Seraphine had never needed to compete for attention.
When she entered a room, conversations softened. When she walked through corridors, people stepped aside. When she spoke, men twice her age listened as though heaven itself whispered through her lips.
She was a Saint.
Chosen. Blessed. Radiant.
She was used to being the center.
So when laughter echoed through the palace courtyard that did not belong to her—
She noticed.
Aerin was laughing.
Not politely.
Not diplomatically.
Genuinely.
And Kael—Kael was smirking in that infuriating way he only did when he was amused beyond restraint.
And between them—
Lioraen.
Not glowing. Not chosen. Not divine.
But standing there like he belonged.
Seraphine watched from the balcony above, fingers tightening slightly around the railing.
"You still lose on the left side," Kael teased, nudging Lioraen's shoulder.
"I do not," Lioraen replied calmly. "You simply lack discipline."
Aerin chuckled. "He's right, Kael. Your stance collapses under pressure."
"Oh? And yours doesn't?"
"Never."
Lioraen smiled faintly at that—soft, almost private.
And that smile—
That was what Seraphine didn't like.
It wasn't admiration. It wasn't reverence. It wasn't awe.
It was familiarity.
She descended the stairs slowly, letting her white robes catch the light just right. When she stepped into their space, the servants nearby immediately lowered their heads.
Aerin noticed first. "Seraphine."
His voice softened slightly.
Kael straightened.
Lioraen did not move.
She offered a serene smile. "You seem lively."
"We were reminiscing," Aerin explained.
"About what?" she asked lightly.
"Childhood," Kael answered. "Before responsibilities."
Her gaze flicked briefly to Lioraen.
Before responsibilities.
Interesting.
"And Prince Lioraen was part of that?" she asked sweetly.
Kael frowned faintly. "Of course he was."
Aerin added gently, "He always has been."
Something sharp flashed behind her eyes.
But her smile remained perfect.
"How fortunate," she murmured.
They began walking toward the gardens. Naturally—effortlessly—Lioraen fell between Aerin and Kael.
Seraphine slowed half a step behind.
She did not like that.
She quickened slightly and placed herself beside Aerin instead.
"So, Prince Lioraen," she began smoothly, "do you ever find it… difficult?"
He glanced at her. "Difficult?"
"To stand among apostles."
Kael's expression darkened.
Aerin's steps slowed.
But Lioraen answered calmly. "No."
She tilted her head. "Truly? No envy? No longing?"
"Should I?"
She smiled again. "Most would."
"I am not most."
Aerin's lips curved faintly.
Kael smirked.
And Seraphine saw it.
That silent alignment. That shared understanding.
They did not look at her like that.
In the garden pavilion, Lyrielle was playing near the fountain, small sparks of golden light flickering between her fingers. Servants watched in awe.
When she spotted Lioraen, her entire face lit up.
"Lioraen!"
The glow around her intensified instantly.
She ran straight past Aerin. Past Kael. Past Seraphine.
To him.
He knelt automatically as she threw her arms around his neck.
"Did you see? I made the water dance!"
"I saw," he said softly.
Seraphine's jaw tightened almost invisibly.
Even the divine child chose him first.
Kael crouched beside them. "Show me."
Lyrielle grinned and lifted her hands. The fountain water rose in a gentle spiral.
Aerin watched in quiet admiration.
Seraphine stepped forward, placing herself slightly between Lyrielle and Lioraen.
"You must be careful," she said gently, but firmly. "Power should not be displayed so freely."
Lyrielle blinked.
Lioraen's voice remained calm. "She is practicing."
Seraphine glanced at him. "Without supervision?"
"I am supervising."
A pause.
The air shifted.
"You?" she asked softly.
Not loud. Not mocking.
But pointed.
Aerin spoke before Lioraen could respond. "He has trained with us since we were children."
Kael added bluntly, "He's better than half the apostles I've met."
Seraphine's smile faltered for half a second.
Just enough.
She straightened her posture.
"I meant no disrespect," she said smoothly. "Only concern."
Lyrielle moved closer to Lioraen instinctively.
Seraphine noticed that too.
Later that evening, as torches lit the corridors in soft gold, Aerin and Kael walked ahead discussing forest trade routes.
Seraphine slowed her steps deliberately.
Until she walked beside Lioraen alone.
"You care for them deeply," she said.
"Yes."
"And they care for you."
"Yes."
She studied him carefully now.
"You do not shine," she said quietly. "And yet they orbit you."
He met her gaze evenly.
"I don't ask them to."
"That is precisely the problem."
There it was.
Not prophecy. Not divine warning.
Jealousy.
"You dislike my presence," he observed calmly.
Her eyes flashed.
"I dislike imbalance," she corrected.
"You dislike not being the center."
Silence.
For the first time, her expression hardened.
"You stand where you do not belong," she said quietly. "Among chosen vessels."
"And yet," he replied softly, "they choose to stand with me."
That struck.
She turned away first.
From the balcony above, Kael glanced back toward them.
Aerin noticed the tension immediately.
Seraphine lifted her chin and resumed her saintly composure before either could speak.
But something had shifted.
Not in divine fate.
Not in prophecy.
In ego.
And for the first time since their arrival—
Lioraen understood.
The Saint did not fear him.
She resented him.
Because he did not glow.
Because he was not chosen.
And yet—
He did not move aside.