Lucien did not banish her.
That was the cruelty of it.
He did not throw her into a cell. Did not command her to leave. Did not punish her for the truth she had delivered like a blade between his ribs.
He simply withdrew.
And the absence was worse than any prison.
Seraphine felt it immediately.
The shift in the pack.
The way the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
Lucien stopped coming to her room.
Stopped seeking her out.
Stopped looking at her like she was something precious instead of dangerous.
He became a shadow present everywhere, yet nowhere she could reach.
At council meetings, he spoke only when necessary. His voice was calm. Controlled. Empty.
When their paths crossed in the corridors, his gaze slid past her as if she were invisible.
Each time, it cut deeper.
Sera
