The library at eight in the morning was a mistake.
Seraphina Vale knew this the moment she stepped inside.
Too quiet. Too still. Too early.
She scanned the rows of neatly arranged tables, the faint scent of paper and polished wood lingering in the air. Students whispered in corners, already immersed in their routines.
She was not one of them.
And yet—
There he was.
Lucien Ardent.
Already seated. Already working. Already irritating.
Sera narrowed her eyes as she approached. “You’re early.”
Without looking up, he replied, “You’re late.”
She dropped her bag onto the table with more force than necessary. “By two minutes.”
“Time matters.”
“Not that much.”
He finally glanced up.
And just like that—
There it was again.
That unsettling calm. That infuriating composure.
“You agreed to eight,” he said.
“I agreed under protest.”
“That doesn’t change the time.”
Sera leaned back in her chair, studying him. “Do you ever relax?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“When things are done correctly.”
She let out a quiet laugh. “Then I suppose you’re always disappointed.”
A pause.
Then—
A faint shift in his expression.
Not quite a smile.
But close enough to count.
“Sit,” Lucien said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
“I am sitting.”
“Properly.”
“I am not a document you can format.”
“No,” he said calmly. “You’re a variable I need to account for.”
That shouldn’t have affected her.
And yet—
It did.
Slightly.
Annoyingly.
Before she could respond, a voice cut through the silence.
“Well,” it drawled, “this feels tense already.”
Sera turned.
A tall figure approached, hands casually tucked into his coat pockets, an easy confidence in every step.
Alaric Thorne.
She recognized him immediately—reputation alone made that unavoidable.
“Didn’t expect to see you willingly cooperating with someone,” he added, glancing between them.
“I’m not,” Sera replied.
“You are,” Lucien said at the same time.
Alaric smiled. “Ah. Conflict. My favorite.”
He pulled out a chair without asking and sat beside them like he belonged there.
“You don’t,” Lucien said flatly.
“Relax,” Alaric replied. “I’m not here to interfere. I’m here to observe.”
“That’s worse.”
Sera smirked faintly. “I like him.”
“Of course you do.”
Before the conversation could escalate, the soft sound of heels echoed against the marble floor.
All three of them looked up.
Evangeline Virelle.
She didn’t just enter a room.
She *arrived.*
Composed. Elegant. Untouchable.
Her gaze swept over the table before settling briefly on Lucien—then Sera.
Something unreadable flickered there.
“Lucien,” she greeted smoothly.
“Evangeline.”
Sera didn’t miss the shift.
Subtle.
But present.
Interesting.
Evangeline’s attention moved to her. “You must be Seraphina Vale.”
Sera held her gaze. “And you must be someone who already knows that.”
A faint smile curved Evangeline’s lips. “I like to be informed.”
“I prefer experience.”
“Careful,” Alaric murmured. “You’re stepping into dangerous territory.”
Sera didn’t look away. “Good.”
Silence stretched—thin, sharp, deliberate.
Then—
Lucien closed his book.
“We’re wasting time.”
All eyes shifted back to him.
“Focus,” he continued. “We have less than a month to prepare.”
Sera crossed her arms. “Then say something useful.”
Lucien met her gaze.
And this time—
There was no distance.
No restraint.
Just intent.
“Fine,” he said quietly.
“Let’s test you.”
Sera’s pulse quickened—
Not from fear.
From challenge.
“Go ahead.”
Alaric leaned back, clearly entertained. “Oh, this is about to get interesting.”
Evangeline remained silent—but observant.
Watching.
Waiting.
Lucien’s voice was calm.
But sharp enough to cut.
“Convince me,” he said, “that working with you isn’t a disadvantage.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Sera didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t falter.
She leaned forward—
Eyes locked onto his.
“If you have to ask,” she said softly, “you’re already behind.”
A beat.
Then—
For the first time—
Lucien smiled.
Not faint.
Not subtle.
But real.
“Good,” he murmured.
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