Fourth Arc (Thorns of The Black Throne) - 458. The Caring Stepmother I
Jane didn't say anything. She just stepped closer to Rose and slipped her hand into hers. Like a girl lost in the dark, finding her candle again.
Rose's hand tightened on Jane's.
Angel's voice was calm. "It seems she still needs time. Perhaps being here will help restore her memories. Or not. Either way, she is under Euphorion's protection until further notice," he repeated.
Darius forced a smile again. "Yes… of course."
It didn't reach his eyes.
Jane didn't even flinch. Her face remained blank, her posture quiet, shoulders curled slightly as if trying to shrink herself. A perfect imitation of a traumatized girl still haunted by the unknown.
But Rose? Rose didn't let go of her hand.
And Angel stood just behind her like a blade tucked in silk.
The throne room was bathed in golden light.
But the air?
Yeah… the air was tense as hell.
Servants barely breathed. Guards stood straighter than usual.
Jane scanned the room in silence.
She did not forget.
Not the way the ceiling cracked just slightly in the corner. Not the faint perfume that still clung to the throne cushions. Not the chipped pedestal where her mother's statue had stood before Seraphine had it moved to "make space for a new aesthetic."
She didn't say anything. Just let her eyes flick once toward the far wall.
The painting was gone.
Of course it was.
The one she made herself. The portrait of her mother when she was still alive, before Seraphine, before the whispers, before her father had turned cold.
'That's fine,' she thought.
'That's fine. I remember every line of her face. You can't erase what's burned in me.'
Seraphine smiled, graceful as ever, all velvet lips and glassy warmth. "You must be exhausted from the journey," she said. "Please… let us prepare a room for you. Somewhere quiet. Familiar."
Jane blinked slowly.
Rose gently nudged her hand. "It's alright. You don't have to say anything."
Darius and Seraphine both held their displeasure close to the chest, but for very different reasons.
Darius burned silently with resentment over Angel. The man who defied his expectations. The man who took Euphorion not through inheritance, but conquest. A man who now sat on a throne stronger than his own, gathering kingdoms like pieces on a chessboard. And worse, he had the people's love. Darius masked it well, but that quiet fury simmered behind every glance.
Seraphine, though, had no interest in Angel's politics. Her disdain focused elsewhere… on Queen Rose. And Jane. Especially Jane. She knew Rose was shielding the girl, giving her warmth and protection… and that irked her.
Because Seraphine knew girls like Jane. Bastards elevated beyond their place. It didn't matter if Angel supported them. Men were men. She could deal with Angel eventually. He'd never known a mother, after all. She believed he'd crave that maternal touch. And that was her way in.
But to pull this off, she needed to be seen as sincere. So, for now, she would play the role. The caring stepmother. She smiled when needed. Stood by Darius. And made sure both Jane and Roric knew she was trying. For now, anyway.
Seraphine stepped down from the dais, her heels sharp against the marble, and she moved like a vision… too perfect, too polished. Her perfume hit first.
Motherly. Almost.
Too much.
Even Angel didn't speak.
Because Seraphine wasn't speaking to Jane.
She was watching Rose.
And even that little glance from Angelus to Seraphine? She caught it.
Seraphine knew how to read people. Knew how to get inside them. She was careful now. Trying to wear the mask of a mother welcoming a lost daughter.
But there was something sour in her voice. A flicker of tension in her posture.
Because Rose had brought Jane home. And Jane… didn't reach for her.
"I'll walk with her," Rose said gently. "She still… panics a little."
"Yes," Seraphine replied, her eyes still smiling. "Of course. You've been so good to her. Truly."
Angel's presence darkened just slightly behind them.
Darius finally stepped forward, his voice slicing through the quiet.
"Is this why you've come?" he asked, turning his sharp gaze to Angel. "To bring her?"
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