Seraphina's POV
Jump!
Marguerite's command cuts through the night air. I'm standing on the windowsill three stories up, staring down at darkness. Wind whips my cloak around me.
I can't! My voice shakes. It's too high!
The assassins will return any minute. Jump or die. Choose!
Below, I can barely see the ground. But I can hear voices—men's voices—shouting in the convent courtyard. The fake guards are coming back.
I close my eyes and jump.
The fall lasts forever. Wind screams past my ears. Then I hit something soft—hay bales. Marguerite planned this. She knew we'd need to escape.
Move! Marguerite lands beside me with surprising grace for an old woman. She grabs my hand and we run.
Behind us, someone shouts. There! Two women running!
Footsteps pound after us. Marguerite pulls me into the forest surrounding the convent. Branches scratch my face. Roots try to trip me. My lungs burn.
A arrow whistles past my head and hits a tree.
They're shooting at us.
This way! Marguerite yanks me left. We splash through a cold stream and climb up a rocky hill. My legs scream with pain but I don't stop.
Finally, we reach a small cave hidden behind bushes. Marguerite shoves me inside and covers the entrance with branches.
We collapse on the cold stone floor, gasping for air.
Outside, the assassins' voices fade. They're searching in the wrong direction.
We're safe, Marguerite whispers. For now.
I want to cry from relief and terror. My father really tried to kill me. My own father hired men to murder me and make it look like suicide.
Why? The word comes out broken. Why does Father want me dead?
Marguerite's expression hardens. Because you're dangerous to him now. If you somehow proved your innocence, if people learned he disowned you for a lie, his reputation would be destroyed. Better to have you dead and buried than risk you coming back.
But I have no proof. I have nothing.
You have something more valuable than proof. She taps my forehead. You have rage. And the intelligence to use it. That makes you very dangerous.
We spend the night in that cold cave. At dawn, Marguerite leads me to another locationan abandoned cottage deep in the forest. It's small and dusty but has a fireplace and two beds.
This was my backup plan, she explains. I've owned this cottage for thirty years. No one knows about it.
You've been planning revenge for thirty years?
No, child. I finished my revenge twenty years ago. But I learned to always have an escape route. She smiles grimly. You never know when powerful men might decide you're inconvenient.
We clean the cottage and settle in. That evening, Marguerite sits me down at a small table.
Your education starts now, she says. First lesson: who was Seraphina Ashford?
I... I was a duke's daughter. I liked reading and music. I was engaged to
Wrong. Marguerite slaps the table. That girl is dead. Buried. Gone. If you want revenge, you cannot be her anymore.
My throat tightens. But that's who I am.
Who you were. Past tense. She leans forward. Seraphina was naive. Trusting. Weak. She believed in love and honor. And where did that get her?
Destroyed, I whisper.
Exactly. So we build someone new. Someone smarter. Harder. Someone who trusts no one and uses everyone. Marguerite pulls out a mirror and makes me look at my reflection. What do you see?
Blonde hair. Blue eyes. A scared girl.
I see a blank canvas. She studies my face. First, we change your appearance. Hair, eyes, mannerisms. Then we create a new identity complete background, history, accent. You'll become someone from a foreign country. Wealthy. Mysterious. Untouchable.
How long will that take?
Two years.
I stare at her. Two years?
Revenge isn't fast food, child. It's a gourmet meal that takes time to prepare. She smiles. But first, I have news that will speed things up. Your mother left you money.
My heart skips. My mother? She died when I was ten.
I know. But before she died, she created a secret bank account in your name. Money your father and stepmother never found. A lot of money.
How much?
Fifty thousand gold crowns.
I can't breathe. That's a fortune. Enough to live on for decades. Enough to...
Enough to fund your revenge, Marguerite says, reading my thoughts. Your mother knew your father was marrying a viper. She wanted you to have resources if you ever needed them. She made me the account guardian. I've been waiting for you to need it.
Tears blur my vision. Mother knew? She tried to protect me?
She did. And now we'll use her gift to destroy everyone who hurt you. Marguerite stands. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, your training begins.
Six months pass.
Every day, I wake before dawn and train. Marguerite is a harsh teacher but brilliant.
She teaches me accents I can now speak like I'm from five different countries. My favorite is Valdorian, a small distant kingdom. The accent is sophisticated and mysterious.
She teaches me to read people's faces. How to spot lies. How to manipulate conversations. How to make people trust me or fear me depending on what I need.
She teaches me poisons which plants kill fast, which kill slow, which just make people sick enough to be useful.
She teaches me combat. I'm not strong enough to fight men with swords, but I can use knives. I can run fast. I can hide. I can survive.
And she teaches me makeup how to use powder and paint to change the shape of my face. How to make my eyes look different. How to become someone else.
On the six-month anniversary of my death, Marguerite brings out special dye made from rare plants.
Your hair, she says. It's too recognizable. We change it today.
The dye stinks and burns my scalp. But when Marguerite washes it out hours later, I stare at the mirror in shock.
My golden blonde hair is now deep chestnut brown.
