Chapter 2 The Knife at Midnight

The silver dagger lay between them like a promise of violence. Rain blew sideways through the shattered window, soaking the torn shoulder of Seraphina's green gown, plastering dark strands of hair to her pale cheek. She didn't move towards the knife. Her eyes, wide and bright with panic moments before, now held Lucian's with a desperate intensity.

"You see knives where there are only shields," she rasped, her voice raw above the howling wind. Water dripped from her chin.

Lucian kicked the blade. It skittered across the wet marble floor, stopping near her bare foot. The metal scraped loud in the sudden lull of thunder. "Prove me wrong," he snarled, his own breath coming fast. "Pick it up. Defend yourself. Show me the viper."

Before she could react, a deafening crash echoed from the corridor outside. THUD! THUD! THUD! Heavy fists pounded against the thick wooden door. A guard's voice, shrill with terror, screamed through the wood: "YOUR HIGHNESS! FIRE! THE WEST TOWER'S ABLAZE! IT'S SPREADING FAST!"

Orange light, flickering and angry, pulsed under the doorframe. The sharp, acrid smell of smoke began to seep into the room, mixing with the scent of rain and wet stone.

Seraphina didn't hesitate. She lunged – not for the knife at her feet, but straight for Lucian. Her icy fingers closed like iron manacles around his wrist. The shock of her touch, cold and urgent, sent a jolt through him.

"It's a trap!" she gasped, her face inches from his. Rainwater ran down her temples like tears. Her green eyes burned into his, stripping away the ice, revealing pure, unvarnished fear. "The spy wasn't mine! He was your uncle's! A plant! Duke Cassian sent him! THEY'RE COMING FOR YOU! THE FIRE IS THE DISTRACTION!"

Lucian froze. Duke Cassian. His father's ambitious younger brother. The man who had whispered poison against this marriage from the start. The man who coveted the throne. The boy's dying words – "warning... plot against the Prince..." – slammed back into his mind with brutal force.

He stared at Seraphina. At the genuine terror in her eyes. At the way her hand trembled against his skin. The torn silk of her gown revealed the bruise darkening on her shoulder. She'd brought a knife to protect herself... from WHAT?

Another thunderous crash shook the door, followed by the splintering sound of wood. "PRINCE LUCIAN!" the guard screamed again, pure panic now. "THE FLAMES ARE BLOCKING THE STAIRS!"

The orange light under the door flared brighter. Smoke thickened, stinging Lucian's eyes. Decision time. Trust the enemy bride screaming treason against his own blood? Or die trapped in this room?

He looked down at her hand, still clamped on his wrist. Her knuckles were white. She wasn't letting go.

"Cassian?" Lucian breathed, the name tasting like ash.

"He wants you dead!" Seraphina insisted, her voice cracking. "Tonight! Before the treaty can take hold! He used ME as the scapegoat!"

The pounding on the door became frantic. More voices joined the guard's outside, shouting about the fire spreading, about collapsing beams.

Lucian's soldier instincts, honed on real battlefields, overrode his fury and distrust. Survival first. Questions later. He ripped his wrist from her grasp, but instead of shoving her away, he grabbed her upper arm – carefully avoiding the bruise.

"Stay close," he ordered, his voice cutting through the chaos. "And if you're lying to me, Princess, I'll throw you back into the fire myself."

He spun towards the door, not waiting for a reply. The heavy oak shuddered under another blow. Lucian drew the ceremonial dagger sheathed at his hip – a real weapon, unlike her hidden stiletto. He kicked aside the largest shards of broken glass near the door.

"Stand back!" he roared.

He yanked the heavy iron key from the outside lock, inserted it into the inside, and turned. The lock clicked. He threw the door open.

Chaos erupted.

Thick, choking smoke billowed into the room. The corridor outside was a nightmare scene. Flames licked hungrily at rich tapestries further down the hall, casting monstrous, dancing shadows. Embers floated like deadly fireflies. Guards stumbled, coughing, their faces blackened with soot. The heat was intense, pushing against them like a physical wall.

A young guard, the one who had been pounding, stumbled back, eyes wide with relief and terror. "Your Highness! Thank the Divine! The west wing stairwell is an inferno! We have to go east, to the servants' stairs! Quickly!"

Lucian shoved Seraphina behind him, shielding her from the worst of the smoke and heat with his body. He kept his dagger ready. "Lead the way!" he barked at the guard. "Move!"

They plunged into the smoky corridor. The guard stumbled forward, hacking, pointing towards a narrower passage branching off to the right. Lucian kept Seraphina close, his grip firm on her arm. He could feel her trembling, or maybe it was his own adrenaline. The roar of the fire grew louder behind them. A section of ceiling plaster crashed down nearby, sending up a shower of sparks.

As they neared the turn to the servants' stairs, a figure materialized out of the swirling smoke ahead, blocking their path. Tall, impeccably dressed despite the chaos, a look of false concern plastered on his aristocratic face.

Duke Cassian.

"Lucian! Thank heavens!" Cassian cried, stepping forward, arms outstretched as if to embrace his nephew. His eyes, however, flickered past Lucian, landing on Seraphina with a cold, calculating gleam. "We feared you were trapped! The fire... it started near the Dravens wing, such a tragedy..." His voice oozed false sympathy.

Lucian stopped dead. Seraphina pressed closer behind him, her breath catching. He felt her fingers dig slightly into his back through his uniform jacket. A warning? Fear?

Cassian's gaze lingered on Seraphina. "Princess," he said, his voice dripping with unspoken accusation. "How... fortunate you both escaped." He took another step towards them, his hand subtly moving towards the ornate sword he wore at his hip. "Come, nephew, let me escort you to safety. The King is beside himself with worry."

The heat from the fire pressed in. The smoke stung Lucian's throat. The guard beside him shifted nervously. Seraphina's warning screamed in his mind: They're coming for you!

Lucian tightened his grip on his dagger. He didn't step towards his uncle. He planted his feet, his body subtly shielding Seraphina.

"Safety, Uncle?" Lucian asked, his voice dangerously low, cutting through the roar of the flames. He met Cassian's gaze squarely. "Or a knife in the back amidst the smoke?"