The letter had been short.
Not because she didn't have more to say—Seraphina could have written pages. But brevity was safer. Less to be questioned. Less to be intercepted. And so, with trembling fingers and the firelight flickering beside her, she'd sent it: a request to meet.
With the fourth prince.
Kaeven.
She had waited all day. Waited through morning prayers, the midday chants, the evening washings. Her hands had fidgeted during her silent hours, and she had found herself staring far too long at the carved frame of her window, as if his arrival might drift through it like sunlight.
It wasn't Kaeven who came first.
Omel entered her chambers unannounced.
"You're being reckless," he said, the moment the door closed behind him.
Seraphina didn't rise. She only looked up from her seat near the hearth.
"He replied?" she asked quietly.
Omel scowled. "Word spreads quickly when a prince visits the temple. There are rumors already."
She exhaled, steadying her voice. "Let them talk."
"Do you understand what they're saying, Seraphina?" Omel's tone was sharper than usual. "They believe the fourth prince is trying to gain power over the temple. That he's manipulating you, trying to bring you under the control of the royal family."
She met his gaze evenly. "Then they think too highly of him."
"You are the Saintess," he said coldly. "You are not meant to consort with power-hungry princes, no matter how charming they may seem."
Seraphina stood.
"You won't stop me."
Omel stepped forward. "You are the temple's light—"
"And yet you let me kneel in darkness," she said, her voice rising. "I've asked for guidance. I've asked for access. And every door I knock on remains shut. So yes, I sent for Prince Kaeven. Because you won't help me."
His mouth tightened. "This will hurt the temple."
"Then the temple should have done more."
He stared at her for a long moment. "If this continues, I will have no choice but to bring it before the Circle."
"Then do it," she said. "But I will speak to him."
Kaeven arrived not long after. No guards. No fanfare. Just him, with a half-grin and arms full of things.
He dumped them onto the low table of her chamber.
"What is all this?" she asked, eyeing the colorful boxes.
"Gifts. For the woman I'm not supposed to see."
She lifted the lid of the first—jewelry. Fine gold. Dainty rings. Delicate chains.
"I can't wear these," she murmured.
"You can hide them under your robes," he said with a wink. "No one has to know."
The second box—cakes. Sweets she had never tried. The third—cookies shaped like birds and moons. The last—books.
She opened one, and color rose to her cheeks.
"These are… novels." One she caught Lina was reading and Naia have punished her much for it.
"Yes."
"These are not proper."
"Also yes."
She slapped the book closed. "You brought filth to a saintess."
"You're welcome."
"Take them back." She looked sharply at him.
"We'll see."
She swallowed her frustration. She needed his cooperation, no matter how much he rattled her.
"I asked you here because I need something," she said.
"You're so romantic," Kaeven replied, stretching out lazily on the cushion.
"There are scrolls," she pressed. "Old records. Lost texts. The temple believes the royal family might have them. Hidden."
Kaeven's expression shifted. He didn't answer. Not at first.
He took one of the cakes and handed it to her.
"Eat."
"I'm not eating anything you—"
She bit into it. Her eyes widened.
"What… is this?"
He smirked. "Told you you'd like it. You'll like the books too."
She sat down on the chair opposite to him.
"I might be able to get that." He bit into the cake. "But I need something in exchange."
She looked at him cautiously. "And what is it?"
"I want to see your face."
She rolled her eyes. "I wear the veil not for myself," she muttered, licking a smear of cream from her finger. "I wear it for others. When people see me, it's too much."
Kaeven leaned in, suddenly serious. "You think you're too much?"
"They faint. They cry. They shake."
"Sounds exhausting."
She stared at him.
"You want the scrolls," he said. "I might know a way. But it won't be easy."
She nodded. "I didn't think it would be."
He leaned back, stretching his long legs.
"But I'll do it… if I get a kiss."
Her breath caught. "What? That's even worst than just looking at my face."
He shrugged. "Just one." He smirked at her.
She stared at him, utterly stunned. No one—no one—had ever spoken to her like that. No one had ever joked like that. Demanded like that. Played like that. She barely spoke to anyone beyond Omel, her handmaidens, and the desperate faithful who knelt at her feet.
But Kaeven looked at her like she was just a girl.
And that was somehow worse.
She swallowed. Her face burned beneath the veil.
He only grinned.
"Think about it. You want your scrolls—something sacred, hidden, nearly impossible to access. Do you even know how many locked doors, old secrets, and political strings I'd have to pull just to get close to them? I, on the other hand… I want a little mischief. A small spark in all this holy quiet. Seems fair to me."
She had no idea what to say.
And that terrified her more than anything.
She almost whispered, "Lower your voice… Do you know what they'll do to you if they heard you?"
Kaeven smirked. "A kiss from a saintess would be worth it. Or better yet—a date."
"A… date?" she echoed, clearly baffled.
"You could come visit the palace for tea. That counts, doesn't it?"
She blinked, lips slightly parted. The thought shouldn't tempt her. It shouldn't even make sense. But Omel had already warned her to stay away from Kaeven. And still… she found herself considering it.
Kaeven sense the shift in her expression. "I'll make the queen send an invite," he said smoothly. "With the royal seal, the temple will have no choice."
She looked at him, carefully composed. Then, slowly, she nodded.
"Send me the invitation when you have the scrolls," she said softly.
Kaeven's grin widened, a glint flashing in his eyes like he'd just won a wager only he knew they were playing.
"I will," he said. "Gladly."
There was something in his voice that made her pause—like she had just stepped onto the stage of a play she didn't know she was in. But there was no turning back now.
And there was no other way.