SERA'S POV
The servant room is freezing.
I sit on the thin mattress, still wearing Mother's torn blue dress. My hands are bleeding from where I clawed at the guards. The door is locked from outside. I can hear music and laughter from the ballroom above me.
They're celebrating.
Celebrating my destruction.
I should cry. I should scream. But I'm too shocked. Too broken. This morning, I was Lady Sera Ashwood, daughter of a Duke, engaged to a Lord. Tonight, I'm nothing. Less than nothing.
A servant.
The lock clicks. I jump up as the door opens. Lady Vivienne steps inside, and for the first time, I see her real face. No fake smiles. No pretend kindness. Just cold satisfaction.
"You," I breathe. "This was you. All of it."
"Of course it was me." She closes the door behind her. "Did you really think I'd let you keep everything? Your title? Your inheritance? Your position?"
"That's MY inheritance! My mother—"
"Your mother is dead," Vivienne snaps. "And dead women don't own anything. Your father does. And your father listens to me now."
I lunge at her, but she steps back quickly. "Touch me, and I'll tell everyone you attacked me. They'll throw you in the dungeons instead of just the servant quarters."
My hands shake with rage. "Why? Why do you hate me so much?"
"Because you were in the way." She examines her nails like this is boring. "Celeste deserves everything. She's my daughter. You're just... leftover baggage from your father's first marriage."
"The letters," I say, my voice breaking. "The witnesses. All lies."
"Very good lies." Vivienne smiles. "Cost me quite a bit of gold to forge those letters. And the servants? They needed money. Everyone has a price, Sera. Even your precious Marcus."
My stomach drops. "What?"
"Oh, you didn't realize?" She laughs. It's a cruel sound. "Marcus never loved you. I approached him six months ago with an offer. Marry Celeste, get access to the Ashwood fortune and my political connections. He agreed immediately."
"No." The word comes out choked. "He said he loved me. He said—"
"Men lie, darling. Especially when there's money involved." Vivienne moves toward the door. "You'll start work tomorrow at dawn. Kitchen duties first. The head maid will explain your chores."
"I won't do it," I say. "I'll leave. I'll go to the capital and tell them the truth—"
"With what money? What connections?" Vivienne's smile widens. "No one will believe you. You're disgraced. Ruined. If you leave, you'll starve on the streets. At least here, you'll have food and shelter. Though not much of either."
She opens the door.
"Why not just kill me?" I ask quietly. "Wouldn't that be easier?"
Vivienne pauses. For a moment, something dark flashes in her eyes. "Because watching you suffer is so much more satisfying. Every day, you'll scrub floors. You'll empty chamber pots. You'll serve Celeste her meals and watch her live the life that should have been yours." She looks back at me. "Death would be mercy. And I'm not feeling merciful."
The door slams shut. The lock clicks.
I sink to the floor.
She's right. I have no money. No friends. Father believes their lies. The whole kingdom thinks I'm a cheater and a disgrace. There's nowhere to run. No one to help me.
I'm trapped.
Three hours later, I hear footsteps outside my door again. The lock turns. I don't even look up.
"Sera."
That voice. I snap my head up. It's Marcus.
He slips inside and closes the door quietly. In the dim candlelight, he actually looks guilty.
"Get out," I say.
"I need to explain—"
"Explain what?" I stand up, anger flooding through me. "That you never loved me? That you sold me out for money? Lady Vivienne already told me everything."
Marcus flinches. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this."
"How was it supposed to happen?"
"I—" He runs his hand through his hair. "I was going to tell you privately. Break the engagement quietly. But Vivienne insisted on the public announcement. She wanted to humiliate you."
"And you just went along with it." My voice is dead. "You stood there and let them destroy me."
"My family is drowning in debt, Sera! The Thornwell estate is bankrupt. I needed—"
"You needed money more than you needed me." I step closer. "Did you ever love me? Even a little?"
He opens his mouth. Closes it. And that's all the answer I need.
"Get out."
"Sera, please—"
"GET OUT!" I scream it so loud that Marcus stumbles backward. "Get out before I claw your eyes out!"
He runs.
I'm alone again.
And for the first time since the ballroom, I start to cry. Great, heaving sobs that shake my whole body. I cry for the girl I was this morning. The stupid, hopeful girl who thought love was real. Who thought her family cared about her.
That girl is dead now.
When I finally stop crying, my eyes are swollen and my throat is raw. I walk to the tiny window. It's too small to climb through, and we're three floors up anyway.
Below, I can see the garden. Mother's rose garden. She planted it when I was five. She used to take me there every morning to watch the sunrise.
"I'm sorry, Mama," I whisper to the darkness. "I'm so sorry I let them do this."
Then I see something that makes my blood run cold.
In the garden, illuminated by moonlight, are Lady Vivienne and a man in a dark cloak. They're talking urgently. Vivienne hands him a bag—probably gold. The man nods and pulls back his hood for just a moment.
It's Jonathan. The stable hand they accused me of having an affair with.
He's taking money from Vivienne.
He was paid. He was part of the plan all along. But why meet him now, after everything's done?
Vivienne says something else, and I see her point toward the east. Toward the mountains. The Obsidian Mountains where the Dragon King lives.
Why would she be talking about the Dragon King?
Jonathan nods again, pockets the gold, and disappears into the shadows. Vivienne looks up at the house—at my window. I jerk back, but I don't think she saw me.
She smiles. Then she walks back inside.
My mind races. What are they planning? Why mention the Dragon King? That's just a scary story nobles tell. The treaty requires a bride every fifty years, but the last bride was sent thirty years ago. There's no reason to—
Unless.
Oh gods.
Unless the fifty years are almost up.
My legs give out. I sit hard on the floor as the pieces click together.
This wasn't just about taking my inheritance.
This was about making me disposable. Disgraced. Worthless.
The perfect sacrifice.
And tomorrow—or soon—someone from the kingdom will suggest sending a bride to the Dragon King. To avoid war. To fulfill the treaty.
They'll need a noble girl. Someone high-born enough to count as a real offering.
But someone no one will miss.
Someone already ruined.
Someone like me.
"No," I whisper. "No, no, no—"
But even as I say it, I know I'm right.
They didn't just destroy my life tonight.
They signed my death warrant.