She still needed to give the Shadow Demons a seat to pull them fully in.
With Bask and the soldiers at Blackstone Outpost, that side was already secure.
Speaking of the outpost troops… the Ogres could also be brought in.
But as far as Seraphina knew, the Ogres were still sitting on the fence.
The last seat that made her quill pause the longest was the most difficult, the one she had to both placate and watch closely: the Flame Demons.
They had openly questioned her in open court, the very symbol of opposition to the new policies. Excluding them would only deepen the divide. Better to rope them in.
She already had two solid votes. Adding the seemingly neutral Shadow Demons would make three. The Flame Demons’ inclusion would not affect final decisions at all.
As for their portfolio…
Oversight. The position most prone to “mistakes.” What counted as good oversight and what counted as bad would always remain in her final say.
“Seraphina, lunch is ready.”
Lina entered carrying a tray.
…
Back in his quarters, the Flame Demon marquis could not calm down.
He punched the obsidian table, leaving a scorched fist-print.
“Has Her Highness lost her mind to those human trinkets?!”
He muttered the name of the new institution, sulfur on his body crackling pop-pop-pop.
His aide approached cautiously. “My lord, calm yourself. We’ve all witnessed the Princess Regent’s wisdom. Perhaps… there is a deeper reason?”
“Deeper reason? Of course I know she isn’t stupid!”
He cut the aide off, pacing furiously, every step leaving blackened footprints.
“That’s exactly why I’m disappointed! If she used that mind for conquest, the Demon Realm’s territory would have doubled by now!”
“Her policies are blunting our edge! If this continues, warriors’ claws will dull, and we’ll end up huddled over a few patches of dirt, no different from those feeble humans!”
Finally, the Flame Demon leader made a move that borrowed another’s knife to kill.
“Go. Send word to the Ripper. Tell him the Flame Demons fully support their cause…”
…
Late that night, Seraphina dragged her exhausted body back to Movira’s bedroom.
The day’s battles had drained her completely. The room was dim; the fireplace unlit, yet still strangely warm.
She made it to the bed on muscle memory alone, too lazy even to light a candle, wanting only to collapse onto the soft mattress.
Movira wasn’t here… good. Better that way.
But how could that ever be possible.
The instant her fingertips touched the sheets, a lazy, familiar voice rose behind her, tinged with displeasure.
“Well, well. My Princess Regent seems to have had quite the ‘fulfilling’ day.”
Seraphina whipped around. Movira was reclining on the window-side chaise, black eyes actually glowing in the dark.
“Exhausted enough to need a little Bloodborn girl as a pillow?”
The voice was soft, yet to Seraphina it felt like a frozen blade against her throat.
“Is my embrace no longer comfortable? Or… do you now find someone else’s shoulder more worthy of your trust?”
Her heart sank like a stone.
The pressure in the study had not been an illusion.
Movira had seen everything.
“I… she just happened to be there… I only—”
“Shh.”
Movira cut her off, walking over. A hand reached out and gently rubbed the space between Seraphina’s tired brows.
“Tired, worn out, needing something to lean on…”
The oppressive aura from the daytime was gone; the voice was almost drowning in tenderness.
“Why didn’t you come to me? My love, I told you, I’m always here. You can come anytime.”
Her fingers slid down, cupped Seraphina’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet.
“Or are you still afraid of me? Still rejecting me?”
“…No.” Seraphina answered in a small voice, avoiding that gaze. “I just… just…”
“Heh~” Movira chuckled. “I know you still reject me. But it’s all right. You… can’t escape.”
She released the chin, only to slide an arm around Seraphina’s waist and guide her to the bed.
That night Movira did not tease further. She simply held Seraphina like a treasure, protective and gentle.
Yet when Seraphina’s breathing finally evened out in sleep, