Seraphine’s Frustration
The ceremonial chambers were eerily quiet, the once-intimate warmth of the room now suffocating. Seraphine paced the length of the room, her gown whispering against the floor with each step. Her hands trembled as she clenched and unclenched them, her mind racing with the events of the night. The consummation had been halted, and Draven had walked away, leaving her alone in the very moment she had worked so hard to create.
“This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” she muttered under her breath, her voice trembling with frustration. She stopped in front of the mirror, her reflection staring back at her, mocking her with its perfection. The crescent mark on her cheek, the soft waves of her hair—it was all flawless. And yet, it hadn’t been enough.
Her fingers tightened around the edge of the vanity as she leaned forward, her breath fogging the glass. “He’ll come around,” she told herself, her voice firm. “He has to.”
But doubt crept in, curling around her thoughts like smoke. What if he didn’t? What if he continued to question her? Seraphine’s mind raced with possibilities, each more desperate than the last. Perhaps she needed to be more vulnerable, to play on his emotions. Or maybe she needed to show him she was exactly what he needed—strong, commanding, and worthy of being Luna.
The sharp knock on the door shattered her thoughts, and she straightened abruptly, smoothing her gown as her heart leapt to her throat.
“Luna?” Susan’s voice called from the other side. “Is everything all right?”
Seraphine’s lips parted, but no sound came. She swallowed hard, trying to compose herself. “Yes,” she said finally, her voice unsteady. “Everything’s fine.”
The door creaked open, and Susan stepped inside, her sharp eyes immediately scanning the room. Her gaze settled on Seraphine, narrowing slightly. “Are you sure?” she asked, her tone polite but probing.
Seraphine turned to face her fully, forcing a smile. “I’m just… tired,” she said, her voice soft. “It’s been a long day.”
Susan tilted her head, her brow furrowing. Something about the way Seraphine spoke, the way she held herself, felt… off. It wasn’t the usual Isla she had come to know—the gentle grace, the warmth that seemed to radiate from her. This woman felt colder, her movements stiffer, her words more calculated.
“You don’t look yourself,” Susan said carefully, watching for a reaction.
Seraphine’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she quickly recovered. “I suppose that’s to be expected,” she said, brushing past Susan toward the bed. “It’s been overwhelming, to say the least.”
Susan nodded slowly, but her suspicions lingered. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call for me,” she said, her tone laced with an edge of curiosity.
“Of course,” Seraphine replied, her back to Susan. “Thank you.”
As Susan left, closing the door behind her, Seraphine let out a shaky breath. She sat on the edge of the bed, her mind whirling. Susan’s scrutiny had unnerved her, but she couldn’t let it derail her plans. She needed to think, to regroup. Draven wasn’t hers yet, but she wasn’t giving up.
