Ch 10- Dangerous Distractions
1286 Words
Seraphina woke up with the kind of dread usually reserved for final exams and unexpected audits. The note from Adrian still sat on her desk like a polite declaration of war. We should discuss your 'story' properly tomorrow.
"Today is tomorrow," she groaned, face-planting into her pillow. "Elena Voss, you absolute disaster. Journaling your transmigration trauma was supposed to be therapeutic, not a smoking gun."
Martha entered with breakfast and a new gown soft cream with subtle silver threading that made Seraphina look like a winter rose. "His Grace has requested your presence for a morning ride through the outer grounds. He says it's to discuss 'engagement logistics.'"
Translation: Interrogation on horseback. Great.
Seraphina dressed quickly, muttering her cover story under her breath like a prayer. "It's fiction. I'm an aspiring writer. Very dramatic imagination. Nothing literal. Please believe me, Mr. Silver Eyes."
Adrian waited in the courtyard atop a massive black warhorse that looked like it ate lesser horses for breakfast. He was dressed for riding dark leather and cloak, silver eyes sharp in the morning light. When Seraphina approached on her own gentle white mare (which still felt too elegant for her), he offered a faint, knowing smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"Lady Seraphina. You slept well, I hope?"
"Like someone who definitely didn't write incriminating things about capture targets," she replied cheerfully, then winced. Filter, Elena.
They set off at a gentle pace along the wooded paths bordering the Valtoria estate. Birds sang. Flowers bloomed. The tension between them could have powered a small city.
Adrian waited until they were out of earshot of the accompanying guards before pulling a familiar leather journal from his saddlebag. Seraphina's heart dropped straight into her boots.
"I believe this belongs to you," he said, voice deceptively calm. He flipped it open to a page covered in her frantic handwriting. "Fascinating reading. Especially the part where I'm labeled a 'final boss' who orchestrates accidents. And something about Liliana not being what she seems."
Seraphina nearly slid off her horse. She grabbed the pommel for dear life.
"That… is fictional!" she blurted. "I'm thinking of becoming a writer. Yes. A novelist. It's all made up. Dramatic stories to pass the time. You know how ladies get bored with embroidery and gossip. I have a very active imagination. Truck accidents, transmigration, evil heroines ,classic fantasy tropes. Pure fiction. I was going to burn it, actually. Very private. Extremely embarrassing."
Adrian slowed his horse, turning to study her with a deep frown. The dry humor from yesterday was gone. This was full interrogation mode , silver eyes narrowed, jaw tight. "You expect me to believe the detailed notes about 'orchestrated accidents,' specific names, and my supposed role in your death are… creative writing?"
"Exactly!" Seraphina nodded too vigorously, her silver hair bouncing. "I have a flair for the dramatic. In my story, you're this brooding anti-hero with tragic northern backstory. Very marketable. Readers would love the slow-burn tension. I mean the fictional tension."
Adrian's frown deepened. He leaned closer across the space between their horses. "And the part where you wrote 'Must avoid all capture targets'? Or how Liliana's 'subtle barbs' feel like threats? Those sound remarkably specific to recent events. Almost as if you knew things before they happened."
Seraphina's mouth went dry. He's too sharp. This is why he's the secret villain in the original novel.
She panicked and did the first thing that came to mind: distraction via chaos.
"Oh look wildflowers!" She pointed dramatically to a patch of blue blooms beside the path and "accidentally" nudged her mare closer to his. The horse shied slightly. Seraphina let out a very realistic squeak and tilted sideways in the saddle.
Adrian's arm shot out instantly, catching her around the waist and pulling her upright. For a moment, she was half in his lap, their faces inches apart. His hand burned through the fabric of her gown. Warmth. Solid muscle.
That pine-and-steel scent that was becoming dangerously familiar.
"Careful," he murmured, voice lower now.
His frown softened despite himself, suspicion warring with that growing fascination. "You're remarkably clumsy for someone who claims to be inventing entire conspiracies."
Seraphina's cheeks flamed. Physical awareness hit her again the way his fingers splayed possessively at her side, the steady rhythm of his breathing. Avoid him. He's dangerous. But her traitorous body leaned into the contact for half a second too long.
"Sorry," she breathed. "Horses and I have a complicated relationship. Like me and… political engagements."
Adrian didn't release her immediately. His silver eyes searched her face. "You're dodging again. What are you hiding, little Valtoria? No ordinary woman wakes up one day spouting modern logistics and writing detailed prophecies about her own downfall."
Modern. The word sent ice down her spine. She'd slipped again.
Quick distraction round two: She straightened up but "accidentally" brushed her hand against his as she adjusted her reins. "I told you writer's imagination. I read too many old scrolls in the library. They're full of wild ideas. Like hub-and-spoke trade systems. Or… strong female leads who survive by being boring. That's my new genre. 'Boring Heroine Saves Herself.' Very niche."
Adrian exhaled a low chuckle despite the frown. The dry humor crept back in. "You're terrible at lying. It's almost endearing." He finally released her waist, but his gaze lingered. "I won't push today. But this conversation isn't over. Your 'fiction' is too accurate to ignore. Especially the parts about Princess Liliana."
They continued the ride in charged silence for a while. Seraphina's mind raced. Adrian was peeling back her layers faster than she could rebuild them. But instead of fear, she felt a strange thrill mixed with panic.
As they looped back toward the estate, she spotted movement near the stables. Lily and Captain Elias Thorne were "coincidentally" checking on horses. The maid's laugh carried on the breeze as Elias handed her a small carved wooden wolf pendant. A sweet, stolen moment.
Seraphina smiled despite everything. At least one romance was going right.
But the smile faded when she noticed a familiar golden figure watching from a distant balcony. Liliana. The princess's expression was unreadable, but her gaze flicked between Seraphina, Adrian, and the hidden side couple before she turned away.
She's watching everyone.
Back at the manor, Adrian dismounted and helped Seraphina down, his hands lingering at her waist again. The romance beat settled deep in her chest , warmth spreading from every point of contact.
"I'll return your journal," he said quietly. "After I finish reading the remaining chapters, of course. For research."
Seraphina's eyes widened in horror. "You can't ... that's private fiction!"
Adrian's faint smile returned, dangerous and intrigued. "Then perhaps you'll have to tell me the ending yourself. Personally."
He left her standing in the courtyard, heart pounding.
That night, as Seraphina frantically tried to remember what else she'd written, a servant delivered a small package. Inside was a single silver wolf charm on a chain ,elegant, northern craftsmanship.
A note in Adrian's handwriting accompanied it:
For the aspiring writer. May it protect you from fictional accidents. — A.
Seraphina clutched the charm, a mix of terror and unwanted butterflies swirling in her stomach.
But the real hook came at dawn the next day.
A royal messenger arrived, pale and shaken. "An attack on Princess Liliana's private carriage last night. She was unharmed… but the driver was found with a note pinned to his coat."
The note contained only five words.
Villainesses don't get happy endings.
Seraphina stared at the message copy her father showed her, blood running cold.
Someone was escalating.
And with her journal in Adrian's hands, she was no longer sure who the real target was.
- Writer
