Seraphina stood in the garden, the cold winter wind biting at her skin. She had wrapped her shawl tightly around herself, but the chill seemed to seep into her very bones. The snow fell silently, dusting the hedges and bare branches in a thin layer of white.
The memory of Alastair and Vivienne burned behind her closed eyes, yet she pushed it aside. There was no point dwelling on it; she had already made her choices. The marriage, the alliance—it had all been a necessity. She had learned long ago that emotions had no place in this life.
Her breath formed small clouds in the freezing air as she walked deeper into the garden, her footsteps crunching softly on the snow-covered path. Here, beneath the ancient oak trees, she could almost forget her burdens, almost feel a sliver of peace.
But peace was fleeting, especially for her.
The faint sound of a footstep behind her brought her back to the present. She turned her head slightly, her hand instinctively brushing the dagger hidden beneath her cloak.
"Couldn't sleep?"
The familiar voice was low and deep, laced with a calm intensity that made her spine stiffen. She didn't have to turn to know it was Kael.
"Did you follow me?" she asked, her voice cold, her gaze fixed on the snow-dusted branches ahead.
"You always wander the garden when you're restless." His tone was unreadable, and when she finally turned to face him, his dark eyes were fixed on her, steady and piercing.
Kael stood a few paces away, his silver hair catching the faint moonlight, his cloak lined with fur to ward off the cold. He looked like a phantom from her past, a ghost that refused to be exorcised.
"Restless?" she echoed, her lips curling into a bitter smile. "What makes you think I'm restless?"
He took a step closer, his boots crunching on the snow. "You were screaming again."
Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she felt exposed, vulnerable. But she quickly masked it, her expression hardening. "It's none of your concern."
"It is," he said firmly. "It always has been."
Seraphina's grip tightened on her shawl. She hated the way his presence stirred something in her, something dangerous and unwelcome. Kael was a reminder of everything she wanted to forget—the blood, the pain, the choices that had shaped her into the woman she was now.
"You shouldn't be here," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the stillness.
"And yet, here I am," he replied, his tone calm but unyielding. "You can push everyone else away, Seraphina, but you know I won't leave."
Her eyes narrowed. "Why do you insist on clinging to the past?"
Kael's jaw tightened, and for a moment, his calm façade cracked, revealing the fire that simmered beneath. "Because I can't forget it, no matter how hard I try."
She turned away, her gaze returning to the falling snow. "Then you're a fool," she said quietly. "The past is a chain, Kael. If you don't break it, it will drag you down until there's nothing left."
"And what about you?" he asked, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. "Have you broken your chains, Seraphina? Or are you still bound by them, just like me?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, that she had moved on, that the scars of her past no longer defined her. But the truth was, she didn't know.
"I'm tired of these games," she said finally, her voice cold and distant. "If you've come to lecture me, save your breath."
Kael studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes searching hers. "You can lie to yourself, but you can't lie to me," he said softly. "I'll be watching, Seraphina. When you're ready to face the truth, you'll know where to find me."
Without another word, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the garden.
Seraphina stood there for a long time, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as the snow continued to fall. Her thoughts churned, tangled and chaotic, but one thing was clear—Kael's presence was a storm she wasn't ready to face.
As the wind howled through the trees, she whispered to herself, "I have no time for ghosts."
But deep down, she knew the ghosts weren't going anywhere. They were a part of her, woven into the very fabric of her existence. And no matter how far she ran, they would always find her.
*****
Seraphina sat at the head of the long dining table, her fingers idly tracing the rim of a porcelain teacup. She barely heard the faint clinking of dishes as servants cleared the remnants of breakfast. The air in the grand dining hall was heavy with tension, the silence sharp enough to cut.
Vivienne, draped in a deep crimson gown that clung to her frame like a second skin, broke the stillness. Her voice was sweet, laced with false innocence, but her words carried an edge.
"My Lord," she began, her fingers brushing lightly over Alastair's arm, "it seems my allowance has been a little… insufficient lately. I'm sure Lady Seraphina wouldn't mind increasing it." She cast a sly, sidelong glance at Seraphina, her lips curving into a smirk.
Seraphina, poised and unreadable, continued to stir her tea. "I believe your current budget is more than generous," she said coolly, her gaze never lifting from the swirling liquid. "Considering the household's expenses, any increase would be unnecessary."
Vivienne's smile faltered for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered, her voice turning sweetly cajoling. "But surely, as the lady of the house, you would want me to have everything I need to maintain appearances. It reflects on the family, after all."
Alastair, seated at the opposite end of the table, set his cup down with a deliberate clink. His gaze flicked between the two women before settling on Seraphina, his eyes cold and unyielding.
"Seraphina," he said, his tone low and sharp. "Increase her allowance. It's not up for debate."
Seraphina's hand stilled her teacup poised mid-air. Slowly, she set it down, her movements deliberate and composed. When she finally looked up, her eyes met Alastair's with a steady, unyielding gaze.
"Even I don't require such a sum for my expenses," she replied calmly. "If you believe Vivienne's needs outweigh those of the household, perhaps she should learn the value of restraint."
The tension thickened, and for a moment, no one spoke. Vivienne's eyes gleamed with a mixture of triumph and annoyance as she leaned closer to Alastair, her hand resting on his. "My Lord, I only—"
Alastair's fist slammed onto the table, silencing her. Without a word, he reached into the stack of documents beside him, pulled out a sheaf of papers, and hurled them across the table. The heavy folder struck Seraphina's temple before landing on the polished wood with a dull thud.
Her head tilted slightly from the impact, but her expression didn't falter. She reached up, brushing her fingertips against her temple, and then calmly turned her gaze back to Alastair.
"Your position," Alastair said coldly, his voice like ice, "exists because you're useful. Don't mistake it for something more. You are not here because you're a woman anyone likes."
Vivienne's lips curved into a foxlike smile as she watched the exchange, her fingers playing with the loose fabric of her sleeve.
Seraphina's heart burned with rage, but her face remained a mask of composure. Slowly, she gathered the scattered documents and placed them neatly on the table in front of her.
"I understand, my Lord," she said, her voice steady and devoid of emotion. "But as the one responsible for this household, I will not compromise its stability for frivolities."
Her words hung in the air like a blade. Alastair's jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his silence more damning than any words could be.
Vivienne, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, leaned closer to Alastair, her voice a soft purr. "My Lord, perhaps we should revisit this later. I'm sure Lady Seraphina simply needs time to reconsider."
Seraphina rose from her seat, her movements graceful. She looked down at Vivienne, her gaze as cold as the winter frost outside.
"There's nothing to reconsider," she said firmly. "If you require more funds, perhaps you should find another benefactor."
With that, she turned and walked out of the dining hall, her steps echoing in the silence.
The moment she disappeared, Vivienne's smile turned brittle, and Alastair's fist clenched on the table.
"She'll come around," Vivienne murmured, her voice silky but with an edge of irritation.
Alastair didn't respond. His eyes remained fixed on the door Seraphina had exited, his expression unreadable.
Outside the hall, Seraphina's calm façade finally cracked as she pressed a hand to her throbbing temple.