Sera's POV
The council chamber had erupted into chaos.
Orin had presented false documents. Claims of treason. "Evidence" of her coordination with external forces. But Kael had stood beside her, and somehow, the generals who mattered had held their silence. The vote was inconclusive. An investigation was ordered. She wasn't arrested.
It wasn't victory. But it was survival.
Kael had taken her back to his chambers afterward, his hand never leaving hers. He had made her drink water and eat food and sit before the fire. He had fallen asleep in the chair across from her, exhaustion finally claiming him.
She had watched him sleep for hours, understanding that she had nearly destroyed him. That her presence in his life, no matter how much he loved her, was a weapon Orin could use.
Now, in the gray light of morning, she woke to find something slipped under her door.
A folded map. No note. No explanation.
Sera's heart accelerated as she unfolded it. Palace inner corridors. Guard rotation times marked in tiny, precise handwriting. Supply lines to the eastern wing. Troop positions. Contingency routes. And in the corner, Orin's insignia stamped in red wax.
He was sending her a message.
She spent the entire day analyzing it. She matched the corridors to what she remembered from her runs through the palace. She cross-referenced the guard rotations with Lysa's observations about extra men being assigned. She pulled out the archive files and compared supply movement dates with the map's markings.
By nightfall, the shape of it was clear.
A network. Intricate. Hidden within the palace's very structure. Multiple points of vulnerability. Multiple routes for soldiers to move unseen. Multiple contingencies if one path was discovered.
This wasn't a simple coup. This was a masterpiece of military planning.
Sera studied the map's center—the location where all the routes converged. The Throne Room. But marked not for the normal throne, not for any regular gathering.
Marked for the Founding Ceremony.
The annual public gathering where the Emperor appeared before the people. Where security was traditionally ceremonial, not tactical. Where the most feared man in the empire was most exposed.
Sera's breath caught.
Six weeks. That's what the outline said. Six weeks until the Founding Ceremony. Six weeks until Orin's network moved into position. Six weeks until—
A knock at her door interrupted her spiraling thoughts.
Sera quickly hid the map beneath the archive files. Kael stood in the doorway, and she could see the exhaustion carved into his face. The council session had cost him something.
"The council has ordered a formal investigation," he said quietly. "Into your background. Into your father's debts. Into Castor's network. You're no longer under immediate suspicion, but you're not free either. You're in limbo."
"And you?" Sera asked.
"I've been advised to distance myself from you," Kael said. "To show the empire that your presence doesn't influence my decisions. To prove I'm still the Emperor, not a man in love."
The words hung between them. He had said it before her—that she was a liability to his rule. That his love for her could destroy everything.
"Then we should part," Sera said, even as the words broke something inside her. "We should—"
"No," Kael said. He moved into the room and closed the door behind him. "I won't. I won't sacrifice you to silence them. I won't pretend I don't care to prove I'm strong. That's exactly what Orin wants—for me to become the tyrant that requires no human connection. That requires no love. I won't do it."
He was willing to sacrifice his empire for her. And that willingness terrified her more than any conspiracy could.
"Kael, there's something—" Sera started, but Lysa's voice came from the hallway.
"My lord, I apologize for the interruption," Lysa called. "But I have information you need to hear. About the Founding Ceremony."
Kael opened the door. Lysa rushed in, her eyes bright with urgency and fear.
"The ceremony date," Lysa said breathlessly. "I was listening to the generals discuss scheduling, and they moved it forward. It was supposed to be in six weeks, but the council just voted to move it up."
Sera's stomach dropped.
"How far forward?" she asked, though she already knew what the answer would be.
"One week," Lysa said. "The Founding Ceremony is now scheduled for one week from today."
Orin had given her the map showing his network in perfect position. Sera had assumed she had six weeks to stop him. But the council had just accelerated his timeline. Perhaps Orin had orchestrated the acceleration himself, using the council's desire to clear Sera's name as leverage to push the date forward.
They had seven days. Seven days to understand the full scope of the conspiracy and stop it.
Kael's face had gone very still.
"One week," he repeated. "Seven days."
"There's more," Lysa said, and something in her voice made them both turn to her. "I found something while cleaning in the generals' corridor. A letter. Unsigned. But it was discussing the ceremony and it mentioned—" She paused, clearly struggling with whether to continue.
"What did it mention?" Sera asked.
"You," Lysa said, looking directly at Sera. "It said the ceremony would succeed because you would be at the Emperor's side. It said your presence was integral to the plan. That you would validate Orin's actions in the eyes of the people."
Sera understood suddenly.
She wasn't just a threat to Kael. She was the key to Orin's victory.
If she stood beside Kael at the ceremony, it would look like she was part of the conspiracy. It would look like they were both complicit in whatever happened. Her presence would destroy his credibility with the people. Her tears—genuine tears of fear—would look like proof of manipulation.
But if she didn't stand beside him, it would look like she had been sent to infiltrate the palace, that she had accomplished her mission, that she had turned against the throne. That would destroy his credibility in a different way—it would make him look like a fool, a man who had been manipulated by a woman.
Either way, she lost him.
"The map," Sera said quietly. She pulled it from beneath the archive files and unfolded it for Kael to see. "This was left outside my door this morning. It shows the full scope of Orin's network. And it's all positioned for the ceremony. He's had everything planned since the beginning. Every position. Every contingency. Every route."
Kael studied the map with the intensity of a general reading battlefield tactics.
"This level of detail," he said slowly, "requires help from someone inside the palace. Someone with access to troop movements and ceremony planning. Someone in a position of authority."
He looked up at Sera.
"It's more than just Orin," he said. "There's at least one other general involved. Maybe more."
The realization hit Sera like a physical blow. They weren't just fighting against Orin's conspiracy. They were fighting against multiple generals. Against a coordinated effort from within the military hierarchy itself.
And the ceremony was in seven days.
Kael walked to the window and looked out at the city below. At the empire that was waiting to see if he would fall.
"If the coup succeeds," he said quietly, "the empire will tear itself apart in the fighting that follows. Orin will rule, but his rule will be built on blood. And you—"
He turned back to her.
"You will be blamed for everything. Whether you're at the ceremony or not, you'll be the reason for the empire's fall."
Sera understood what he was saying. She had no winning move. Whatever she chose, she lost.
But Lysa stepped forward suddenly, her face pale.
"There's one more thing," she said. "Something I didn't tell you because I wasn't sure it mattered. But now..."
"What?" Kael demanded.
"I saw someone in the generals' corridor that night," Lysa said. "Someone who shouldn't have been there. Someone I recognized from your household staff. Someone who left that unsigned letter about the ceremony."
She looked at Sera directly.
"It was your father. Your father is part of Orin's conspiracy. And he's already in the palace."
The words fell like stones into still water.
Sera's father. The man who had sold her. The man she thought was imprisoned or exiled. The man she had thought was done with her.
He had walked into the palace and betrayed them all.
And he had only seven days to complete whatever role Orin had given him.