The sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the study as Alastair hurled his teacup against the wall. He stood towering over Seraphina, his face contorted with rage. "Are you out of your mind, Seraphina? Tax the nobles? Do you want to bring ruin upon this house?"
Seraphina remained seated, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her calm demeanor a contrast to his outburst. "One more push and the citizens will revolt. You saw the reports. They're on the verge of rebellion, Alastair."
"They're commoners!" he snapped, slamming his fist against the table. "They don't matter. Nobles and commoners are worlds apart—if you can't understand that, it's because of your tainted blood. You'll never be more than a half-breed noble, and now you're trying to destroy the very foundation of what little standing you have!"
His words cut deep, but Seraphina refused to flinch. "Noble or commoner, they bleed the same," she replied steadily. "And if we bleed them dry, the entire duchy will crumble. Do you want to be remembered as the Duke who lost everything because he refused to adapt?"
Alastair scoffed, pacing furiously. "You think you can lecture me? You, whose only worth is the name you carry? Don't forget your place, Seraphina."
Seraphina rose to her feet, her voice firm yet measured. "I haven't forgotten my place, Alastair. It's you who forgets yours. As Duke, you must protect your land and your people, not cling to outdated notions of superiority."
The room fell silent for a moment, tension thick in the air. Alastair's lips curled into a sneer. "And what do you suggest? That I stand before the court and humiliate myself by begging the nobles to open their coffers? They'll laugh me out of the room."
"They'll listen if you approach them strategically," Seraphina countered. "Frame it as a temporary measure, a necessary sacrifice for the stability of the realm. If we present a united front—"
"Enough!" he bellowed, slamming his fist on the table once more. "I won't have my authority questioned by a woman who can't even secure her position as Duchess properly."
Seraphina's hands tightened into fists at her sides. She had been prepared for his resistance, but his arrogance still grated on her. "If your pride is all that matters to you," she said coolly, "then I have no choice but to offer you something more tangible."
Alastair narrowed his eyes. "And what could you possibly offer me that I don't already have?"
Seraphina's heart clenched, but she forced herself to speak. "I'll agree to make your mistress an official concubine. I'll sign the temple's approval and sanction your marriage to her."
Alastair froze, his anger momentarily replaced by astonishment. "You'd… allow it?"
"I will," Seraphina said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within. "On one condition—you must stand by me in court and convince the nobles to support the tax increase. Help me stabilize this duchy, and I'll give you what you want."
A slow, calculating smile spread across Alastair's face. "And you'll put that in writing?"
"I will," she replied, her resolve unwavering.
Alastair wasted no time in drafting a contract, the ink barely dry as he slid it across the table to her. "Sign it," he said, his voice dripping with triumph.
Seraphina hesitated for a brief moment, the weight of her decision pressing heavily on her chest. But she had made her choice. Taking the quill in hand, she signed her name with a flourish, sealing the deal that would strip her of whatever semblance of dignity she had left in her marriage.
Satisfied, Alastair leaned back in his chair, his confidence restored. "You're finally learning your place, Seraphina."
Without a word, she turned on her heel and left the room, her steps steady but her heart heavy. She had won the battle for the duchy's survival, but at a cost that left her feeling more like a pawn than ever before.
As the door closed behind her, Seraphina allowed herself a single deep breath.
*****
The air in the council chamber was thick with tension as the elders bickered amongst themselves. Seraphina sat at the head of the table, her posture regal, yet her heart felt heavy with the weight of the decisions ahead.
"The vassals grow bolder by the day," one elder grumbled, his voice grating as he spoke. "They avoid paying taxes, hide their wealth with merchants, and flaunt their defiance of the Duke's authority. If we can't track their dealings, the duchy will fall into chaos."
Another elder slammed his hand down on the table in frustration. "The merchants must be controlled. The nobles must know their place. If they aren't stopped, we risk losing everything."
Seraphina listened quietly, her mind swirling with thoughts of how to handle the situation. The men's proposals were full of anger but lacked the clarity needed for real action. It was all talk.
Finally, when the room fell quiet, Seraphina spoke, her voice soft but firm, though a hint of reluctance seeped through. "We don't need to worry about the merchants."
The room stilled, and all eyes turned to her, skeptical and confused.
One elder raised a brow, his voice tinged with disbelief. "What do you mean, Duchess? We've been trying to uncover their hidden wealth for months, and they're slipping through our fingers. You think you can do it where we've failed?"
Seraphina sighed inwardly. She wasn't sure she could do it. She wasn't sure she wanted to do it. But there was no other choice. The duchy's survival depended on it.
"I can," she said slowly, the words leaving her mouth like a weight she didn't want to carry. "I'll find their secrets."
The elders exchanged glances, confusion, and doubt in their eyes.
"But Your Grace, this isn't a matter of simply finding hidden wealth," one elder protested. "This will require spies, informants, and… well, methods that are not so easily undertaken."
Seraphina's gaze fell to the table, and she took a steadying breath, her fingers trembling slightly as she traced the grain of the wood. She could hear the echoes of her past in the elder's words—echoes of a time she had hoped to forget. Espionage, assassination, betrayal—these were the tools she had once mastered.
She had sworn never to return to those dark days. Yet, as she looked up at the elders, their doubt and impatience stinging her pride, she knew she was left with little choice. She couldn't afford to back down now.
"I have informants," she said, her voice quieter, tinged with a reluctance she couldn't hide. "People who can help me uncover what they're hiding."
The elders eyed her cautiously, their skepticism growing. "Informants? Where do you intend to find such people? And how do we know you can trust them?"
Seraphina smiled bitterly, her past lingering in the shadows of her thoughts. The trust had never been a luxury she could afford. But she had learned long ago that information was power—whether gained through whispers in the dark or blood on her hands.
"I know where to look," she replied, her tone colder than she felt. "And I have the means to get what we need."
The elders didn't seem entirely convinced, but they didn't press her further. "Very well, Duchess," one said reluctantly. "If you're certain this is the best course of action, we'll leave it in your hands."
Seraphina nodded, though the decision weighed heavily on her. She couldn't forget the girl she used to be—the girl who had once lived by lies and shadows, who had made herself an instrument of death.
As the meeting dispersed, Seraphina lingered behind, her thoughts clouded with doubt. The last thing she wanted to do was return to that dark path. But the duchy was crumbling. Alastair had become more distant, consumed by his ambitions, and she was left to pick up the pieces.
She walked to the window, staring out at the moonlit courtyard below, her heart heavy with the weight of what was to come. The faint sound of laughter reached her ears—the sound of Alastair and his mistress, their open affection a reminder of the life she had never asked for.
With a sigh, Seraphina turned away from the window and walked toward the door, her steps hesitant. She knew what she had to do, but it didn't make it any easier.
"I'll need to prepare," she murmured to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll do this… but I won't like it."
She wasn't sure if she was speaking to the elders, to herself, or to the ghosts of her past.
But there was no turning back now. The shadows were calling once again.