Chapter 16
Seraphina shot upright, her breath uneven as she watched Rhydian disappear into the bathroom. His words echoed in her mind.
He's going to sleep on the floor?
Her hands clenched the sheets, confusion swirling in her thoughts. Why had he pulled away just now? Had he sensed her bloodlust?
A part of her was relieved. She had expected him to take what was rightfully his tonight—had braced herself for it. But his actions were unpredictable. She couldn't read his thoughts, couldn't decipher his expressions the way she could with others. Yet one thing was clear—he was angry.
Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession as she forced herself to calm down. Without wasting another moment, she slipped out of bed and grabbed something less revealing, hastily changing into a more modest nightdress. The sheer gown from earlier had left her feeling exposed, and now that she was covered properly, she felt more at ease.
Lying back down, she closed her eyes, hoping sleep would come quickly. But the sound of running water from the bathroom kept her thoughts restless. She couldn't shake the feeling that something about tonight had shifted.
Minutes passed. The door creaked open.
She heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching, the scent of fresh soap mingling with something undeniably masculine filling the air. Curiosity got the best of her, and she turned her head slightly to steal a glance—only to immediately regret it.
Her breath hitched.
Water dripped from his damp hair, his robe slightly parted, revealing a sculpted chest and well-defined abs. Moonlight glowed against his skin, emphasizing every ridge, every taut muscle. He looked utterly divine—like a deity carved from stone, powerful and untamed.
Seraphina swallowed hard.
Why did everything about him have to be so—tempting?
She knew she should look away. Look away, Seraphina! But her gaze lingered far too long, drawn to the strength in his arms, the broadness of his shoulders. Her fingers twitched with an unfamiliar urge—to touch, to feel.
A wave of heat rushed to her face.
His movements slowed, as if he had sensed her staring. His piercing silver eyes locked onto hers, amusement flickering within their depths.
Panic surged through her veins. She jerked her head back, squeezed her eyes shut, and pretended to sleep.
The room fell into silence.
Then—footsteps.
He's coming closer.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.
She kept her breathing steady, willing herself to stay still, but the warmth of his presence neared, enveloping her senses. And then—his breath ghosted over her face.
Her eyes fluttered open instantly.
His face was mere inches from hers, a smirk curving his lips.
"No need to pretend," he murmured, voice deep and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine. "I know you're awake."
Seraphina parted her lips, struggling for words, but nothing came out.
His silver eyes held her captive, flickering with something unreadable. Her pulse hammered in her ears.
Then he leaned back slightly, his smirk widening.
"Can I at least have the blanket?"
Seraphina exhaled sharply, her tense body loosening with relief.
He just wanted the blanket.
"Take it," she said quickly, forcing herself to maintain composure.
Rhydian didn't hesitate. He pulled the blanket from her body and strode away, moving to the other side of the room. He laid the blanket on the floor and settled down without another word.
Seraphina watched him for a moment, conflicted. He was a king—yet he willingly chose to sleep on the floor?
A strange pang of guilt surfaced, but she pushed it away. It was his decision, not mine.
Turning on her side, she closed her eyes once more, exhaustion finally settling in.
---
The next morning, Seraphina woke with a restless sigh, staring at the ceiling as a wave of boredom settled over her. Another day trapped inside these palace walls. Another day spent doing nothing. This wasn't the kind of life she wanted. She wasn't meant to sit idly, caged like a helpless bird.
She turned her head, and just as she expected, Rhydian was already gone. A sense of relief washed over her—at least he wasn't here to taunt her first thing in the morning.
With a tired exhale, she pushed herself off the bed and went about her usual morning routine. But even after freshening up and changing into comfortable clothing, the suffocating feeling remained.
She needed to leave.
The walls of this palace weren't enough to hold her back.
Dressing in a simple tunic and pants that allowed easy movement, she pulled her long silver hair into a braid, letting a few loose strands frame her face. A cloak would only draw attention, so she left it behind.
Taking a deep breath, she concentrated—and in a blink, she was gone.
The world shifted around her, and when she reappeared, she found herself standing under the shade of a tree, just a few meters away from the palace.
A smirk tugged at her lips. Perfect.
Irene still hadn't returned, or else Seraphina would have considered taking her along. As much as the woman was annoyingly persistent, she was also the only one Seraphina truly trusted.
With one last glance at the towering palace behind her, she turned and walked toward the city.
Her first stop—the market.
The streets bustled with life, merchants calling out their wares, the scent of spices and freshly baked bread mingling in the air. Seraphina moved swiftly, blending into the crowd. She had walked these streets many times before, but back then, she had come as an assassin. Now, she was a queen.
How ironic.
As she maneuvered through the busy marketplace, her mind focused on who she needed to meet. But before she could take another step—
Something small and fast crashed into her.
Seraphina barely managed to steady herself before she looked down, brows furrowing.
A boy.
He stumbled back, falling to the ground before scrambling to his feet. His small hands clutched a pouch tightly against his chest, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
And then, he looked up at her.
"I'm sorry, please help me," he pleaded, his voice trembling.
Seraphina's eyes narrowed slightly. Before she could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps thundered toward them.
Three bulky men appeared, their expressions twisted with anger.
"Thank you for catching him for us," one of them sneered. "We'll take it from here."
Seraphina's gaze flickered between the boy and the men. The child was still gripping the hem of her tunic, practically hiding behind her. His wide, fearful eyes made something flicker inside her—something inconvenient.
Annoyance.
Frustration.
And a sliver of reluctant concern.
She sighed, stepping slightly to the side. "If you stole something, just return it," she told the boy, her tone flat. "I don't have time for this, little nephew."
But the little brat refused to let go of her dress. His hands trembled, his body half-shielded behind her. The fear in his eyes wasn't just fear of being caught—it was deeper. More desperate.
Seraphina clenched her jaw.
The men took another step forward. "Your nephew?" one of them repeated, skepticism clear in his tone.
"He ran away from home," she lied smoothly, lifting her chin. "And now, I'm taking him back."
The largest of the men scoffed. "He stole from us." His voice held a forced politeness, which only made her more suspicious. "This isn't the first time. If we don't discipline him, he'll never learn."
Seraphina arched a brow.
That was… a reasonable point.
She turned to the boy, folding her arms. "Give me what you stole."
The boy clutched the pouch even tighter, shaking his head.
Seraphina's patience snapped.
Her violet eyes darkened as she glared down at him, her tone sharp.
"Hand it over. Now."