Seraphina's POV
The dungeon cell was freezing.
I sat on the cold stone floor, my hands still bound behind my back, my birthday gown torn and dirty. Every part of my body hurt. But the pain in my chest—the pain of betrayal—hurt worse than anything else.
My family had destroyed me.
The heavy door scraped open. Torchlight flooded in, blinding me.
"Get up," a guard barked. "The court wants to see you again."
Again? Why?
They hauled me to my feet and dragged me through the dark corridors. My legs barely worked. I hadn't eaten since the party. How long ago was that? Hours? Days?
When we reached the throne room, I gasped.
It was packed with people. Nobles, servants, soldiers—everyone who was anyone in the kingdom. They all turned to stare at me as the guards shoved me forward.
I stumbled and fell to my knees at the base of the throne.
King Edward looked down at me with tired eyes. "Seraphina Ashford, you stand accused of high treason. Today, we present the full evidence of your crimes."
My father stepped forward. He wore his military uniform, every medal polished, every button gleaming. He looked like a hero.
He looked nothing like the man who used to braid my hair when I was little.
"Your Majesty," Father said, his voice steady and strong. "I come before you not as a proud general, but as a ashamed father. My daughter has betrayed everything I taught her. Everything our family stands for."
Lies. All lies.
"Show them," King Edward commanded.
A servant brought forward a large table and set it in the center of the room. Captain Marcus spread out the evidence piece by piece, holding each item up for everyone to see.
"Letter one," Marcus announced. "Dated three months ago. Lady Seraphina offers to sell information about the Northern Border patrol schedules for fifty gold coins."
He held up the letter. My seal pressed into red wax at the bottom.
"Letter two. Dated two months ago. She provides details about our weapons shipments and asks for one hundred gold coins."
Another letter. Another seal.
"Letter three. Dated one month ago. She gives the enemy our secret supply routes and the locations of our hidden camps."
The crowd gasped and murmured angrily.
"I never wrote those!" I screamed. "Someone forged them! Please, you have to believe me!"
"Silence!" Marcus roared. "We also found this hidden in your wardrobe."
He pulled out a black cloak and a mask.
"A disguise," he explained. "Used for secret meetings with enemy spies at the Old Mill outside the city. Three witnesses saw a woman in this exact cloak meeting with strangers on the nights these letters were dated."
My mouth fell open. This was impossible. I'd never owned a black cloak. I'd never been to the Old Mill at night. I barely left the castle!
"The witnesses?" King Edward asked.
Three servants stepped forward—all of them worked in my stepmother's household. All of them avoided my eyes.
"Tell the court what you saw," Marcus ordered.
The first servant, an older woman named Marta, spoke in a shaky voice. "I saw Lady Seraphina leave the castle at midnight, wearing a black cloak. She headed toward the Old Mill."
"Marta, no!" I cried. "You know that's not true! You're lying!"
But she wouldn't look at me.
The second servant confirmed the same story. Then the third.
All lies. All perfectly planned lies.
"And finally," Marcus said dramatically, "we have the payment."
He dumped the bag of gold coins onto the table. They scattered and rolled, glinting in the torchlight.
"Thirty gold pieces. Found in a locked box under Lady Seraphina's bed. Each coin bears the mark of Valcrest."
The crowd exploded in angry shouts.
"Traitor!"
"How could she?"
"The general's own daughter!"
I couldn't breathe. This was too much. Too perfect. Every piece of evidence, every witness, every detail—it all pointed to me.
Someone had planned this very carefully.
"Do you deny these charges?" King Edward asked me directly.
"Yes!" I sobbed. "Your Majesty, I swear I'm innocent! I never betrayed anyone! Someone set me up! Please, please investigate—"
"We did investigate," my father interrupted coldly. "For two weeks, we searched for any other explanation. We found none. The evidence is overwhelming, Seraphina. Accept your punishment with dignity."
Two weeks?
My mind raced. Two weeks meant they'd been planning this since before my birthday. They'd been building this case, planting evidence, bribing witnesses.
While I'd been planning my wedding and choosing flowers, my own family had been plotting my destruction.
But why?
"Prince Daemon," King Edward called out. "You were engaged to the accused. Do you have anything to say?"
My heart jumped. Maybe Daemon would speak for me. Maybe he knew something. Maybe—
Daemon stepped forward, his face blank. "Your Majesty, I must confess something."
Wait. What?
"Three weeks ago, Lady Seraphina came to me in private. She asked me strange questions about our military plans. About troop movements and supply schedules." He paused, looking pained. "At the time, I thought she was just curious. Now I realize... she was gathering information."
"No!" I screamed. "Daemon, that never happened! We never had that conversation! You're lying!"
But Daemon continued like I hadn't spoken. "She also asked me to help her access my father's private war room. I refused, of course. But she became angry. Aggressive. I should have reported it then. I'm sorry I didn't."
The room spun. Even Daemon was lying. Even the man who'd kissed me and promised to love me forever was helping to bury me.
King Edward nodded slowly. "The evidence is clear. Seraphina Ashford, you are guilty of treason. The penalty is death by hanging at dawn."
"No!" I thrashed against my guards. "This is murder! You're all murderers!"
"However," the king continued, raising his hand for silence, "Duke Ashford has requested mercy for his daughter. Instead of execution, we will deliver her to King Cassian of Valcrest. Let the enemy she served so faithfully decide her fate."
My stepmother stepped forward then, dabbing at fake tears. "Your Majesty, you are too kind. Too merciful. My poor husband's heart is broken." She placed her hand on my father's arm. "But perhaps this way, she can be useful one last time. Perhaps King Cassian will accept her as... compensation for the war she helped him start."
My blood turned to ice.
Compensation. She made me sound like a payment. Like a bag of gold or a peace offering.
"Father," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Please. Look at me. I'm your daughter. Your blood. Don't do this."
For just a second, my father's eyes met mine. And I saw it—a flash of something. Guilt? Regret? Pain?
Then my stepmother squeezed his arm, and his face went cold again.
"You have shamed our family," he said, his voice like stone. "You are no daughter of mine."
Those words shattered what was left of my heart.
"Take her away," King Edward ordered. "She leaves for Valcrest tomorrow at first light."
As the guards dragged me toward the exit, I caught sight of my stepmother and stepsister standing together near the back of the room.
Ravenna's face was calm and satisfied.
But Lydia looked worried. Nervous. She kept glancing at her mother, then at me, then back at her mother.
And in that moment, I understood.
Lydia had helped frame me, yes. But she hadn't wanted to. Her mother had forced her.
Which meant Ravenna was behind everything. The letters, the witnesses, the lies. All of it.
But why? What did she gain from destroying me?
"Wait!" I shouted desperately. "Your Majesty, please! My stepmother—she's the one—"
A guard clamped his hand over my mouth, cutting off my words.
They hauled me out of the throne room and back toward the dungeons. Behind me, I heard my stepmother's voice, sweet as honey: "Such a troubled girl. We tried so hard to help her."
The dungeon door slammed shut.
I collapsed on the floor, my body shaking with sobs.
Tomorrow, I would be delivered to the Iron King like a gift. Like a sacrifice.
King Cassian Blackwood—the monster who killed for fun. The enemy who bathed in the blood of his victims.
I would be dead within a week.
But just before I closed my eyes, I heard footsteps outside my cell. Soft. Careful.
The small window in my door opened, and someone slipped a folded paper through.
I crawled to it and unfolded it with trembling hands.
Four words, written in elegant handwriting:
"He knows you're innocent."
My heart stopped.
Who wrote this? Who knew?
And more importantly...
Who was "he"?