I scrambled to my feet, my breath coming in short, jagged bursts.
I couldn't stay here. I couldn't look at the floor where I'd just been humiliated, or the door Stephen had just vanished through.
I rushed out of the room, my heart hammering against my ribs.
As I passed the guards standing like stone statues at the end of the corridor, I kept my eyes fixed forward.
I couldn't ask them anything. If Stephen had walked into the Duke's private chambers unnoticed, then the very men meant to protect this wing were likely the ones who had opened the door for him.
I moved silently through the winding stone passages, my mind a whirlwind. I have to do something. I have to think.
I spotted Belle, a young maid with a kind face, hurrying toward the laundry. I caught her arm, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Where is the Duke? Where is Draven?"
Belle looked at me with wide, startled eyes.
"The Duke, my Lady? He departed at dawn for the border regions. He is expected to be gone for three days."
I froze. Three days? He hadn't said a word. I didn't expect him to—to him, I was a prisoner, a "shield" to be cast to the floor—but the realization that he was gone left me feeling strangely hollow.
And vulnerable.
I turned and walked toward Draven's study, driven by a desperate need to find a map or a schedule—anything that told me where he had gone.
But as I pushed the heavy oak doors open, the air left my lungs.
Stephen was there.
He wasn't just in the room; he was sitting in Draven's high-backed leather chair, leaning back with his boots resting near the edge of the mahogany desk.
He looked like a master surveying his new kingdom.
I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms. "Why are you sitting in his chair, Stephen?"
Stephen chuckled, the sound grating against my nerves. "Is it a crime to sit in the seat of my 'King-to-be'? Or to spend my morning staring at my beautiful bride-to-be?"
"Draven will be back in three days," I snapped, my voice trembling with suppressed rage.
"And when he returns, you won't possess that chair for a second longer."
Stephen's smile widened, turning into something dark and jagged. He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming. "That is... if the Duke returns, Seraphina."
My heart didn't just skip a beat; it felt like it shattered in my chest.
Ding.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: HIDDEN PLOT DETECTED — THE BORDER DISPATCH]
I stared at him, my blood turning to ice. "What do you mean by that?"
Stephen stayed silent, watching me with a smug, knowing expression.
My instinct was to scream at him, to demand the truth, but I forced myself to stop.
If I acted out of anger, he would shut down. He would hide the details.
If I wanted to save Draven—and save my own fate from the executioner's block—I had to play the only card I had left.
I took a deep breath, forcing my features to soften.
I let out a long, theatrical sigh and moved toward the door, turning the heavy iron key in the lock with a soft click.
I walked back toward him, my movements slow and deliberate.
I leaned over the desk, closing the distance between us until I could see the reflection of my own false smile in his eyes.
"You know," I whispered, my voice dropping into a conspiratorial purr,
"I was actually excited when I heard he would be away for three days."
I sighed again, touching my neck where Draven had held me the night before. "But I'm worried.
When he returns... my suffering simply begins again. I don't know if I can bear another night like the last."
Stephen stared at me for several long minutes, his gaze searching. He knew the old Seraphina—the one who was lazy, bored, and selfish.
He was looking for her now, and I gave her to him.
Finally, he snapped his fingers, a triumphant look crossing his face.
"Well, then, good news, my Duchess," he murmured, reaching out to snag a lock of my hair.
"He won't be returning home anyway. Draven will meet his death on those borders, and you... you will be finally, truly free."
Ding.
[HIDDEN PLOT ACCEPTED: THE ASSASSINATION AT THE BORDER]
[OBJECTIVE UPDATED: PREVENT THE DUKE'S DEMISE WITHIN 72 HOURS]
The system's red glow was the only thing I could see through the veil of my terror. The hunt had begun.
I maintained a thin, brittle smile even as my mind raced to dismantle Stephen's vague plan.
I couldn't ask for the route—that would be a death sentence.
He would instantly know I intended to warn Draven. Instead, I simply nodded, my eyes downcast.
"Finally," I whispered, playing the part of the relieved victim. "I'll be free."
I retreated from the study, the weight of the signature on my wrist feeling like a lead shackle.
***
Once back in my chambers, I moved with frantic efficiency. I had to look like a Duchess, not a woman who had just slept on a stone floor.
I bathed and dressed in fine, stiff silks, my movements precise.
