22. Seraphina
22
SERAPHINA
L artina is a viper dressed in silk.
Beautiful. Deadly. Coiled in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
And if I don’t find a way to strike first, she’ll sink her fangs into Rylan and bleed him dry.
That thought burns through me as I slip through the lower halls of the Midnight Den, my breath controlled, my steps light.
Rylan may doubt me, but I know my instincts.
And my instincts tell me that Lartina is the real enemy.
If I can prove it, if I can uncover something that shatters her hold over him, then maybe—just maybe—I can save him before it’s too late.
Or maybe I’m just trying to save myself.
___
I know Rylan’s world well enough to understand power is only real if no one sees it slipping through your fingers.
And Lartina?
She’s been pulling the strings for far too long.
I press myself against the cool stone wall outside one of the inner chambers, my heart steady, my ears sharp.
Lartina is inside.
Talking.
Scheming.
I catch snippets of the conversation, my body tensing as the words slither through the heavy wooden door.
"He doesn’t trust me yet, but he will."
A pause.
A low chuckle.
"And then we’ll take everything from him."
My nails dig into my palm.
I knew it.
She’s playing him.
Using his doubts, his weaknesses—using me.
A rustling sound—paper shifting, documents exchanged.
I need to see what she’s giving them.
I move instinctively, slipping through a narrow corridor that leads to a side entrance. It’s a gamble—a single mistake, and I’ll be the one caught in the trap.
But I’ve played this game before.
I’ve survived worse.
The door is slightly ajar, left careless by whoever delivered the documents.
I slip inside, silent as a breath.
Lartina stands near the desk, dressed in black silks that cling to her like a whisper of temptation and poison. Her long, raven-dark hair is pinned up with jeweled combs, her red eyes gleaming in the low light.
And in her hands?—
A letter. She folds it neatly, carefully as if it’s very important. It must be when I see that it’s for Nhilian but she’s taking it away.
She moves to tuck the letter away, but before she can, I step forward.
“Stealing from your allies now?” I ask.
Her head snaps up.
For a brief moment, something flickers in her gaze—shock, calculation, something sharp and deadly.
She smiles.
Like she was expecting me all along.
I don’t move, don’t let my expression falter, even as she glides toward me, the scent of expensive perfume curling around her like a veil of deceit.
“My, my,” she purrs. “The little human thinks she’s clever.”
I don’t blink. “Not clever. Just not blind.”
She laughs, soft and musical, like I’ve just told her the most amusing thing in the world.
Faster than I expect, she closes the distance.
Her fingers trace along my shoulder, trailing over my collarbone—a mockery of affection.
I fight the instinct to flinch.
She’s testing me.
Looking for weakness.
I won’t give it to her.
“I can see why he’s distracted,” she murmurs, her voice like honey laced with venom. “You have a certain… appeal. Rough. Unpolished. But appeal nonetheless.”
I hold my ground.
“I didn’t come here to play games, Lartina.”
She tilts her head. “No? Then why are you here, little thief?”
My jaw tightens.
I let my gaze flick to the desk, where the letter from Nhilian still rests.
Her smile widens.
“Ah,” she sighs. “You’re looking for proof, aren’t you?”
I say nothing.
I don’t need to.
She steps away, her expression shifting from amusement to something colder.
Something like pity.
“Rylan won’t believe you,” she says smoothly. “He’s already drowning in doubt. And by the time you try to pull him out, I’ll have convinced him you were the one holding him under.”
A sharp twist in my chest.
I already knew she was playing a dangerous game.
But now, I realize—I may have already lost.
I exhale slowly. “You’re awfully confident for someone whose lies are about to unravel.”
She lifts a delicate brow. “Lies?”
Her mask slips.
Just for a second.
But it’s enough.
I step toward the desk, fingers curling around a letter. I grab it from the table before she notices.
“You shouldn’t have left the door open,” I murmur.
Her red eyes darken.
The air shifts.
Then—she laughs.
Long. Soft. Infuriating.
“Oh, little thief,” she whispers. “You really don’t understand, do you?”
Before I can move, before I can react, she closes the distance again, so fast I barely register the movement.
A sharp prick against my throat.
I go still.
Her dagger glints in the low light, pressed just under my chin.
My pulse thuds.
But I don’t move.
Don’t give her the satisfaction.
Her smile is slow. Cruel.
“You think you’ve won something?” she murmurs. “You think Rylan will thank you for this?”
I say nothing.
I don’t need to.
For all her threats, she hasn’t cut me.
She hasn’t silenced me.
She won’t.
She wants me alive.
I let her see it in my eyes.
That she doesn’t scare me.
That I’ve dealt with worse.
That she’s just another monster in a world full of them.
Her jaw tightens.
She steps back, lowering the blade, but not before pressing it lightly against my collarbone—just enough to remind me she could have killed me.
Just enough to remind me that next time, she might.
But I don’t linger.
I turn on my heel, moving toward the door.
I have exactly what I need.
Now, I can finally rip the mask off her pretty, lying face.
No matter how much Rylan doubts me, he won’t be able to ignore the proof in my hands.
I don’t look back as I disappear into the hall.
But I hear her voice behind me, soft, lilting, full of poisoned amusement.
“You’ll regret this, little thief.”
I don’t answer.
She’s wrong.
She’s the one who will regret ever underestimating me.