The palace never slept.
Even in the dead of night, Seraphina could feel it—the whispers sliding through the corridors, the watchful eyes hidden behind stone walls. She stood by the window, arms wrapped around herself, watching torches flicker below like restless fireflies.
Being Kael's wife had not brought safety.
It had painted a target on her back.
"You're tense."
Kael's voice came from behind her, low and steady. She hadn't heard him enter. She never did. That alone sent a strange thrill through her.
She turned. "Everyone is staring. Measuring. Waiting for me to fail."
He stepped closer, his presence instantly grounding her. "Let them," he said calmly. "Fear makes people reckless."
"And desire makes them cruel," she replied softly.
Kael studied her for a long moment, then reached out, brushing his thumb along her wrist in a slow, intimate gesture meant only for her. "You're learning faster than I expected."
His touch lingered just long enough to make her pulse race before he withdrew, turning away as if nothing had happened. The contrast—private warmth, public distance—made her ache.
"There will be attempts," he continued. "To frighten you. To provoke you. Possibly worse."
Seraphina lifted her chin. "And what will you do?"
Kael's eyes darkened as he faced her again. "Anyone who touches you without your consent," he said quietly, "will not live long enough to regret it."
Her breath caught—not from fear, but from the absolute certainty in his voice.
A sudden commotion echoed from the corridor outside. Raised voices. A servant crying out. Then silence.
Kael stiffened instantly.
"Stay here," he ordered.
But Seraphina was already moving.
By the time they reached the hallway, guards were kneeling beside a fallen maid. A folded note lay on the floor beside her.
Kael picked it up, his expression unreadable as he read.
Seraphina watched his jaw tighten.
"What does it say?" she asked.
He met her gaze. "That you are the easiest way to reach me."
The words sent a chill through her spine.
Later that night, when the doors were locked and the torches dimmed, the tension between them snapped like a wire pulled too tight.
Kael backed her gently against the wall, one hand braced beside her head—not trapping her, but close enough to make her heart thunder.
"They will test you," he murmured. "They will test us."
Seraphina's voice was steady, even as her body betrayed her. "Then don't face it alone."
His gaze searched her face, something raw flashing beneath his control. Slowly, he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers.
"You should be afraid of me," he whispered.
"I am," she replied softly. "But I trust you anyway."
That was what broke him.
Not her body.
Not her desire.
Her trust.
His hand slid to her waist, firm, protective, anchoring her to him. His breath warmed her skin as he spoke, voice rough with restrained emotion.
"You are not just my weakness," he said. "You are my choice."
For a moment, the world narrowed to the space between them—the heat, the tension, the promise. Then he pulled back, control snapping firmly back into place.
"Get some rest," he said. "Tomorrow, the real games begin."
As he turned away, Seraphina realized the truth:
Loving Kael was dangerous.
But being loved by him?
That was lethal—to everyone else.