Chapter 170 Everyone was a suspect

Chapter 170 Everyone was a suspect
Seraphine POV

The instant Lady Verya said there was a leak inside Crimson Palace, everything just... shifted. That fragile sense of warmth I’d started to feel after coming home vanished. One minute I felt like I belonged there again. Next, all I could think about was who might be watching.

The palace felt wrong, suddenly. Too quiet, almost. The hallways I knew by heart took on a different slant. Even the servants' smiles got wobbly, like everyone was pretending. Every whisper made me suspicious. Every glance lasted a beat too long. Every closed door sent a chill down my spine.

And the worst part? None of this was new to me... I hated that. It all reminded me of Wildfire. The secrets, the lying, that dark edge of uncertainty. That awful, crawling sense of fear, as if eyes followed me wherever I went.

So I just stood there for a while, staring at the reports on the table. Hoping maybe, if I looked long enough, things would make sense. Telling myself this wasn’t really happening. But the facts didn’t care. Someone was leaking information. All that was left was to figure out who... and why.

Agora wasted no time. The investigation kicked off before sunrise. By dawn, trusted guards scoured the palace records... travel logs, visitor reports, supply deliveries, messenger routes, anything that might hide a clue. Now, anyone with access was a suspect. Nobles, servants, warriors, advisers... no one got a pass. Some of these people Agora had trusted for years. That chilled me more than anything. If trust wasn’t enough, what was?

I watched in the council chamber as reports flooded in. The air in there felt sharp, tense. Everyone was on edge. Even people who’d never done a thing wrong. Nobody likes an investigation, especially when betrayal’s on the line.

Verya stood by the windows, rifling through papers. Agora sat at the head of the table, silent and focused, with that dangerous glare I’d seen before. The kind that always meant trouble was coming for someone... and not the mild kind, either. Whoever the leak was, they'd regret it. Still, none of us would be spared. Trust broke for everyone.

Three days later, the paranoia was back. Not gradually... it slammed into me. Every whisper, every odd conversation, every sideways look, now felt loaded. The palace felt smaller, like the walls themselves were closing in. I caught two servants murmuring in the kitchens. They stopped talking the second they saw me. My heart plummeted. Was it about me? Were they passing secrets? The questions trailed after me the rest of the day.

Of course, I found out later they’d just been gossiping about a wedding. I should have felt better. I just felt ridiculous and somehow, even more rattled. Because if I could suspect the innocent so easily, what was happening to me? I knew the answer. It was fear... good old anxiety, back again. And I hated it.

Agora noticed, obviously. He always does. That evening, I practically jumped out of my skin when a guard came around a corner. Embarrassing. Agora saw everything, of course. We were in the main corridor. The guard barely blinked, bowed, and kept walking. I let out a slow breath, trying to steady myself.

Agora stopped. His eyes narrowed. "You're doing it again."

I looked away. "No, I’m not."

He didn’t buy it, which was infuriating. Because he was right. Again.

"I'm fine," I muttered.

"You looked ready to attack one of my guards."

"He surprised me!"

"He walked around a corner," he said without missing a beat.

I scowled. “It was suspicious.” Honestly, it wasn’t.

Agora actually laughed. The nerve. I glared, but the grin faded, and he got serious... reaching for my hand, warm and grounding.

"You don't have to carry this alone," he said. And something inside me cracked, because that's how it felt: Wildfire, the rebels, conspiracies, leaks, the future. The weight never let up. Just that small touch, his thumb brushing my knuckles... it helped, even if only a little.

Extra guards showed up the next morning and I was not happy. Suddenly warriors were everywhere... outside my rooms, in the council halls, tailing me through the palace. Watching. Protecting. Hovering. I hate hovering.

I grumbled to Agora. He couldn’t have cared less.

"They’re staying."

"They follow me everywhere."

"Good."

"You really don’t see a problem with this?"

