The Girl Beside the Throne
Seraphine Duvall disliked losing control of a room.
She concealed it well.
At the academy’s formal supper, she sat beside Cassian as though nothing had changed. Her braid was threaded with silver. Her dress matched the northern pack colors closely enough to suggest an understanding without claiming one.
Across the hall, Aurelia sat between Nia and Azalea. For the supper, the sisters had dressed in colors chosen together: burgundy silk for Aurelia, midnight blue for Azalea. Their deep brown skin glowed in the candlelight. Earlier, Azalea had sat on the floor between Aurelia’s knees while she pinned her curls into a low arrangement; afterward, Azalea had gathered Aurelia’s twists away from her face and fastened them with their grandmother’s gold comb. It had been the easiest part of the evening.
Theo occupied the chair on Azalea’s other side.
Cassian had asked whether the empty seat opposite Aurelia was taken.
Nia had placed her handbag on it.
“Yes.”
He had not argued.
Aurelia appreciated that more than she wanted to.
* * *
The supper had been organized to welcome royal and council visitors.
Her father sat at the high table.
When he saw Aurelia enter, he stood halfway.
Then stopped, perhaps remembering the room was watching.
She inclined her head.
It was all she could manage.
A seat had been reserved for her beside Azalea near the dais.
Her name was written correctly.
She hated that this small thing mattered.
Seraphine approached before the first course.
“Aurelia. You look lovely.”
“Thank you.”
“I wanted to apologize for the confusion during the assessment.”
“What confusion?”
“The ring. I thought—”
“That I was cheating.”
Seraphine’s smile held.
“That the result required verification.”
“Then we agree on the facts.”
Beside her, Nia studied a bread roll with extraordinary concentration.
Seraphine’s gaze shifted to Azalea.
“I hope you’re recovering.”
“I am.”
“How fortunate your sister was nearby.”
Azalea’s expression cooled.
“Yes.”
Seraphine turned back to Aurelia.
“Deputy Provost Orlan was impressed. He’s very interested in unusual talent.”
Aurelia felt her stomach tighten.
“Did he tell you that?”
“He supervises my advanced wardcraft placement.”
There it was.
Offered casually.
A connection Aurelia had not needed to ask for.
Seraphine’s eyes moved toward Cassian.
“He’s helped many students find suitable opportunities.”
Then she smiled and returned to her table.
Nia set down the roll.
“I dislike that entire conversation.”
“Good,” Azalea said. “I was worried I was being uncharitable.”
* * *
Cassian approached later.
The orchestra had begun playing, and students were moving toward the open floor. A violin carried the melody while piano and brushed drums softened the old court measure into something warmer. Aurelia recognized the pianist’s turn of phrase from the jazz recordings her grandfather played on Saturday evenings. For a moment she imagined dancing because she wanted to, with no one watching to decide what it meant.
“Would you dance?”
Aurelia looked up.
“No.”
He accepted it with a nod.
Then Seraphine appeared beside him.
“There you are.”
Her hand closed around his arm.
Aurelia rose.
“I’m going outside.”
Cassian stepped back to let her pass.
Seraphine’s grip tightened.
For the first time, Aurelia saw him remove her hand.
Gently.
Clearly.
She did not stay to hear what followed.
* * *
The terrace smelled of wet roses.
Aurelia leaned against the stone railing and let the cold air clear her head.
Behind her, the doors opened.
Her father stepped outside.
“May I?”
She gestured toward the empty space.
He stood several feet away.
Inside, the music softened as the door closed.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then he said, “Your grandmother told me you learned to heal a damaged heart before you were fifteen.”
Aurelia looked at the gardens.
“Under supervision.”
“She said you refused to leave the patient.”
“He was frightened.”
Her father nodded.
“I would have liked to know that child.”
The words hurt unexpectedly.
“She was there.”
He bowed his head.
“Yes.”
Aurelia wrapped her arms around herself.
The King removed his coat.
He hesitated.
“May I?”
After a moment, she nodded.
He settled it around her shoulders, taking care not to catch the gold comb in her hair.
“Your grandmother’s?”
“Yes.”
“I remember her wearing it.”
Aurelia touched the teeth of the comb through her twists. A memory they could share, although she had to reach back beyond herself to find it.
The coat smelled of cedar cupboards and the faint smoke of formal council fires.
She did not remember the scent.
That nearly made her cry.
* * *
Inside, Cassian faced Seraphine.
“You knew Orlan had concerns about that basin.”
“Everyone in advanced wardcraft knew.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because it had been handled.”
“It wasn’t.”
She looked toward the terrace doors.
“You’re letting her make you suspicious of people you’ve known for years.”
“She hasn’t asked me to believe anything.”
Seraphine’s expression hardened.
“Then why are you chasing her?”
The question landed.
Cassian looked away.
Because he had hurt her.
Because the bond would not quiet.
Because he was beginning to recognize how easily he had mistaken approval for judgment.
None of those answers made him proud.
“I’m trying to become someone who wouldn’t have done what I did.”
Seraphine stared.
Then she laughed softly.
“And you think she’ll reward you?”
He looked back.
“No.”
It was the first honest answer he had given himself.