24. Seraphina
24
SERAPHINA
J ealousy is an ugly thing.
It creeps up the spine slow and insidious, twisting into something dark and unshakable.
And right now, it has its claws in me.
Rylan isn’t alone.
Lartina is with him.
I don’t know why my feet led me here, why I turned down the narrow hall where his chambers sit in the quiet of the night.
But now that I’m here, I can’t walk away.
I see them through the high window above the corridor—a narrow pane of glass set into the stone, allowing just enough of the room beyond to be visible.
The door is locked.
I can’t hear them.
But I can see everything.
Lartina moves with effortless grace, a serpent in silk, weaving her way around him.
Rylan stands near the fire, his hands braced against the desk, shoulders tense.
She leans in, her lips close to his ear, whispering something I can’t hear.
Something that makes his jaw tighten.
She touches his chest, fingers trailing down the fabric of his tunic like she owns him.
He doesn’t stop her.
I go rigid.
I don’t know why my breath shakes.
Why my stomach twists at the way she touches him.
It shouldn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter.
I am nothing to him.
A temporary nuisance, a debt to be paid, a pawn in whatever game he’s playing.
But the way she moves, the way she tilts her head like she’s already won?—
It burns.
And I hate it.
I watch as she leans in closer.
Her fingers brush the side of his throat, her lips hovering over his jaw.
My nails dig into my palms.
She’s going to kiss him.
He’s letting her.
Then—sudden movement.
Rylan pulls away.
His face is unreadable, but his body is stiff, rejecting.
Lartina pauses.
Her mask doesn’t slip, but I see the subtle shift in her posture—the quick flicker of surprise before she schools her features into something softer, something calculating.
She reaches for him again.
He catches her wrist mid-air.
And even though I can’t hear his voice, I can see the finality in the way his mouth moves.
This is over.
Lartina doesn’t leave immediately.
She stands there, still, her expression unreadable.
But something in her eyes darkens.
A silent warning.
She says something else—short, sharp.
Then she turns.
Her movements are slower, measured. Too controlled.
She walks toward the door, but just before she reaches it?—
She stops.
Her lips curve into something cold.
And this time, she speaks loud enough for me to hear.
"I hope she’s worth it, Rylan."
The words curl through the chamber, sharp as a blade.
Rylan doesn’t reply.
Lartina slips out of the room.
I don’t move.
My body is still buzzing with something I can’t identify.
I hope she’s worth it.
Who?
Me?
Why would she say that?
Why did Rylan pull away?
Why did he let her touch him in the first place?
The door swings open.
Rylan steps out.
He sees me.
Neither of us move.
His expression is impossible to read, but his gaze locks onto mine.
I swallow hard, my heartbeat too loud in my ears.
I have no idea about what I was going to say.
A lie. A truth.
Something between the two.
But he speaks first.
"You’ve been watching me, little thief."
The accusation shouldn’t make my pulse stutter the way it does.
I force a scoff, lifting my chin. "You flatter yourself."
His smirk is slow. Dangerous.
"Then why are you here?"
I fold my arms over my chest. "I could ask you the same."
A pause.
A silence so sharp it could cut.
Then his smirk deepens.
"Are you jealous?"
The words slam into me, unexpected and unbearable.
I should laugh.
I should scoff and roll my eyes, turn away and end this conversation before it twists into something I can’t control.
Instead, I say nothing.
And his eyes darken.
His fingers tilt my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"You think I want her?" he murmurs.
I don’t blink. Don’t let him see the truth clawing its way up my throat.
"I don’t care what you want," I say, voice flat.
A lie.
A lie.
A lie.
His thumb traces along my jaw, slow, deliberate.
I hate how easily he unravels me.
I hate that the heat of his skin lingers against mine, even though I should push him away.
He exhales sharply.
"I didn’t kiss her," he says, voice lower than before.
I swallow.
"Would you have?"
A flicker of something in his eyes.
A hesitation.
I shove his hand away, stepping back before I can do something stupid.
Before I can let him see how much this has unraveled me.
"Do what you want, Rylan," I murmur. "It doesn’t matter to me."
A shameless, shaking lie.
And from the way his smirk curls, from the way his gaze flickers over me like he’s already picked me apart.
He knows it, too.