Reborn for the Hidden Heir

Chapter 2: The Eyes

The door burst open without a knock. Evelyne swept in like she owned the room, which technically she did now, since her mother controlled the estate. She wore a pale blue day dress that matched her eyes, her golden hair arranged in soft curls. She looked sweet. Approachable. The kind of younger sister any woman would be lucky to have.

I knew what she really was.

"Seraphina, there you are." She crossed the room and took my hands in hers. Her skin was warm. Her smile reached her eyes. "I've been looking everywhere. Mother wants to discuss your presentation gown for the selection ceremony. She thinks ivory would suit you, but I told her red would be more striking. Your color, after all."

I stared at her.

In my previous life, this moment had made me feel loved. Seen. Evelyne had been my closest confidante, the one who helped me choose fabrics, who practiced curtsies with me until my knees bruised, who whispered that Lucien would fall in love with me the moment he saw me.

She had been poisoning me even then. Slowly. Carefully. Preparing my body to fail when she needed it to.

"Seraphina?" Her perfect brow furrowed. "You're pale. Are you ill?"

Yes, I wanted to say. You killed me. You killed my baby. You smiled while I bled out on the floor and begged for mercy.

Instead, I pulled my hands free and walked to the wardrobe. My reflection in the mirror showed a woman composed, calm, untouched by the hurricane tearing through her chest.

"I'm fine," I said. My voice sounded strange in my ears. Distant. "Just nervous about the ceremony."

Evelyne's smile flickered. Just for a moment. Then it brightened, sharpened, became the weapon I knew it to be.

"Don't be nervous. You're the eldest daughter of a noble house. Beautiful. Accomplished." She moved behind me, her hands resting on my shoulders as she met my eyes in the mirror. "Any prince would be lucky to have you."

Any prince except the one you want for yourself.

I held her gaze in the glass. Two years ago, I would have seen affection there. Sisterly pride. Now I saw the calculation, the cold assessment, the way her eyes measured my dress, my posture, my value as competition.

She was already sleeping with him.

I didn't know how I knew. Maybe it was the smugness hiding behind her concern. Maybe it was the way she'd said any prince instead of the prince. But standing there, staring at my own death in a blue silk dress, I was certain of it.

Evelyne and Lucien were already together.

The love I'd mourned, the marriage I'd grieved, the future I'd died for, it had been rotting from the start. While I was practicing curtsies and choosing fabrics, my sister was in his bed. While I was dreaming of crowns and nursery rooms, they were planning my obsolescence.

"You're right," I said softly. "Any prince would do."

Evelyne's grip on my shoulders tightened almost imperceptibly. "What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said." I turned to face her, stepping out of her reach. "The selection ceremony is about political alliance, isn't it? Not love. I should keep my options open. Consider all the princes equally."

Her laugh was too quick, too bright. "There's only one prince who matters, Seraphina. Lucien is the crown prince. The future king. The others are barely worth mentioning."

"The second prince is still royal blood."

"Cedric?" She said his name like she'd tasted something sour. "He's violent. Unstable. No woman of sense would..." She stopped herself. Smoothed her expression. "But of course, you're right to be practical. I just want you to be happy. We all do."

Liar.

I smiled at her. It felt like baring teeth. "I know exactly what you want, Evelyne. Don't worry. This time, I'll make sure you get it."

She blinked, confused by the phrasing, but I was already moving past her toward the door. My heart hammered against my ribs. My hands trembled at my sides. But my mind was clear for the first time in two years of life and death.

I wasn't going to marry Lucien Noctari.

I wasn't going to carry his child or wear his crown or die in his palace while my sister watched.

I was going to survive.

The hallway stretched before me, familiar and foreign. I walked toward the stairs, toward the front hall, toward the garden gates, and toward the city beyond. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't have a plan. I had forty-eight hours to undo two years of tragedy, and I had no idea where to start.

But I knew one thing with absolute, bone-deep certainty:

If I stayed in this house, if I walked into that ballroom, if I let history repeat itself...

I would die again.

And this time, I wouldn't get another chance.

I pushed through the garden doors into the late afternoon air. The path curved toward the old rose arbor, overgrown and forgotten since Mother's death. I walked faster, then ran, my slippers crunching on gravel, my breath coming in sharp gasps that weren't entirely from exertion.

I didn't see the man standing in the shadows until I collided with him.

Hard chest. Strong hands catching my elbows. A scent like smoke and ancient stone.

I looked up.

Golden eyes stared down at me from a face that had no business existing in the daylight. Black hair. Skin pale as marble. He was taller than anyone I'd ever met, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark clothes that belonged to no house I recognized.

His grip on my arms tightened. Not painful. Possessive.

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

Then his nostrils flared, and something changed in his expression. Something animal. Something hungry.

"You smell," he said slowly, his voice like gravel dragged over velvet, "like someone who just decided not to die."

I should have pulled away. I should have screamed, run, called for guards.

Instead, I stood frozen in the grip of a stranger with golden eyes, and felt the first true spark of hope I'd known in two lifetimes.

"Who are you?" I whispered.

His thumb brushed the inside of my wrist, and I felt my pulse jump against his skin.

"Someone," he murmured, "who was never supposed to meet you."

Behind us, through the open garden doors, I heard Evelyne calling my name.

The stranger's head turned toward the sound. His lip curled, revealing teeth that were slightly too sharp.

"Your sister," he said. Not a question.

"You know her?"

"I know what she is." His golden eyes returned to mine, searching, seeing too much. "The question is whether you do."

I pulled free of his grip. My arms felt cold without his hands.

"I know exactly what she is," I said.

Something flickered in his expression. Surprise, maybe. Or recognition.

"Then you're already ahead of where you were meant to be." He stepped back into the shadows, becoming indistinct, becoming myth. "The ceremony is in two days, Lady Seraphina. Choose carefully. Not every prince wears his crown where you can see it."

He was gone before I could demand answers.

I stood alone in the garden, my heart racing, my mind reeling. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of blood and gold. Behind me, Evelyne's voice drew closer, sweet and searching, a predator calling its prey home.

I looked at the space where the stranger had stood.

Then I turned and walked back toward the house, toward my sister, toward a future I was finally desperate enough to fight for.

Two days.

I would need every minute.