Chapter 5
Cedric froze completely, panic clouding his face as he bent to retrieve the crumpled parchment from the marble floor.
He smoothed it with shaking fingers and squinted at the lines, reading each word slowly, hoping-desperately-for a hidden insult or offense he could not see.
But there was nothing. Nothing… obvious.
The King gave a flick of his fingers, and the royal steward began passing the wrinkled parchment around the assembly.
One by one, the courtiers leaned in to read.
At first, they too wore the same puzzled frown as Cedric.
“It’s actually… rather beautiful,” someone whispered.
“There’s no blasphemy or insult in it at all…”
Seraphina, emboldened by their reactions, lifted her head and bowed low in mock humility.
“Your Majesty, my sister’s accusations are… regrettable,” she said, her voice measured and calm. “But this verse-this is my own. I composed it with care, only to honor Her Majesty’s virtues. I have read over every word. There is nothing
offensive.”
The Queen’s expression darkened. The King’s jaw tightened.
I met Seraphina’s gaze and said coldly, “What Their Majesties want to know… is not what the poem says.”
“They want to know when you wrote it.”
Seraphina gave me a sharp look, annoyed at the interruption. But she quickly turned back to the thrones and bowed her
head.
“Your Majesties, this was written just now. The verse was composed as soon as Your Majesty posed the challenge.”
The Queen’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re certain it was written just now?”
“Completely certain,” Seraphina said with a firm nod.
Then the King gave a bitter laugh and tossed another parchment down from the throne-this one yellowed with age.
It landed at her knees like a blade.
“How very curious,” the King said dryly. “Because that ‘newly written’ poem matches, word for word, a private tribute I. received five years ago-on the day my Queen was crowned.”
“Unless you were the one who sent that gift back then…?”
Seraphina lowered her gaze. Her eyes flicked to the parchment-and her face went utterly still.
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She recognized it.
She knew exactly whose handwriting adorned that old parchment.
She had no words. Her mouth opened, then closed again. Her hands trembled in her lap.
Cedric, standing farther away, hadn’t seen the writing clearly. He mistook her silence for fear.
So he stepped forward-again.
“Your Majesty, poetry often echoes itself. Coincidence is hardly a crime…”
But the King was not swayed.
He never strayed from his Queen. No courtesans. No indulgent affairs.
Cedric, the bastard son of a noble house was the very emblem of what His Majesty loathed.
And he didn’t even bother to hide it.
“Fool,” the King spat.
“You were given a daughter of high birth and rare virtue-yet you cast her aside for a pale imitation.”
He turned, coughing from fury. The Queen rubbed his back gently, then took over with steel in her voice.
“You see, Lord Cedric, this poem might’ve been a coincidence… if it had come from just anyone.”
“But it didn’t. The original gift, Your Majesty, was presented by House Hawthorne.”
“There was no signature-but those of us who know Lady Elena’s hand would recognize it anywhere.”
“We chose not to publish it back then. It was a private offering, bold but beautiful, and so we kept it quietly.”
“Now tell me-who but someone within her household could recall it, line for line?”
The entire court fell into a tense hush.
Even Cedric, slow as he could be, began to understand.
He turned, staring at Seraphina as if he didn’t know her at all.
“You… you stole her verse?”
Seraphina’s face was ashen. But still, she said nothing.
I stepped forward, my voice calm.
“The morning after Lord Cedric came to offer for my hand, I placed that verse among my personal scrolls in the study-on open display, not hidden away.”
“If Seraphina hadn’t crept into my chambers that night, she would never have seen it.”
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“But she did. And she copied it-along with every other piece she thought would help her win today.”
Seraphina finally found her voice.
“Your Majesties, 1-1 must’ve remembered it wrong. I wrote this poem years ago… I never had the chance to present it. Perhaps my sister saw it, and offered it as a tribute without telling me.
She raised her chin, emboldened again by the sound of her own excuses.
“You say I entered your room. Do you have proof?”
Lydia stepped forward without hesitation.
“I do. I was told to guard Lady Elena’s chambers that night. I saw Lady Seraphina and her maid sneak in.”
Seraphina scoffed.
“You’ve served her since you were a child. Of course you’d take her side.”
Before anyone could argue further, Princess Sophia-Duchess of Highmere and the host of the garden fête-stepped out
of the crowd.
“Then allow me to speak.”
