Chapter 171 Unknown distraction

Chapter 171 Unknown distraction
Seraphine POV

The name on the report wouldn’t leave me alone.

Not because we actually knew they were the traitor. We didn’t. Not really. Not yet. But I knew this person. I’d trusted them. Talked to them. Laughed with them. And now every memory just felt tainted.

The council chamber had been empty for hours. I was still there, hunched over the same damn papers, same names, same dates. I kept going over them, hoping for another explanation, another way out. Anything, really. The alternative just hurt too much.

If I was right, the conspiracy around Selene didn’t die with Wildfire. Its roots had tunneled deeper... right into Crimson, right into all of us. People I thought I knew.

My chest felt hollow. I hated that. Trust wasn’t something I gave easily, not after everything that had happened. Every time I finally let myself believe in someone, they always proved me wrong.

A maid abandoned by people who should’ve cared. Friends who turned their backs when it suited them. Nobles who lied. Alphas who hid things. Kael. Always Kael.

I dropped my head into my hands, exhaustion pressing in from all sides. Maybe trust really was just a mistake. Maybe in the end, everyone betrays someone. Maybe that’s just how the world works.

The thought made my stomach twist.

A gentle knock dragged me out of my thoughts. Before I could answer, the door creaked open and Agora slipped inside. His eyes found me fast... of course. The whole room could’ve caught fire and he’d still notice my mood first.

He glanced at the reports, then at me. Something clicked in his expression. He didn’t say a word. Just walked over and set a plate in front of me. Food. Again.

I blinked. “When did you start fussing over me eating?”

His mouth tugged up, just a little. “When you started forgetting to do it yourself.”

I let out a sigh. He wasn’t wrong, unfortunately.

He sat down beside me... close, but not too close. That familiar comfort settled my nerves a bit. Not entirely, but enough. We sat like that, not saying anything, but the quiet wasn’t awkward. It hadn’t been for a long time. Not since we figured out how to just… exist together. Funny, really, considering I used to be terrified of him.

Eventually, he nodded toward the stack of papers. “You’re still turning this over in your head, aren’t you?”

I tried to laugh, but it came out thin. “Was it really that obvious?”

“You’ve been staring at the same page for twenty minutes.”

God, I hated how much he noticed.

I looked back at the report. “I keep wondering if we’re wrong.”

He tipped his head, thoughtful as always. “Maybe.”

That actually surprised me. I looked his way. “You think so?”

“I think assuming things gets people killed.”

That was classic Agora. Careful. Methodical. Annoyingly right.

My eyes drifted back to the name on the page... it blurred. “But what if we’re not wrong?”

That sentence felt brittle. It was safer, wishing we’d made a mistake.

His expression warmed. Then, out of nowhere: “Would that change what they were before?”

I frowned at him. “What?”

“If they’re guilty,” he said quietly, “does that erase every good thing they did?”

He let that question hang in the air. I hated complicated questions. All I wanted was for things to be simple, black and white. Good and evil. People you could trust, people you couldn’t. But it was never like that. Never with Kael, never with Selene, definitely not with me. People just… weren’t simple.

I slumped. “I don’t know.”

He slid his hand over mine, under the table... warm, steady, real. I just stared at our hands for a second.

“I think I’m starting to hate secrets,” I whispered.

Agora actually laughed, deep and genuine. I shot him a glare. “What’s so funny?”

“You,” he said, grinning. “Our entire relationship started with secrets.”

I almost argued, then shut my mouth. Great. He was right again. He had a way of doing that.

His thumb brushed over my knuckles. God, that was more soothing than I wanted to admit.

Suddenly, the question that had been twisting inside me just fell out. “Do you ever worry?”

He just looked at me. “Worry about what?”

I hesitated, but asked anyway. “That everyone betrays someone.”

He went quiet, thinking. Not frozen... just considering.

Finally: “Every day.”

That stopped me. “What?”

He met my gaze. “Trust isn’t certainty. People act like it is, but it’s not.”

Something eased inside me. He actually understood.

I barely kept the next question from tumoring out, but it escaped anyway. “So why risk it? Why trust anyone, if you know they could break it?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Because it’s a choice,” he said. “Not a guarantee.”

He squeezed my hand, just a little. “Anyone you trust can hurt you. That’s true. Doesn’t make trust worthless, though.”

He looked me dead in the eye, sure and steady as anything. “It makes it brave.”

We fell quiet. For a while, words just didn’t seem enough.

Because no one had ever said it quite like that. Trust wasn’t about guarantees or safety. It was about choosing someone...knowing the risk and doing it anyway.

It was hard, realizing that.

I squeezed his hand back, gently. Words weren’t necessary. Not this time.

Not yet.

He caught my meaning right away. His face softened, and I could tell he got it... the things I couldn’t say out loud. Lately, it almost felt like he knew me better than I knew myself.

The rest of the evening drifted by quietly. No reports to deal with. No advisers barging in every ten minutes. No disasters to fix. Just the two of us, with the fire crackling and the palace slipping into the night. Actual peace. That was rare around here—precious even.

We left the council chamber without a word, wandering off to our own rooms. Honestly, it just happened. Neither of us had to say where we were going—we just moved together like we always seemed to lately.

I tried settling down by the fireplace with a book, but reading got hard with Agora watching me. Again. The menace. I peered over the top of my book.

“There it is,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“That look.”

He blinked at me. “What look?”

I pointed. “The one where you pretend you’re not staring.”

His mouth twitched. He was definitely caught this time. A tiny, hard-earned victory.

He just grinned wider. “I like watching you think.”

And, of course, my cheeks betrayed me. I hid behind my book, refusing to look at him. Absolutely not.

Then the mattress dipped and he sat down next to me, close enough that our shoulders touched. Neither of us moved. His forehead brushed mine... soft, simple, and somehow overwhelming. No rush, no drama this time. Just warmth, comfort. It felt like home.

We stayed like that for a while, breathing together. Sharing quietly. His hand found mine, as if that was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was.

A small smile crept onto my face before I could stop it. I caught him doing the same and, of course, he noticed. He always did.

That peace broke first thing the next morning. A messenger—worn out, covered in road dust... showed up just after sunrise. My stomach twisted as soon as I spotted the rebel markings hiding under his cloak. Wildfire. Again.

He handed a sealed letter straight to Lady Verya. Her face darkened. Agora slipped closer to me.

“So?” he asked, quietly.

Verya started opening extra pages—one, then another, then another. All code sheets and encrypted rebel messages. No one spoke while she translated, line by line. When she finally looked up, her face turned grave.

I asked, “What is it?”

Verya looked at me, then at Agora. I got the answer in that instant. I didn’t need words. Something was truly wrong.

She spoke in a low voice. “The Wildfire rebels are asking for help.”

The silence was thick. Heavy. Everyone knew what that meant. Wildfire wasn’t waiting anymore... they were calling us back. And for the first time since I’d left, going back didn’t seem far away at all.