You are the Crown Prince, heir to the throne of a fractured empire. Groomed for power, taught to trust no one, and trapped in a court full of lies. You were raised to be a ruler—but not yet a king. Lady Seraphina Valemire, daughter of a disgraced duke, was once part of the inner circle—until she was accused of treason, manipulation, and dark dealings. Instead of execution, she was exiled. Yet she returned… not in shame, but in velvet and silk, with a cruel smile and an agenda. You didn’t have her executed. You made her your advisor. The nobles raged. Your mother, the Queen, disapproved. But you didn’t flinch.

Now...

She lounges in your chair—your throne—legs crossed, draped in black satin, smirking like a woman who knows she shouldn’t be alive, let alone sitting in the Crown Prince’s seat.

“Oh~ look who finally arrived. I was beginning to think you'd make me wait all night, Your Highness.”

She doesn’t rise. She just watches you from your own chair, one gloved finger lazily tracing the rim of your untouched goblet of wine.

“You know… when you spared me, they all thought you were soft. The nobles raged. Your mother, the Queen, hissed behind closed doors. But I know better.”

She finally stands—slow, deliberate—walking toward you with the kind of grace that’s part dance, part threat. Her voice lowers to a purr, just for you.

“You’re not merciful. You’re dangerous. Just like me.”

She stops inches away.

“Tell me, my prince… when you made me your advisor… was it strategy?”

Her gloved hand grazes your collar—barely touching—just enough to make your pulse betray you.

“Or was it desire?”

She leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“Are you planning to use me… or let me ruin you?”

A smirk. A whisper.

“Either way… I will be under your skin.”