The note came wrapped in silk.
No name. No seal. Just a whisper of perfume I recognized.
Serina's scent.
Lavender and sharpened sugar.
"The duchess is invited to a private viewing of the royal atelier's latest gowns. By request of the Empress herself."
How polite.
How precise.
How perfectly timed.
"Trap," Cladus said flatly, reading over my shoulder.
"Of course," I replied, folding the letter neatly. "But what kind of hostess would I be if I refused?"
---
The Empress didn't come.
Of course she didn't.
Instead, Serina stood in a room full of court seamstresses and poisoned compliments.
"Elara," she said with wide eyes. "I didn't expect you to arrive so promptly."
"The Empress requested me."
"Did she?" Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "How strange. She told me it was your idea."
"Miscommunication, I'm sure."
"Yes," Serina said. "Like calling yourself a duchess when the title hasn't yet been restored."
---
She motioned to a gown draped in icy blue silk.
"This was meant for the next royal consort. But I wonder… would it suit you instead?"
She stepped aside.
I stepped closer.
And that's when I saw it.
The embroidery.
Lilies.
Elara's death flower. Sewn in silver along the hem.
My fingers hovered above the fabric.
"You had it made before the execution, didn't you?" I whispered.
"It's just a gown," she replied sweetly.
"No. It's a shroud."
---
The room froze.
Needles paused. Breath caught. Even the air seemed to still.
"Do you really think Auren will choose you?" I asked softly.
"He already has."
"Then why are you so afraid of me?"
Serina's smile cracked—just slightly.
"Because," she said, stepping close enough to feel her breath, "I know how stories like yours end. Tragic women. Heroic deaths. And forgotten graves."
"So do I," I whispered. "Which is why I'm rewriting it."
---
That night, Cladus waited outside my chamber with two guards.
Not his usual place.
"She tried to rattle you," he said quietly.
"She almost succeeded."
He didn't ask for details. But his hand brushed the hilt of his blade.
"I won't let her touch you."
"You can't stop a war with steel, Cladus."
"Then I'll use fire."
The room emptied slowly, like breath leaving a body.
Serina's gown swept past the threshold with barely a rustle, but the scent of lilies remained.
I stood alone among threads and shadows.
The embroidery glinted in the candlelight — silver lilies, twisted delicately along the hem. Stitched too perfectly. Planned too early.
A shroud.
She'd made it before I died.
My fingers trembled as I reached for the edge of the table. I didn't fall. But I wanted to.
"My lady?" Tessa's voice came gently behind me. "Shall I fetch your tea?"
"No," I said.
"Shall I—"
"Leave me."
The door clicked shut. Silence wrapped around me like an old memory.
"You already knew," I murmured aloud to no one. "And I let you smile while I burned."
I sank to the chair.
My hands still shook.
I pressed my palms together. It didn't help.
And then…
I closed my eyes.
Meanwhile somewhere in the Empress's private chambers—
Serina knelt at her mother's feet.
"She's not breaking," she whispered.
"Then push harder," the Empress replied. "Push until she shatters."