Book 1: Chapter 34 - The Master Bard [Part 1]

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"Music is the profound essence of moral law, a divine principle that imbues the universe with its soul. It grants the mind the wings of elevation, the imagination the freedom to soar, and life itself an ineffable charm, filling existence with grace and joyous vitality."

- Attributed to the playwright Vlan di Panoli.

Over the rest of dinner, Seraphina was informed that neither of her parents would accompany her on her journey to the capital. Though they did not explicitly say so, it was clear her mother saw this as a test—her first step into adulthood as a fully independent woman. As for her father, he would defer to whatever Anaselena suggested.

A silly excuse but she would make sure that she would be traveling with a full escort of her father’s best. There was no need to tempt fate after all.

It did not take much thought to understand why King Elidion feared the Duke. The man was a formidable commander and an unrivaled warrior—a rare combination that made victory under his banner almost a certainty. That certainty was amplified by her mother’s aid, who could tip the scales with her ability to peer into the future. Even if the rest of the Lords of the Realm united against the Duke if he raised his banner in rebellion, they would pay a terrible price in blood. Worse still, the other nobles knew such a move would be a near-futile endeavor.

The Duke’s lands, bordering the Empire, were another source of his power and respect. No matter how mighty their legions, the Empire would suffer grievous losses if they dared cross the border and wage war in Aranthia. In essence, the de Sarien family was both the Kingdom’s shield and a knife at the monarchy’s throat.

This was why Elidion had sought Seraphina’s hand for his son. The union would have solidified his power and bolstered the royal line for generations. However, the King seemed to forget that his branch of the royal family was not the only one. Intermarriage among the noble houses was common, and the de Sariens held the second-strongest claim to the throne.

Seraphina smirked at the thought of the King’s panic once word of his son’s failure reached him. She couldn’t help but laugh.

She still remembered Sir Donahan’s words and how Vellens had all but supported him. Those words had stung deeply. Though she had made the Crown Prince pay, she knew she would never truly forgive him for his foolish inaction. Her father’s remark at the dining table had been sharp and true, lingering in her thoughts even now.

Seraphina looked into the mirror of her vanity table as objectively as she could. She saw beauty reflected back at her with all the innocent charm of youth, something that no amount of cosmetic treatment could ever gift. It welled up from something true beauty from within. She was a treasure and a prize.

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So be it, she would sell herself again. Give all of herself until the youthful charm and innocence she saw before was worn down to a thin veneer. And she would extract her own prize. Her Progress to Aran would be an opportunity. She would win the hearts and minds, not only of the nobility, but of the masses.

Every single last one of them would view her as the Goddess herself reborn. She would make it so.

“Miriam!” she called out suddenly as she formed her next plan of action.

Her personal maid scuttled as in quickly as possible.

“Yes, Lady Seraphina!” the monstrous maid squeaked, adjusting her spectacles.

The young girl looked at her maid haughtily with her reflection. “Get me Haze Finleigh…”

Her maid looked to the left and right, worried as she clutched her uniform. “The Bard, milady? At this late hour…” she ask.

She should have known better to than to question her lady’s orders as the look Seraphina gave her was a withering one.

“At once, Lady Seraphina,” she squeaked, rushing off to do her mistress’ bidding.

*****

Seraphina waited, idly nibbling on a late-night snack of dried fruit and cheese to pass the time. A fine, light-bodied white wine accompanied her indulgence, its crisp notes perfectly complementing the flavors of the food. She savored each morsel, drawing out the experience, mindful not to overindulge.

Though her youthful figure remained enviable, she refused to risk bad habits. Discipline was key, after all—no matter how trivial it seemed now. Not that it mattered much; her body, young and ravenous, seemed to devour calories like a black hole. Still, Seraphina preferred to err on the side of caution. Discipline, she mused, was a habit worth cultivating.

After all, discipline had always set her apart from the teeming masses of would-be stars. Discipline—and something rarer still: raw beauty, as sharp and dangerous as a drawn blade, and talent that burned brighter than a comet streaking across the heavens.

“Leave us, Miriam,” Seraphina commanded, her voice sharp as steel.

The maid hesitated, wringing her hands. “Milady—”

“Miriam,” Seraphina repeated, her irritation slicing through the air like a whip.

The maid bowed deeply, her face pale. Without another word, she scurried from the room, unwilling to tempt her mistress’s wrath.

Left alone, Haze Finleigh stood awkwardly, his roguish grin faltering under Seraphina’s withering gaze. “Well, this isn’t the first time I’ve been summoned to a noble lady’s chambers at such an hour…” he quipped, though his bravado rang hollow.

The heir to the Sariens Duchy regarded him like one might a cockroach on an expensive rug. Her cold scrutiny made Finleigh’s bravado crumble; he fidgeted, tugging nervously at the brim of his feathered cap.

Seraphina stepped closer, her movements languid, feline. She stopped so near that Finleigh could feel her breath and catch the faint scent of lavender on her skin.

“Mr. Finleigh,” she drawled, her voice like honey laced with venom. Her finger trailed down his chest, pausing as though to consider something. Then she nodded, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

“Milady…” Finleigh stammered, his voice cracking, unsure whether to step back or hold his ground.

In a flash, Seraphina’s hand darted forward, pressing against the space between his legs.

Finleigh’s breath caught, and he froze.

Seraphina smiled wickedly, withdrawing her hand with a flourish. “That is why you’re allowed into a lady’s chamber so late at night,” she declared.