Seraphina's POV
They threw me into the cage like a sack of grain.
My body hit the wooden floor hard. Pain shot through my ribs. I gasped for air, tasting dirt and blood.
"Welcome to your new home, traitor," a soldier laughed, slamming the cage door shut. The lock clicked with a sound that made my heart sink.
I was trapped.
The cage was small—barely big enough to sit up in. Iron bars on all sides. No blanket. No cushion. Just hard wood and cold metal.
Through the bars, I watched soldiers load supplies onto other wagons. Horses snorted and stamped their feet. Captain Marcus shouted orders.
This was really happening. They were taking me to the Iron King.
"Move out!" Marcus bellowed.
The wagon lurched forward. I grabbed the bars to keep from falling over as we rolled out of the castle courtyard.
People lined the streets to watch. They threw more rotten food. Screamed more insults.
"Die, traitor!"
"The Iron King will tear you apart!"
"You deserve everything you get!"
I pulled my knees to my chest and tried to make myself as small as possible. Tried to disappear.
But I couldn't escape their hate.
By the second day, I understood what real suffering felt like.
The soldiers gave me one piece of stale bread and a cup of dirty water each morning. That was it. My stomach cramped with hunger. My throat burned with thirst.
The wagon never stopped moving. Every bump in the road sent pain through my body. I couldn't stretch. Couldn't stand. Could barely breathe in the cramped space.
"Hey, traitor," one of the soldiers called out, riding his horse close to my cage. His name was Garrett—I recognized him from the castle guard. "Heard the Iron King likes to torture his prisoners before he kills them. Pulls out fingernails one by one."
Another soldier laughed. "I heard he keeps them in a pit with rats. Lets the rats eat them slowly."
"Nah," a third one said. "He burns them alive. Likes to watch them scream."
They were trying to scare me.
It was working.
"Please," I whispered through cracked lips. "Water. Just a little more water."
Garrett rode closer, holding his water flask. For a moment, I thought he might show mercy.
Then he opened it and poured the water on the ground in front of my cage.
"Oops," he said with a nasty grin. "Clumsy me."
The other soldiers roared with laughter.
I watched the water disappear into the dirt and wanted to cry. But I had no tears left. My body was too dehydrated.
That night, as we camped in a forest clearing, I clutched my mother's necklace and thought about her.
Mama had died when I was thirteen. A riding accident, they said. Her horse threw her, and she hit her head on a rock.
But sometimes... sometimes I wondered if it really was an accident.
My stepmother Ravenna married Father only six months later. Six months. Barely enough time to mourn.
Had Ravenna done something to Mama? Had she wanted Father's title and wealth that badly?
"Mama," I whispered to the necklace, "I wish you were here. You'd know what to do. You always knew."
Mama had been strong. Brave. She'd taught me to read and write when Father was too busy with war. She'd told me stories about honor and courage and standing up for what's right.
"Seraphina," I could almost hear her voice, "real strength isn't about power or fighting. It's about surviving when everyone wants you to break. It's about keeping your heart soft in a hard world."
I closed my eyes and tried to remember her face. Her smile. The way she smelled like lavender and honey.
"I'm trying to stay strong, Mama," I whispered. "I'm trying. But I'm so scared."
A sound made me freeze.
Footsteps. Quiet ones. Coming toward my cage.
I looked up and saw a figure in the darkness. Not a soldier—too small. Too careful.
"Who's there?" I croaked.
The figure moved into the moonlight.
It was a boy. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. He wore simple clothes—probably a servant or stable boy.
"Shh," he whispered, glancing toward the sleeping soldiers. "Don't wake them."
He pulled something from his bag. Bread. Fresh bread. And a water flask.
He pushed them through the bars of my cage.
I stared at the food like it was gold. My hands shook as I grabbed it.
"Why?" I whispered. "Why are you helping me?"
The boy looked at me with sad eyes. "Because my sister was accused of something she didn't do too. They hanged her last year. Said she stole from the castle." He swallowed hard. "She was innocent. Just like you."
Tears filled my eyes. "I'm sorry about your sister."
"Drink," he said quietly. "Eat. You'll need your strength."
I drank the water so fast I almost choked. The bread was the most delicious thing I'd ever tasted.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Thomas." He smiled a little. "And don't worry about the Iron King. He's not what they say."