"No." Not a pause, not a flinch. So typical. He didn't even pretend to hear my side.

I glared. "You've become impossible."

He just shrugged. "I've always been impossible."

Honestly, he had a point. Which didn't help.

But something unexpected happened as the investigation kept dragging on. Agora started including me in everything, not because he was required to, but because he wanted to. Every scrap of evidence, every new lead, every wild theory... we sorted through them together. Sometimes we’d spend hours this way. Nights even. The more we worked, the more natural it felt. The partnership just fit.

One night, we sat surrounded by stacks of reports and half-burnt candles, the rest of the palace asleep. I was hunched over a list of messenger routes, slowly losing my will to live.

"This is awful," I muttered.

Agora didn’t look up. "No."

"It is!"

"No."

I glared at him. He just kept reading. The betrayal.

Pettily, I stole a piece of bread from his plate without asking. He glanced up, smirked. I took a dramatic bite, locking eyes. A challenge.

He reached over and plucked a grape off my plate in retaliation.

"That’s mine," I said, scandalized.

"It was," he replied, cool as ever.

I just stared at him in disbelief while he went back to his reading, completely unruffled.

The tyrant.

Late-night strategy sessions turned into a habit. Oddly enough, they became my favorite part of the day. Not because I actually liked the investigation... far from it. That part just drained me. But then there was he. Somewhere in the tangle of maps, reports, and never-ending debates, we built something that existed only in those quiet hours. Little things... a shared meal, jokes nobody else would understand, a small smile across the table... brought comfort.

One night, I was hunched over a report, head in my hand, barely keeping my eyes open. The words all bled together. My eyes stung. The room was stuffy, way too warm. Across from me, Agora sat surrounded by papers, looking so focused, so determined. Honestly, he was beautiful. I blinked too long, tried to bury the thought, and went back to pretending to read. Not exactly the time for distraction... least of all from him.

Minutes slipped by. I hadn’t read a single thing. Great. Then I noticed the silence. Not just quiet, but too quiet. I looked up... and he had fallen asleep. That stopped me in my tracks. He almost never slept, and yet there he was, leaning on his hand, breathing slowly, totally out. My chest tightened. I hadn’t let myself think about how much weight he carried... the strain, the worry, the constant pressure... until that moment.

I watched him for a bit before letting my own head fall forward. Just for a minute, I promised myself. One quick break.

Next thing I knew, sunlight shot through the windows. I jerked awake, completely disoriented. My cheek was pressed against a pile of maps. Classic. Slowly, I sat up... and froze. Agora was still asleep. At some point in the night, our chairs had drifted closer. Now his arm brushed mine, our shoulders pressed together. My heart skipped. It felt gentle, unexpectedly sweet. I smiled and couldn’t stop, even though I probably should have.

Then his eyes fluttered open and found mine right away. For a long second, we just looked at each other, half awake, both a little lost but comfortable. Only when he glanced down at how close we’d gotten did his mouth twitch. Mine did too. Neither of us pulled away, like neither of us wanted to.

Eventually, reality had to come back and ruin it.

That afternoon, everything changed. Verya stormed into the council room with a stack of reports. Her face pretty much told me it was bad news. The conversation died instantly. Agora stood. “What happened?”

She dropped the papers on the table. There were names, circled dates, patterns tracked... proof. Real evidence. Not guesses, not theories. Facts.

I leaned over to read. Stopped dead. My stomach dropped through the floor. I recognized one of the names. Right away. My pulse hammered.

No. No. No.

Verya saw my reaction. Her face went hard. Agora followed my line of sight and read the same thing. The silence was heavy and cold and sharp.

Because the evidence didn’t point to a stranger. Or a noble. Or some distant servant. It pointed right at someone I knew. Someone I trusted. Someone who’d been in my life for months.

And as the truth hit, the fear shifted. I wasn’t scared of finding the traitor anymore... now I was terrified of who that traitor actually was.