When Seraphina Evercrest awoke, sunlight streamed through the windows, bathing the room in a golden glow.
She blinked groggily, her head aching slightly as she stirred beneath the thick fur coat draped over her.
It was warm and luxurious, but it didn't belong to her.
Panic flickered in her chest as she sat up, wincing at the dull ache in her body.
Where was Lysander?
Her gaze darted around the room, searching for answers.
"Are you awake?" a cold voice asked from across the room.
She turned abruptly, her heart skipping a beat as she met Lysander Celestis's piercing gaze.
He stood near the door, dressed impeccably in dark robes, his posture straight and unyielding.
His eyes, however, were unreadable, a mix of frost and fire that unsettled her.
"Lysander…" she began, her voice trembling.
"You don't have to rise so early today," he interrupted, his tone clipped and devoid of warmth. "But you will accompany me to the palace later. Prepare yourself."
He turned sharply and strode out of the room before she could respond.
His words were curt, but what unsettled her more was his lack of curiosity.
He didn't ask where she had been last night.
He didn't question the coat she wore, clearly too large to be hers.
Did he not care?
Or did he already know?
Seraphina hugged the coat tightly, confusion and unease swirling in her chest. She wanted answers, but none came.
Finally, she pushed herself out of bed, her movements stiff and slow.
With no maid to assist her, she managed to wash and dress on her own, though it took longer than she would have liked.
By the time she emerged from her room, the sun hung high in the sky.
Lysander was waiting at the mansion's gate, his expression as cold as ever. Without a word, he extended his hand to her.
"Let's go," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion.
Seraphina hesitated, but she knew there was no point in resisting.
The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
The maids and attendants stood like statues, their heads bowed low, not daring to make a sound.
Seraphina Evercrest hesitated, her wide eyes fixed on the pale, slender hand extended toward her by Lysander.
He was dressed in imperial robes, their intricate gold embroidery glinting in the faint sunlight.
His sharp features were striking—his sword-like brows, piercing dark eyes, and a tall, slender frame that seemed to radiate power.
There was an icy, suffocating aura about him, like the edge of a blade pressing against her skin.
Just looking at him made her heart race with fear.
She couldn't stop herself from trembling when she thought of last night.
His cruelty had been overwhelming, and now, even his presence felt like a threat.
Lysander's gaze shifted slightly, his dark eyes narrowing as they took in her hesitation.
Seraphina had changed out of her red wedding dress and now wore a soft lavender palace gown embroidered with silver blossoms.
She stood tall, her elegant figure graceful yet commanding attention without effort.
Her hair was styled simply, a moon-shaped bun pinned with a delicate red ornament.
The small orchid design between her brows highlighted the refined beauty of her face, making her look almost ethereal.
For a moment, Lysander studied her silently, his expression unreadable.
This kind of beauty, he thought coldly, could make any man want to protect her.
No wonder she had been escorted back by the Shadowed Veil Division last night. And not just escorted, but fiercely guarded, as if she were a treasure.
He felt an unsettling flicker of suspicion.
Did Seraphina have some hidden connection to the Shadowed Veil Division?
Otherwise, why would they, known for their ruthless efficiency, go out of their way to ensure her safety?
And why would the infamous leader of the Shadowed Veil Division, the coldest and most dangerous man in Caeslencrest Vale, show her even a shred of mercy?
Lysander's lips curled slightly, though the gesture carried no warmth.
He stepped closer and seized her hand.
His grip was strong, his calloused fingers pressing into her soft palm.
"It's late," he said coldly, his tone sharp. "What are you waiting for, my beloved wife?"
Seraphina winced at the roughness of his touch, but when she glanced at his icy profile, she swallowed her protests.
She didn't want to provoke him—not now, not here. Gritting her teeth, she allowed him to pull her toward the carriage waiting outside.
The ride to the palace was silent, the tension between them palpable. Seraphina kept her eyes on her lap, her thoughts swirling like a storm.
....
When they arrived at the palace, the grand halls were bustling with activity.
Courtiers and officials moved about, their voices hushed as they caught sight of the newlyweds.
Seraphina followed Lysander closely, her steps careful and measured.
They first met with the emperor.
He was seated on his throne, his expression weary but authoritative. His sharp eyes swept over them briefly before he waved a hand.
"Receive the imperial edict," the emperor said, his voice low but commanding.
Seraphina knelt beside Lysander as the proclamation was read.
Rewards were given, and formalities observed, but the emperor's attention soon turned to other matters. It was clear his focus lay elsewhere.
Afterward, Lysander led Seraphina to the empress's palace.
The empress, Freya Stormborn, was renowned throughout Caeslencrest Vale—not only for her beauty but for her intelligence and influence.
Though it was said the harem should not meddle in politics, everyone knew Queen Freya Stormborn was the true power behind the throne.
Seraphina knelt in the grand hall of the empress's chambers, her heart beating rapidly.
She accepted the ceremonial tea from a female official, her hands trembling slightly.
"Raise your head," came a melodic voice from above. It was soft yet commanding, a tone that demanded attention without effort. "Let me see the famous beauty of Caeslencrest Vale."
Seraphina lifted her head slowly, her breath catching as her eyes fell upon the empress.
Freya Stormborn was breathtaking.
Despite being in her thirties, she looked as if time had scarcely touched her.
Her complexion was flawless, her features perfectly balanced, and her phoenix-shaped eyes gleamed with intelligence.
She wore a bright yellow phoenix gown adorned with intricate embroidery, and a glittering phoenix hairpin crowned her jet-black hair.
The empress smiled, but there was something unsettling about it.
The curve of her lips seemed warm, yet her sharp eyes told a different story.
They pierced through Seraphina, as if searching for secrets hidden beneath the surface.
Seraphina felt a chill run down her spine. She quickly lowered her head again, though her thoughts raced.
So this is Freya Stormborn… the most powerful woman in Caeslencrest Vale.
"Beautiful," the empress remarked, her voice light but calculated. "Truly, your reputation does not exaggerate. Such a face could make nations fall."
Seraphina clenched her fists in her lap, her nails digging into her palms.
The empress's words felt like a test—a game she didn't yet understand.