Chapter 168: Solving the right problem??

Seraphine POV

The words hit me like a slap: “The executions started.” Agora’s voice still echoed in my mind long after he spoke.

For a few seconds, I couldn’t breathe or think or move. The room closed in, too hot, airless. My eyes stayed locked on the letter in his hand. Executions. Not threats, not rumors... just brutal fact. People were dying. Because of Kael. Because they knew too much. Because I existed.

The guilt crashed into me, quick and sharp, like something was wedged under my ribs.

“Who?” My voice barely made it out.

Agora looked down at the parchment. His jaw clenched.

“Several rebel leaders.”

I shut my eyes. Faces flashed through my mind... the old healer, the servant who’d slipped me a note, the woman who pressed Selene’s token into my palm, the rebels who helped us escape. People who believed in me. People who called me princess.

My stomach twisted so hard I thought it might turn inside out. “How many?”

His silence answered before he did. Too many. Way too many.

I turned away. I couldn’t look at him... the letter, the fire, anything. Everything was too bright, too quiet. The guilt just swallowed me whole. Those people were suffering and I was safe. I hated myself for that... absolutely hated it.

The next day, the reports started trickling in. Then they didn’t stop. Wildfire reports, rebel reports, information from spies, gossip from merchants... everything anyone learned found its way to me.

At first, Agora tried to keep them from me. That lasted maybe a day. Mostly because I stole them, over and over. He wasn’t happy. I didn’t care.

By the week’s end, my chambers overflowed with documents. Stacks of reports everywhere... bed, desk, floor, you name it. Each was like a thread of Wildfire winding its way to me, another cut, another reminder. Kael’s arrests picked up speed. Entire families vanished overnight. Villages drowned in propaganda... question him, and you were branded a traitor, a foreign sympathizer, an enemy. The truth disappeared. People believed the lies. Fear always won. Fear was simpler, safer.

I hated it. Even so, I understood... once, I’d done the same. Kept my head down, focused on surviving, never asked questions. Now others were doing that, and still paying the price.

The thought haunted me. Days slipped by. Sleep got harder. Food faded into the background. My thoughts stayed stuck in Wildfire, with the people I had left behind waiting, hurting, hoping. I hated that too... the hope. Someone was bound to be disappointed, and I wasn’t sure I deserved anyone’s hope.

A week later, I watched dawn bleed into the sky, not tired, just wired. The palace slept, everyone sensible nestled in bed. I wasn’t one of them. Instead, I was cross-legged in chaos, my bed and desk smothered in papers: reports, letters, maps, notes. I kept reading, desperate to spot a solution, a pattern, something that might help.

I didn’t hear the door open at first... not until a familiar voice cut through. “Have you slept at all?”

I went still and raised my eyes. Agora stood in the in the doorway.

Fresh clothes, hair still damp. Wide awake. Annoyed, too, that's obvious. His eyes skim the room first, then the mess of papers, and finally, they land on me. The silence after that... sharp, heavy. Dangerous.

I duck my head, stare hard at the report like I'm reading, like I'm not nervous. Useless tactic. He doesn't buy it for a second.

A few more heartbeats and I see his boots stop right in front of me. Great. I give up and sigh.

"You weren't supposed to find these."

"That would have been difficult," he shoots back, and honestly, he’s right. I’m practically drowning in enough documents to fill a small library.

He watches me. He doesn’t look mad. Just worried, which is somehow worse.

"What are you doing?"

I don’t answer right away, just keep looking at the same line in the file. Fourth time reading it, still don’t know what it says. Eventually, I mumble, "Trying to help." The truth slips out before I can stop it... raw, embarrassing.

He doesn’t say anything at first. The quiet thickens. I glance up and spot something different in his face. He’s put something together.

He kneels down next to me, careful, gentle. Then he asks, quiet enough I barely catch it, "When did it stop being about you?"

I blink. "What?"

His eyes don’t flinch. "When did Wildfire stop being your past and start being your responsibility?"

It knocks the air from my chest. I don’t have a real answer. Not really. Somewhere in the blur... the rebels, the letters, the people sentenced to die... something in me shifted. I stopped combing through these reports for my own answers. I started looking for how I could help the next person.

