Blades Beneath Silk
752 Words
The morning after the Emperor’s private celebration, Seraphina sat in her dressing chamber, every inch of her draped in silk and lies.
Kael hadn’t touched her. Not fully.
He toyed, teased, tempted—but something in her eyes had stopped him.
He was watching. Testing.
And she had passed… barely.
“Do you want the crimson or the gold robe, Your Majesty?” her maid asked, holding both up.
“Neither,” Seraphina murmured. “Give me black.”
The maid hesitated. “That’s only worn for—”
“I said black.”
A beat passed. Then the girl bowed and obeyed.
Seraphina stood before the mirror. Her fingers grazed the dagger hidden in her thigh strap. She had one rule in this palace: never be unarmed.
The door creaked open behind her.
“I knocked twice,” Darius said dryly.
“I heard you,” she replied without turning. “I didn’t say enter.”
“Didn’t need to.” His tone held a smirk, but his voice was taut.
He saw the black robe. The bare shoulders. The blade glinting on her thigh. And something in him shifted.
“What happened last night?” he asked quietly.
She met his eyes through the mirror. “Nothing I didn’t survive.”
“Seraphina—”
“No,” she snapped, spinning to face him. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Not anymore.”
He stepped closer anyway. “Then let me earn it back.”
She exhaled, eyes burning. “You left me to drown in fire. What makes you think you deserve to pull me from the ashes?”
Before he could answer, a scream echoed through the hallway.
They both turned instantly. Darius drew his sword. Seraphina slid a smaller blade into her sleeve.
Then they ran.
⸻
The east wing was chaos.
Servants were scattering. Nobles looked confused. A guard lay bleeding on the floor near the royal archives.
Kael stood over the body, calm as a storm before it breaks.
Seraphina froze.
“What happened?” Darius demanded.
“An intruder,” Kael said softly, gazing at the blood. “They were looking for something in the royal records.”
“What could they want in the archives?” Seraphina asked.
Kael’s eyes flicked to her. “That’s what I intend to find out.”
She felt the twist of unease in her stomach.
Someone’s digging into the past… into mine.
⸻
Later that night, Seraphina sat in the Empress’s library, her fingers tracing the gold filigree of a forbidden history book.
Nyra entered silently, as always.
“The Emperor sent guards to question the scribes,” she whispered. “But someone else got there first.”
“What do you mean?”
“One of the scribes was found dead… tongue cut out. Message clear.”
Seraphina’s jaw clenched. “We’re not the only ones playing this game.”
“Whoever it was,” Nyra said, “they’re close. They know what to look for.”
Seraphina stared at the ancient crest printed inside the book.
Her family’s sigil.
A hawk piercing a serpent.
It had been erased from every public record. Burned from banners. Declared treasonous. But someone knew it still existed.
Someone else was hunting the same truth she was.
“I need to find the rest of the archives,” she said. “The ones hidden beneath the palace.”
Nyra went pale. “The catacombs? That’s suicide.”
Seraphina met her gaze, cold and unwavering. “So is being Empress.”
⸻
That night, Seraphina donned a servant’s cloak and slipped into the corridors alone.
She moved like smoke. Like memory. Like vengeance.
Down the winding halls, through the kitchen tunnels, into the abandoned chapel beneath the palace—the entrance to the catacombs.
And there, just before she opened the rusted gate, she felt it.
A presence behind her.
She spun, blade in hand.
And froze.
Kael stood in the shadows.
He said nothing for a long time. Then:
“You’re more beautiful in war than you are in silk.”
She gripped her dagger tighter. “And you’re more dangerous when you’re silent.”
He took a step closer.
“You’re not here for prayer,” he murmured.
“Neither are you.”
“Then tell me, Seraphina…”
His voice was low. Lethal.
“…what exactly are you searching for down there?”
She smiled, slow and cold.
“Your end,” she whispered.
- Writer
