THE EMPRESS’S BLOOD PACT

The Calm Before Blood

The corridors of the imperial palace no longer echoed with the clatter of servants or the soft laughter of court ladies. Silence had become its new anthem—thick, heavy, and alert. Outside, the sun hung low like a fading coin in the sky, staining the palace walls with amber light.

Seraphina stood in the garden court, surrounded by falling petals. The cherry blossoms had bloomed early this year—bold, rebellious, and uninvited, much like her. She ran her fingers over one of the pale pink blossoms and let out a slow breath.

It was the first moment of stillness she’d had in days.

Aveline approached from the west colonnade, her cloak trailing softly over stone. Her face, as always, was unreadable—like the pages of a book locked by spells. “They say you haven’t eaten,” she murmured.

“They say a lot of things.” Seraphina didn’t look away from the tree.

Aveline tilted her head. “You should rest. Even fire needs to breathe.”

Seraphina finally turned to her. “Resting is what got us here. I let others move pieces while I dreamed of peace. Not again.”

Aveline stepped closer. “Do you believe Kaelen will keep his word? About summoning the Temple?”

“He has no choice. If he doesn’t… I will.”

There was a pause before Aveline said, “You were softer once. When we were girls running the cliffside. You used to quote poetry. Now… you speak in swords.”

Seraphina’s lips lifted faintly. “That girl died the day my blood pact burned.”

Silence stretched between them. Then, gently, Aveline asked, “And Kaelen? Has your love for him died too?”

Seraphina looked toward the horizon where the towers of the Temple faintly pierced the skyline.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “Some days, I feel it still—like a ghost brushing against my ribs. But I can’t afford love right now.”

Aveline offered a small nod, but her eyes lingered. “What happens when this war ends?”

Seraphina turned away. “If I live… maybe I’ll find the girl who read poetry again. If I don’t—at least I’ll know I burned for something real.”

Before Aveline could reply, a palace guard approached and bowed low. “Your Majesty, the emissary from the Temple has arrived. Alone. And unarmed.”

Seraphina’s expression didn’t change, but the atmosphere around her did. It was as if the garden had lost all color.

“Take him to the red chamber,” she said. “And have the torches lit. No shadows today.”

The guard nodded and retreated.

Aveline looked at her. “You’re walking into a den.”

“I know,” Seraphina replied, brushing a petal from her sleeve. “But wolves don’t fear dens… when they’ve already tasted blood.”