**Chapter Seven: The Viper's Strike**
The world dissolved into chaos.
One moment, Tristan's blade was at her throat. The next, a cloud of emerald smoke erupted from Seraphine's ruined bodice, swallowing the room whole. Guards screamed as the poison hit their eyes, their noses, their open wounds—their flesh sizzling where the mist touched bare skin.
Tristan staggered back, coughing blood. "You bi—"
Seraphine didn't let him finish. She lunged through the haze, driving her knee into his groin with every ounce of strength she possessed. As he doubled over, she snatched the fallen dagger from the dead guard's throat and pressed it to Tristan's jugular.
"Say it," she hissed. The poison swirled around them like a living thing, clinging to her tattered sleeves. "Call me your bride one more time."
Across the room, Kaelan moved like a specter through the smoke. His sword flashed—once, twice—and the remaining guards fell like wheat before the scythe.
Tristan's laugh was a wet, choking sound. "You won't kill me." Blood bubbled at the corner of his lips. "You're still that soft little girl who cried when her pet dove died."
The dagger bit deeper. "That girl drowned with my dignity in your wedding wine."
A hand closed around her wrist.
Kaelan. His gloves were smoking where the poison had eaten through the leather. "Not like this," he growled.
She bared her teeth. "Why not?"
"Because I need him breathing." Kaelan wrenched Tristan up by his hair, exposing the prince's throat to the fading poison mist. "For now."
The lodge door burst open.
Pig's blood and straw—the decoy corpse meant to be her execution—slumped against the doorframe. Except now it moved. Now it spoke.
"Christ's bones, woman!" The "corpse" tore off its death mask, revealing Pip's flushed face beneath. "A little warning next time you decide to weaponize your undergarments!"
Rook groaned from the floor, plucking the dagger from her shoulder with a grimace. "Remind me never to get you angry."
Seraphine didn't smile. Her gaze locked on her mother, who was watching the scene with something disturbingly like pride.
"You knew," Seraphine whispered.
Lady Vaelis dabbed at the cut on her cheek with a torn sleeve. "About the rebellion? Of course." Her eyes flicked to Kaelan. "About him? Not until tonight."
Kaelan dragged Tristan toward the door. "We need to move. More guards will come."
The prince spat blood at his feet. "You're dead, Dain. All of you."
Pip kicked him in the ribs. "Yes, yes, very scary. March."
As they spilled into the moonlit forest, Seraphine caught her mother's arm. "The Thorn Court rebellion. Our money. Our people. Why?"
Her mother's smile was a knife in the dark. "Because some of us prefer queens to kings."
A horn sounded in the distance.
Kaelan cursed. "They've found us."
Seraphine looked down at her poison-stained hands, then at Tristan's stumbling form. At the blood, the betrayal, the burning lodge behind them.
Somewhere, a dove cried.
She wipped her dagger clean
Let them come