I needed an ally, and Draven's sister, Lady Elara, was the only one who might listen.
When I reached the passage to the women's quarters, the guards barred my way. "The Duke's orders, My Lady. No entry."
I didn't argue. I simply slid a heavy purse of gold into the lead guard's hand, my eyes hard. "He isn't here, is he? And I am still your Duchess."
The weight of the gold won.
Inside, Elara was finishing her morning toilette.
She turned, startled, and I began to apologize, but she cut me off with a gentle hand on my shoulder.
"It's alright, Seraphina."
I sat her down, my face grave. "I've had another... insight," I said, leaning in.
I reminded her of the poisoned medicine I'd saved her from —the only reason she trusted me at all.
"I have a feeling Draven is in grave danger. He won't just be delayed; he will be captured. Or worse."
I had pieced it together: if Stephen was this confident, he wasn't just relying on luck. He had the Captain of the Knights.
Draven was walking into a trap where even his legendary strength couldn't save him from two hundred men and a betrayal from within.
"He has to come home tonight, Elara. Before tomorrow. If he stays out there, he's a dead man."
Elara paused, then a mischievous light sparked in her eyes.
She let out a soft laugh and reached out to pinch my cheek. "Oh, Seraphina! You're just missing my brother, aren't you?"
She winked, leaning in close. "The whole palace is whispering.
They say you spent the night in his room, and I heard he even told the guards to watch over you specifically.
You're worried because you've finally fallen for him!"
My heart sank. She thought this was a romantic whim. I forced a faint, bashful smile to keep the peace, but my eyes remained cold.
"Elara, I assure you, my heart isn't the one in danger right now—his life is."
[SYSTEM ALERT: ALLY PERSUASION AT 40%]
[WARNING: LADY ELARA REQUIRES CONCRETE PROOF TO ACT]
Elara's smile faded, replaced by a look of painful recollection. She stood up abruptly, smoothing the skirts of her gown.
"Seraphina, I want to believe you, I truly do," she said, her voice turning formal and distant.
"But I cannot act on a 'feeling' alone. I have to take this to Mother and the Council".
Elara sighed, her eyes full of a conflicted pity. "Seraphina, listen to me. Last time, the Council eventually accepted your reasons for what you did—they saw the logic after the dust settled.
But right now? If I bring them a 'feeling' about the border while my brother is away, they won't listen. They will see you as a distraction at best, and an enemy trying to sow chaos at worst."
She reached out, squeezing my hand one last time. "You've gained a tiny bit of ground. Don't throw it away on paranoia. Go and rest."
I managed a weak nod, playing the part of the exhausted, defeated wife until the doors closed behind me.
The moment I was alone in the corridor, the fatigue vanished.
Elara was right—the Council would never believe me again. They will be waiting for a reason to lock me back in that dungeon.
But her words confirmed my worst fear: if the political route was closed, I was the only person on this entire estate who knew the Duke was riding into a slaughter.
[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION: ISOLATION PROTOCOL ACTIVE]
[OBJECTIVE: SAVE THE DUKE WITHOUT OFFICIAL BACKING]
I walked away from Elara's chambers, my head bowed as if in defeat.
Every servant I passed likely saw a Duchess finally breaking under the weight of her husband's coldness, but behind my eyes, the gears were screaming.
The Council wouldn't help. Elara thought I was delusional or lovesick. And Draven... Draven was riding toward a cliff with the man holding the map planning to push him off.
I reached my room and slammed the heavy oak door, leaning my back against it as the silence of the chamber rushed in to meet me.
I needed to think. I paced the length of the rug, my charcoal silk skirts hissing against the floor.
Think, Melanie. Use the knowledge you have.
The System had warned of Multiple Alliances. If the Captain of the Knights was involved, then the "official" reports coming back from the border would be faked.
If I stayed here, I would be waiting for a letter that would never arrive, or worse, an announcement of his "accidental" death.
I looked at my desk, then at the window overlooking the stable gates.
I was trapped in a palace full of enemies, with a signature on a man's arm that could hang me, and a husband who didn't trust me enough to even say goodbye.
***
[TIME REMAINING: 67 HOURS]
The red text of the System pulsed, a digital heartbeat of anxiety. I couldn't go to the border on foot, and I couldn't leave through the front gates.
I had to find a way to get a message to Draven that he couldn't ignore—something only the "Villainess" would know to send.