"After drinking this cup of tea, we are a family," Queen Freya Stormborn said with a calm smile, her voice carrying both authority and an edge of coldness.
She looked down at the kneeling Seraphina Evercrest, her painted lips curved in a way that didn't quite reach her sharp, phoenix-like eyes.
"Yes, Your Highness," Seraphina replied softly.
Her voice barely rose above a whisper as she stepped forward, holding the cup of tea with trembling hands.
She presented it respectfully to Queen Freya, who took it without a word.
The female official standing beside the queen watched carefully, waiting for her to sip the tea.
When Queen Freya finally drank, the official stepped forward, presenting a red plate draped in luxurious silk.
The reward glittered beneath the fabric as it was handed to Seraphina.
"Thank you, Mother," Seraphina murmured, lowering her head.
Queen Freya's smile didn't waver as she delicately stroked her vermilion-painted nails.
Her voice was light, almost kind, but every word dripped with a hidden meaning. "After all the twists and turns, it seems fate has brought you here to call me mother. This must be the will of the heavens."
The female officials standing nearby exchanged amused glances, their expressions barely hiding their delight.
The irony in the queen's words was not lost on Seraphina. She felt her throat tighten as she stepped back in silence.
Everyone in the kingdom of Caeslencrest Vale knew the story—how Leander Celestis had knelt in the palace courtyard for hours, begging the emperor to grant him the right to marry Seraphina.
And yet here she was, wed to Lysander Celestis instead.
Lysander, standing tall beside her, seemed completely unfazed.
His expression was as icy as ever, his demeanor unshaken by Queen Freya's subtle mockery.
He inclined his head slightly, his voice steady and smooth. "Mother, I am grateful for your support in granting this union."
Queen Freya's smile deepened, though her gaze remained sharp. "Why thank me? You're not getting any younger, my son. It's only fitting that you marry. How could an elder brother lag behind his younger sibling?"
Seraphina kept her eyes lowered, her mind barely registering the exchange between Lysander and Queen Freya.
Their words drifted past her, cold and distant, until the sound of hurried footsteps caught her attention.
A female official entered the chamber and whispered something urgently into Queen Freya's ear.
The queen's composed expression faltered for a split second, her painted brows drawing together in a frown.
"What nonsense is this?" she snapped, her voice sharp with irritation. "What is he doing here?"
Before anyone could answer, the doors to the chamber opened. A tall figure entered, his steps graceful and deliberate.
Seraphina's breath caught as her eyes lifted, meeting a pair of familiar ones—clouded with sadness.
Leander Celestis.
The room seemed to freeze as Leander stepped forward. His pale face was thinner than she remembered, his once-vibrant eyes dulled with exhaustion.
He stood with the same poise and elegance he was known for, but there was a fragility to him now, as if the weight of his sorrow was etched into his very being.
Lysander's lips curled into a faint sneer, his grip tightening around Seraphina's wrist. His touch was cold, unyielding.
She winced but didn't dare pull away. Without warning, he dragged her forward, forcing her to follow his lead.
"Greetings to His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince," Lysander said, his tone polite but devoid of warmth. He bowed, his movements sharp and practiced. "May the Crown Prince live a thousand years, a thousand thousand years."
Seraphina followed his lead, bowing her head low. But her gaze flickered upward briefly, meeting Leander's.
"No… No…" Leander's voice wavered, and the sight of his pale face meeting Seraphina's misty eyes made him falter.
His shoulders tensed as he forced himself to speak. "I haven't yet congratulated my second brother on his wedding."
Lysander's grip tightened painfully around Seraphina's wrist, pulling her closer.
The piercing pain grounded her, forcing her to lower her gaze. She couldn't look at Leander any longer—it hurt too much.
Leander's lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.
His gaze lingered on Seraphina for a moment longer before he spoke again. "Second Brother and Lady Evercrest truly make a perfect pair. A match made in heaven."
"Thank you, Your Highness," Lysander replied smoothly. He turned to Seraphina, his arm wrapping possessively around her waist. "Phina, why don't you thank His Highness for his kind words?"
Seraphina's breath hitched as Lysander's grip tightened. His hand felt like iron against her waist, holding her in place.
Her voice trembled as she knelt, bowing deeply. "Thank you, Your Highness."
Leander's face grew paler still, his hands twitching as if he wanted to reach out to her.
But before he could move, Lysander stepped in front of her, blocking his view.
"Enough," Lysander said coldly.
At that moment, Queen Freya's voice rang out, her tone deceptively gentle. "Ander, come sit with your mother." She gestured to Leander, her expression soft, but the sharp warning in her eyes was unmistakable.
Leander hesitated, his gaze lingering on Seraphina one last time before he turned away, his movements stiff and reluctant.