The latest palace gossip flowed freely, passed in low voices and sideways glances from one group to the next. Conversations hovered around the Solstice banquet, who was hosting, who had declined invitations, and who was falling out of favor. Talk of trade shifts and a recent scandal in the northern provinces circled the room. Nobles leaned in close, sipping too-sweet tea, eager to be the first to break news no one else had yet heard.
Seraphina entered without fanfare. Her gown was simple, her posture perfect. She looked like any other highborn lady making the rounds before the Solstice season. She smiled politely, nodded where expected, and gave no one a reason to look too closely.
She had learned how to walk into a room without making ripples, how to blend in when needed. Today, that was her goal. Blend in. Observe. Gather.
She found herself standing before a series of fabric displays, rows of velvet, silk, and satin draped like flags from silver rails. Evelyne appeared as if summoned by ritual.
"Cousin," Evelyne said, her tone too sweet to be sincere. Her fingers brushed across a bolt of pale gold silk. "Help me decide. I can never settle on anything without your taste to guide me."
Seraphina didn't hesitate. She lifted the same bolt and held it out.
"Then this one. It suits you."
Evelyne's smile didn't falter, but her eyes narrowed just slightly. "You always know."
"Allow me to gift it," Seraphina said. "A token of family."
Evelyne accepted with false modesty, the silk draped over her arm like a prize.
As they waited for the seamstresses, Alaric entered. His arrival drew attention, as it always did. Courtiers glanced up from their conversations, a few subtly adjusting their postures or softening their voices. He greeted others smoothly, with short nods and murmured pleasantries, but his steps led him directly to them—confident and unhurried, like a man who already owned the floor.
He greeted Evelyne first, his hand finding her elbow in a touch that lasted just a second too long to be proper. It was a small gesture, but unmistakably intimate. Seraphina watched the exchange without expression. She noted the way Evelyne leaned into the touch, the way Alaric brushed something from her shoulder. They didn't speak like cousins. Not anymore.
There had been other moments, too. Ones she had missed or dismissed. The way Evelyne had always known when Alaric would arrive, even when plans changed last-minute. The way she seemed to know where he had been, or what he had eaten the night before. Once, Seraphina remembered, Evelyne had adjusted Alaric's collar in front of the High Chancellor. It had been a small thing, a flick of her fingers, a laugh passed between them. At the time, Seraphina had thought it familial.
Now she saw it differently.
She recalled a banquet the year before, when Alaric had asked Seraphina to retire early, claiming fatigue. She had gone, but not without noting how Evelyne remained. That night, Evelyne had worn red, a shade Seraphina hadn't seen her wear before or since. The same shade Alaric always complimented when Seraphina wore it. Subtle, but deliberate.
Another time, during the Midwinter Festival, Seraphina had arrived late to the lantern ceremony. Alaric and Evelyne had already lit theirs, together. A shared wish. When asked, they said it was for peace in the realm. But the way they smiled at each other had said otherwise.
"Ladies," Alaric said with a practiced smile. "You brighten the room."
"Alaric," Seraphina replied. Her smile was perfect. "Always the charmer."
They talked about the usual topics, dresses, seating charts, and the upcoming Solstice gathering. Evelyne asked Alaric if he would sit near the High Chancellor or join the western court delegation this year. He laughed and teased that he preferred the company of more attractive allies. The banter was light, but layered.
Seraphina wasn't listening for content. She was watching how they shifted their weight when speaking, where their gazes landed. She noticed that whenever a particular name was mentioned—Duke Foren, Lady Ryven, House Estel, Evelyne's expression would briefly tighten, while Alaric's tone would cool.
There was intent behind each sidelong glance, each delayed breath. When Evelyne touched Alaric's wrist during a laugh, he didn't flinch; his hand naturally rested atop hers for a heartbeat too long. When Alaric adjusted a pin near her collar, Seraphina realized it was the third time he had done so in less than an hour. These weren't accidents, they were rehearsals.
This was their dance. And it had been playing out right under her nose for years.
She remembered an old rumor, one she'd dismissed at the time, about Alaric slipping out of a council meeting early under the guise of illness. That same evening, Evelyne had been seen returning late to her own estate, cloak damp with night fog. Nothing had come of it then, but now, those details clicked into place.
Later, a young noblewoman approached with a fabric sample. Evelyne gave a bland compliment. Seraphina added her own, more precise, more thoughtful.
"It's a bold choice," she said. "Not everyone can wear midnight blue. But you can."
The girl blushed and left with her chin slightly higher.
Small moments. Small gains. But they mattered.
When it was time to leave, Seraphina turned to Evelyne.
"I'm expected elsewhere. Alaric, would you be so kind as to assist Evelyne?"
He agreed at once.
Seraphina left them there, surrounded by admiration and flattery. Let them enjoy it.
She paused at the far end of the hall, just beyond sight. Evelyne laughed, the sound high and sweet. It used to unsettle her. Now it sounded hollow.
She remembered a night three years earlier, just before the Equinox Ball. Evelyne had claimed to have fallen ill, sending a letter from her estate to cancel her attendance. Alaric had disappeared from the hall not long after the opening toast, returning well past midnight with no explanation. Seraphina had asked once where he'd been. He'd smiled and said, "Handling a family matter." At the time, she had believed him.
Now she recognized the pattern. As soon as Seraphina was out of sight, Evelyne invited Alaric for a secret rendezvous.
------
Meanwhile, Seraphina returned to her chambers with a stillness that felt rehearsed. As soon as she was alone, she gave a simple instruction to her handmaid: "Ready the thorns."
The message went out. By nightfall, a tailor and a smith were discreetly contacted. A dress was commissioned in deep crimson, threaded with black thistle. The lining would be woven with sigils—visible only in moonlight.
It would not be a gown for celebration.
It would be a warning.
Let them come dressed in silk.
She would come dressed for war.