Good, Marguerite says. Now the eyes.
She shows me small violet-tinted lenses made from rare minerals. They're new technology, very expensive, only for the wealthy. Marguerite used my mother's money to buy them.
I put them in carefully. They feel strange at first. Then I look in the mirror.
A stranger stare back. Brown hair. Violet eyes. Same face, but somehow completely different.
Lady Seraphina had blonde hair and blue eyes, Marguerite says. This woman has brown hair and violet eyes. They'll never connect you.
I practice my new voice, my Valdorian accent. My name is Evangeline Sinclair. I am a widow from Valdoria.
Even to my own ears, I sound foreign. Sophisticated. Nothing like the scared nineteen-year-old who scrubbed convent floors.
Marguerite nods with approval. Good. But you need more practice. Six more months of training, then we test your new identity.
Twelve months after my escape, Marguerite takes me to a nearby town.
Blend in, she orders. Talk to people. Use your Evangeline identity. If anyone recognizes you as Seraphina, we've failed.
I wear expensive clothes bought with Mother's money. My brown hair is styled elegantly. My violet eyes are hidden behind a delicate veil. I speak with my Valdorian accent.
I spend the day at the market, talking to merchants. Buying things. Acting like a wealthy widow.
No one recognizes me. No one even looks twice.
I return to the cottage triumphant. They believed it! They thought I was really Evangeline!
Good. Marguerite pours wine to celebrate. But that was easy. Merchants don't know Lady Seraphina. The real test will be court. Walking into the palace. Standing in front of people who knew you. Your father. Your stepsister. Even
The Crown Prince, I finish. My chest tightens. Alexander's face flashes through my mind. What if he recognizes me?
He won't. Men see what they expect to see. He expects Seraphina to be dead. So even if Evangeline looks similar, his brain won't make the connection. She refills my glass. Besides, we'll test it first. There's a noble gathering in the capital next month. Minor nobles, no one important. We'll go together. If anyone recognizes you, we abort and try again.
And if no one recognizes me?
Then we move to phase two. Getting you presented at court. Creating your wealthy widow backstory. And... She pauses dramatically. Seducing the Crown Prince.
The wine turns sour in my mouth. Seduce Alexander?
He's the key to everything. Marry him, become queen, and you'll have the power to destroy everyone who destroyed you. Your father, your stepsister, Julian, Helena all of them will be under your control.
But I don't want to marry him. He abandoned me when I needed him most.
Marguerite's eyes gleam. Exactly. So you'll make him fall in love with you, then break his heart the way he broke yours. Perfect revenge.
I imagine Alexander on his knees, begging for my love while I laugh in his face. The image should feel good. Satisfying.
But something twists in my chest. Something that feels almost like guilt.
I push it away. When do we start?
One year from now. You need more training. More polish. And
A knock at the cottage door freezes us both.
No one knows about this cottage. No one should be here.
Marguerite grabs her sword. I grab a knife. We move silently to the door.
The knock comes again. Three times. Urgent.
Who is it? Marguerite calls.
A friend, says a young male voice. I have news about Prince Marcus.
Marcus. Alexander's brother.
I remember him from court young, kind-faced, always smiling. What does he have to do with anything?
Marguerite opens the door carefully, sword ready.
A boy of maybe seventeen stands there. He wears a servant's clothes but has intelligent eyes. He looks at me and his mouth falls open.
Lady Seraphina? You're alive?
My knife is at his throat in seconds. Who are you? How did you find us?
My name is Thomas. I was Prince Marcus's personal servant. His eyes fill with tears. I came because... because Prince Marcus is dead. And his last words were about you.
The world spins. What?
Six months ago, Prince Marcus was investigating your case. Trying to prove you were innocent. He discovered something evidence that you were framed. But before he could tell anyone... Thomas's voice breaks. He was ambushed. Killed. I barely escaped.
Who killed him? Marguerite demands.
I don't know. But before he died, Prince Marcus gave me a sealed letter. He made me swear to find you and deliver it. Thomas pulls out a blood-stained envelope. He said it contains the names of everyone involved in destroying you. And he said... he said his brother the Crown Prince was trying to help, but was being blackmailed.
My hands shake as I take the letter. Marcus is dead. A sixteen-year-old boy died trying to prove I was innocent.
And Alexander... was being blackmailed?
I break the seal and open the letter.
Inside is a list of names:
- Violet Ashford
- Julian Blackwell
- Helena Montclair
- Duke Ashford
But at the bottom, in shaky handwriting, is one more thing:
Seraphina if you're reading this, I'm probably dead. But you need to know: my brother Alexander tried to help you that night. Father threatened to kill me if Alexander spoke. So he stayed silent to save my life. Don't hate him. He's drowning in guilt. And now I'm dead anyway, so his sacrifice meant nothing. Please, find the truth. Make them all pay. But save Alexander if you can. He's one of the good ones. Marcus
The letter falls from my hands.
Alexander didn't abandon me by choice. He was protecting his brother.
And now that brother is dead.
Protecting him meant nothing in the end.