That hits me. Agora’s right. At some point, surviving stopped being the thing that mattered most. I started thinking about everyone behind me... watching, waiting, counting on me.

It’s terrifying. It’s also right.

Things change after that. Training is less about fighting, more about everything else... leadership, politics, how to steer a disaster without sinking the whole ship. Agora, apparently, thinks half-awake Seraphine could use more stress in her life. Thanks for that.

We’re in a council chamber today. Maps all over the table, files on every shelf, a massive strategy board ready and waiting. I'm slumped in my chair, halfheartedly turning pages about trade routes and supply chains. Trying to fight off sleep. Losing that battle, big time.

Naturally, Agora clocks it in two seconds.

"Focus," he says, flat but teasing.

I glare. "I am focused."

"You just read the same paragraph three times," he points out. Betrayed by my own eyeballs. I hate how he notices everything. Mostly because he’s always right.

He circles the table, explaining all the headaches that come with politics... petty noble squabbles, fragile alliances, trade deals that barely make sense. It goes right through me.

Then, without warning, he’s behind my chair, leaning in too close, pointing at something in the pile. His arm brushes against mine and my head empties, heart thudding loud enough for both of us to hear. Annoying. Distracting.

I try to look busy. Try not to act like I notice. He stays completely unbothered, voice smooth and calm and maddening.

"This merchant guild controls three supply routes," he says.

I nod, way too fast.

He pauses.

He noticed, of course. He always did. The man picked up on everything... even things he shouldn’t. There was a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“…Mostly.”

He chuckled, low and warm.

My face burned. Traitor. My face was a traitor, my heartbeat was a traitor, honestly, all of me was betraying me.

He leaned in, pretending to read the document, but we both knew he was just getting closer. Our shoulders brushed. Suddenly, I couldn’t hear a single word. Which, considering he hadn’t stopped teaching, was kind of impressive.

“Seraphine.”

I blinked fast. “What?”

Now his eyes were definitely amused. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

My cheeks lit up. I glared at him. I hated this. I really did.

His smile just grew. Of course it did. And that made everything worse.

Finally, thankfully, he moved back to his side of the table. Air returned to my lungs. Honestly, it was a good choice for both of us. He kept teaching. I tried to remember how to function.

By late afternoon, advisers started trickling in for a meeting. The air immediately felt tight, buzzing with tension. I guessed this argument had been running for weeks, maybe even months. Trade routes, supplies, border resources... they spat out problem after problem, all more complicated than the last. Politics. My absolute least favorite thing.

The advisers argued around and around. No one gave in. No one solved anything. Hours dragged by. My head pounded.

One adviser pushed for redirection of resources. Someone else flat-out refused. A third managed to disagree with both, which was a real feat. The frustration in the room grew thicker and thicker.

Then, right when I thought my brain might explode, I spotted it... a pattern hidden in the mess. A simple answer no one else was seeing.

I hesitated. These people had experience, power, importance. And I was just… me.

But the idea wouldn’t leave me alone. So, I raised my hand, kind of half-hoping no one would notice.

Silence fell. Heads turned. Surprise, confusion, even a little offense. Agora watched, waiting.

I swallowed and pointed to the map. “What if you’re all solving the wrong problem?”

Complete silence. They stared. Awesome. No pressure.

I started explaining. Slow, careful. Showed the supply lines, trade schedules, storage mess. The solution unfolded as I spoke.

By the end, nobody spoke. They just… thought. An adviser grabbed a report. Another checked the map. Someone started scribbling numbers.

Finally, the oldest adviser looked up, eyes wide. “That would work.”

I blinked. “What?”

Others nodded. One, then another, then more. Suddenly people were talking again, but it sounded different. They were agreeing, not arguing. The problem was just... solved. Like that.

It hit me in waves... first slow, then all at once. Across the table, Agora stared at me. He didn’t look surprised or confused. He looked proud.

My chest tightened. His approval mattered, more than I wanted to admit.

As the room buzzed with plans and relief, something settled deep inside me: For the first time, I wasn’t just struggling to keep up. I was actually helping. And helping others survive, too.