He had ordered a massacre of corrupt officials as casually as one orders a cup of tea.
"Close the door, Gallahan," Kaelus said without looking up. "We are behind schedule."
"Yes, Your Grace."
The heavy door swung shut, sealing them back inside the velvet-lined fortress. The screams outside were muffled instantly. The carriage lurched forward, the iron wheels grinding against the stones.
Mira— no, Seraphina, unwrapped the candy and popped it into her mouth. The sweetness exploded on her tongue, masking the bitter taste of the medicine she had imagined earlier.
She looked at her new father. The Dark Lord that people call a monster.
He was reading a report on grain taxes.
She chewed her candy, swung her short legs, and thought: 'Well. At least the food is going to be better.'
As the carriage gathered speed, leaving the burning corruption of her past behind, Seraphina von Nacht settled into the cushions. She closed her eyes, and for the first time in her second life, she slept without seeing a single ghost.
.
.
.
The dream had been pleasant. In it, Seraphina was back in her studio apartment, eating a large, greasy pepperoni pizza while binge-watching a drama about court intrigue. The cheese was stretching, the crust was crispy, and the soda was ice cold.
Then, the pizza vanished.
Seraphina's eyes snapped open.
Reality crashed down on her with the weight of a sledgehammer. The velvet ceiling of the carriage stared back at her.
The rhythmic rocking motion had stopped. The air was cold, seeping through the cracks of the door, carrying the scent of damp earth, pine needles, and... nothing else.
There was no pizza. There was no pepperoni.
There was only a hollow, gnawing cavern in her stomach that felt like it was trying to digest her own spine.
Seraphina sat up, blinking blearily. The magical lamp in the ceiling had dimmed to a low amber glow. Outside, the sky had turned a bruised purple, the sun having dipped below the horizon while she slept.
Her biological clock, or rather, the biological clock of a six-year-old body, rang the alarm. Blood sugar is low.
Critical failure imminent.
Initiate emergency protocol: SCREAM.
"I'm Hungry!"
The word didn't come out as a request. It came out as a war cry.
Across from her, the dark statue that was Duke Kaelus von Nacht didn't flinch, but his eyebrow twitched. He was reading a scroll, his finger tracing a line of supply routes.
"We are stopped," he said, not looking up. "The knights are establishing the perimeter. Food will be prepared shortly."
Shortly.
To an adult, "shortly" meant ten minutes. To a starving child whose metabolism was running on overdrive, "shortly" meant never.
Seraphina's stomach let out a growl that sounded like a disgruntled badger trapped in a sack.
"No, shortly!" she wailed, the tears welling up in her eyes with alarming speed. "Hungry now!"
The Duke slowly lowered the scroll. He looked at her with eyes that were usually reserved for enemy generals who had made a fatal tactical error.
The silence of the carriage, which he prized so dearly, was being shattered by the acoustic weapon sitting on the opposite bench.
"Control yourself," he ordered, his voice cold. "Patience is a virtue."
"Patience doesn't fill the tummy, Uncle!" Seraphina retorted, her logic unimpeachable.
She kicked her legs. She wasn't just acting. The hunger was making her dizzy, and the childish brain chemistry was flooding her system with cortisol. She needed calories, and she needed them immediately.
She looked out the window. The knights were bustling about.
A fire was being kindled, but the pot hanging over it was empty. They were still chopping vegetables. Chopping! They hadn't even started the broth!
It was a disaster.
"I'm dying," Seraphina announced melodramatically, flopping back onto the cushion. "I am fading away. Goodbye, cruel world."
The Duke went back to his scroll. "You are not dying. You are merely inconvenient."
Seraphina narrowed her eyes. 'Fine. If the service here is terrible, I'll find my own buffet.'
She sat up, wiped her nose on her sleeve, earning a grimace of disgust from the Duke, and shimmied toward the door. It was unlatched. She pushed it open with both hands.
The drop to the ground was significant for someone with legs the length of baguettes. She hesitated, then turned around and slid down on her stomach, her feet dangling until they hit the step, then the ground.
The Duke watched her exit over the top of his scroll. He didn't stop her. In his mind, the campsite was surrounded by elite knights of the Black Bastion. A squirrel couldn't enter without being incinerated. A toddler certainly couldn't leave.
Let her run around, he thought. Maybe she'll tire herself out and go back to sleep.
He was wrong.
Seraphina hit the grass and immediately engaged her survival radar. The camp was set up in a clearing bordered by a dense thicket of forest. The smell of pine was overwhelming.
"Lady Seraphina?"
A knight passing by with an armful of firewood stopped, looking surprised.
Seraphina ignored him. Her nose twitched. Beneath the smell of pine and horse manure, she smelled something sweet. Earthy and sweet.
She began to march towards the tree line.
"Wait! Lady Seraphina, please stay near the fire!" the knight called out, dropping his firewood.
"I'm busy! I don't hear you!" she shouted back, waddling faster.
She reached the edge of the clearing where the manicured road met the wild, untamed forest. There, growing in a chaotic tangle of thorns and broad leaves, was a bush covered in small, dark purple berries.
Nightshade? No.
Wolfsbane? No.
Seraphina's eyes, which were both her physical ones and her internal encyclopedia of poverty, scanned the plant.
'Found 'em!' Seraphina hollered in her mind as her eyes glinted brightly.
These were Gloomberries.
In the orphanage, the older kids called them "Stomach-Fillers." They grew in the shade behind the stables. They were sweet, pulpy, and wildly abundant because the adults thought they were poisonous weeds.