Seraphina shut the door and leaned against it, letting out the breath she'd held the entire time.

Gods, that had been close.

The burn beneath her sleeve pulsed like a second heartbeat, hot, wrong, alive. If Evelyne had seen it, if she'd guessed... gods, she'd never have walked out smiling.

But Evelyne had tried to charm her. The Soulfire Confluence had changed something fundamental, Seraphina could feel any magic cast on her now in ways she never could before. The charm slid against her skin like oil, alien and intrusive. So this was Evelyne's real ability, not the harmless "emotion management" she claimed in public, but actual mental manipulation. She let her posture slacken just enough to sell the charm's effect. Let Evelyne see what she wanted to see.

She hadn't just been touched, Evelyne had infiltrated her. Coiled a spell around her like a leash and waited to see if she'd obey.

The whole encounter replayed in her mind.

"A gardening accident with alchemical compounds," she'd said with an embarrassed laugh when Evelyne asked about her arm. "You know how I am."

And Evelyne, as always, heard exactly what she wanted. But then came the part Seraphina hadn't expected.

Evelyne stepped closer. Too close. She squeezed the burn. Pain lanced up her arm, but worse was the second strike: magic coiling tight, whispering small, worthless, nothing. She kept her breathing even, relaxing her shoulders just enough to sell the illusion. Let Evelyne see a girl too weak to resist.

For a second, she imagined grabbing Evelyne's hand and twisting until bones snapped. Just to see the mask break.

Inside, she catalogued everything. The pressure Evelyne applied, just enough to hurt, not enough to leave marks. The timing of the charm, right when pain spiked to mask the magical intrusion. The smug satisfaction in her cousin's eyes.

Next time, she'd return the favor.

Seraphina bit down on her cheek until she tasted blood, acting the part of the intimidated cousin while keeping her voice steady. "I was heading to the washroom when you knocked. Just give me a minute."

Evelyne stepped back, satisfied that her dual assault, physical and magical, had done its work.

She was wrong.

Her arm still pulsed, nerves frayed, but she waited until the door fully latched before dropping the mask. Only then did she allow her shoulders to sag, her careful breathing to hitch. The performance had cost her, every muscle tense, every word calculated to appear helpless while cataloging Evelyne's weaknesses.

Her steps were slow, deliberate. Not retreating, resetting. The Soulfire didn't flare. It coiled around her pulse, hot, aware, hers. It responded not to command, but to need. She wrapped it around a healing spell, careful, controlled. The Soulfire obeyed.

Her fingers trembled once, barely. She clenched her fist until it passed.

When she returned to the main chamber, Evelyne was examining her books like a predator marking territory.

"What a night," Evelyne said without looking up, fingers lingering on a leather-bound tome. Her voice was casual. Too casual. "Did the commotion wake you? Someone broke into the archives. Can you imagine the audacity?"

She picked up one of the older books, tracing its singed corner. "This one's in High Arcanic. Didn't think you read that sort of thing."

Seraphina's pulse quickened, but she kept her voice sleepy and confused. "I heard shouting around dawn. Couldn't get back to sleep after that."

"The guards are still searching." Evelyne's fingers traced the burn marks on a book spine with deliberate precision. "Though whoever it was left quite a mess. You've always had a fondness for dangerous things." Her tone suggested it was a charming flaw, harmless, really.

Seraphina gave an embarrassed laugh, playing her part perfectly. "I can barely manage a spark, no matter what I try. That's probably why I keep burning my books instead of lighting candles properly."

Evelyne's eyes lit with satisfaction, her posture softening just enough to reveal belief.

Useful to know.

Evelyne's smile turned smugly sympathetic. "Oh, darling. Perhaps you shouldn't push yourself so hard. You'll only end up hurting yourself." Her tone dripped with false concern. "Some girls just aren't built for that kind of magic." The words came out sharper than intended, with genuine contempt bleeding through.

She caught herself, smile brightening. "But I'm sure you do your best, dear."

The venom had slipped, but enough. Evelyne was enjoying this too much to hide it.

"You're probably right," Seraphina said meekly, hating every word.

Part of her wanted to slap that smile off Evelyne's face. Another part wanted to wait, until she could watch her cousin choke on her own pride.

"Speaking of which, there's a small garden gathering today. Just a few close friends." Evelyne moved toward the door with practiced grace. "Two o'clock in the rose garden."

Her stomach twisted. Just like that day, whispers, spilled wine, and Cordelia's laughter sinking deeper than the blade of the insult.

"As Duchess of Vessant, your presence is expected," Evelyne continued, voice sweet as poisoned honey. "It wouldn't do to be absent from such visible affairs."

The message was clear: attend and be humiliated, or skip and be painted as ungrateful and antisocial.

"Of course," Seraphina said. "I'll be there."

"Wonderful." Evelyne paused at the door, savoring the moment. "Oh, and do dress beautifully today, darling. The roses deserve a proper duchess, especially with a journalist taking notes."

Sheathed in silk. Laced with poison.

"I understand," Seraphina said.

Evelyne's smile sharpened into something predatory. "I knew you would."

Then she was gone, leaving only expensive perfume and the promise of blood in the water.

Seraphina stood alone. Two hours until the gathering. Two hours to prepare for whatever trap Evelyne had waiting.

She could already picture it, the careful staging, the intimate circle designed to exclude as much as include. Evelyne would have chosen the guests with surgical precision. People hungry for gossip, quick to judge, eager to watch the new duchess stumble. And Cordelia would be the centerpiece, armed with stories and intimate details designed to cut deep.

Evelyne missed everything, because she'd never once imagined she could lose.

Her overconfidence would be her downfall.

But first, Seraphina had to survive the afternoon.

The garden wasn't for tea. It was for blood. Probably with Cordelia leading the charge, armed with fresh ammunition about Alaric's preferences and Seraphina's inadequacies.

But Evelyne had made one mistake.

She'd told Seraphina exactly what to wear. "Dress beautifully. Look every inch the duchess you are."

A slow smile spread across Seraphina's face as she moved toward her wardrobe. She'd follow that advice to the letter.

The mirror caught her reflection, pale from magical exhaustion, but her eyes burned with something new. Something dangerous. The frightened girl who'd married into this family would never have considered what she was planning. That girl had believed in fairness, in earned respect, in the power of quiet dignity.

This woman knew better.

The burn had stopped throbbing. Only the warmth remained, quiet, hungry. Like a secret she hadn't decided whether to share or unleash.

Let them see the duchess. Applaud the silk. Sip their tea and pretend I'm tamed.

And when the roses bleed, let them wonder why.