There it was again. The same message from the notes.
"How do you know?" I pressed.
But Thomas was already backing away. "Just trust me. When you meet him, don't believe their lies. Believe your own eyes."
Then he disappeared into the darkness.
I sat clutching the empty flask, my mind racing. First the mysterious notes. Then the kind guard. Now this boy.
People were helping me. People who believed I was innocent.
But why? What did they know that I didn't?
On the third morning, I woke to shouting.
"We're here!" Captain Marcus yelled. "Border checkpoint! Prepare the prisoner for transfer!"
My heart stopped.
We were at the border. At Valcrest territory.
I was about to meet the Iron King.
Soldiers unlocked my cage and dragged me out. My legs wouldn't work properly—I'd been cramped for too long. They had to hold me up.
Ahead, I saw a massive stone wall marking the border between kingdoms. And beyond it...
Valcrest.
The enemy kingdom.
My hands shook uncontrollably. This was it. My death was waiting on the other side of that wall.
"Look at her," Garrett sneered. "Shaking like a leaf. The Iron King's going to love breaking you."
They pushed me forward, through the checkpoint gate.
On the other side, Valcrest soldiers waited. They wore black armor with silver wolves on their chests. They looked bigger, stronger, more dangerous than Aelorian soldiers.
And in the center of them all stood a man on a black horse.
Even from a distance, I could feel his presence. His power.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark hair. And eyes—even from here, I could see his eyes.
Silver. Like moonlight.
Like a wolf's eyes.
King Cassian Blackwood. The Iron King himself.
He'd come personally to claim his prisoner.
Captain Marcus shoved me forward. "Here's your spy, Your Majesty. Seraphina Ashford, as promised. She's all yours."
I fell to my knees in the dirt between the two armies. Between two kingdoms. Between my past and my death.
King Cassian dismounted his horse and walked toward me. Each step deliberate. Powerful.
I kept my head down, too terrified to look at him.
His boots stopped right in front of me. Black leather. Polished.
"Look at me," he commanded.
His voice was deep. Rough. But not cruel. Not yet.
Slowly, I lifted my head.
And I looked into the eyes of the man everyone said was a monster.
What I saw made my breath catch.
He wasn't looking at me with hatred or disgust. He wasn't smiling cruelly or planning my torture.
He was looking at me with... anger. Yes. But not at me.
At the bruises on my face. The cuts on my wrists from the chains. My torn dress and dirty skin.
His jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle twitch.
"Who did this to you?" he asked quietly.
The question confused me. "I... what?"
"Who hurt you?" His silver eyes burned into mine. "Who starved you? Who beat you?"
I glanced at Captain Marcus, but King Cassian snapped, "Don't look at him. Look at me. Answer my question."
"I... they... I'm a prisoner," I stammered. "This is how prisoners are treated."
Something dangerous flashed across his face.
He turned to Captain Marcus. "You brought her to me in this condition?"
Marcus laughed nervously. "She's a traitor, Your Majesty. We weren't exactly gentle."
King Cassian's hand moved to the sword at his belt.
My heart stopped.
Was he going to kill Marcus right here? Start a war at the border?
But instead, he looked back at me. His expression softened—just a little.
"Can you stand?" he asked.
"I... I think so."
He offered me his hand.
I stared at it, confused. The Iron King was offering to help me up?
This had to be a trick. A trap.
But what choice did I have?
I took his hand.
His grip was strong but gentle as he pulled me to my feet. I swayed, dizzy from hunger and exhaustion.
He steadied me with his other hand on my arm.
"You're safe now," he said quietly. Only I could hear him. "I promise you—you're safe."
Then he turned to his soldiers and said something that made my world tilt:
"Take Lady Seraphina to the medical tent. Get her food, water, and clean clothes. And someone find her a proper room in the castle."
Lady? Room? Not dungeon?
Captain Marcus laughed. "Surely you mean the prison, Your Majesty?"
King Cassian looked at him with eyes so cold, Marcus actually stepped back.
"I meant," the king said slowly, "exactly what I said."
He looked at me one more time. "Welcome to Valcrest, Lady Seraphina. No one will hurt you here."
Then he walked back to his horse, leaving me standing there in shock.
The monster everyone feared had just promised to protect me.
But why?
What did he want?
And why did his promise feel more real than anything my own family ever said?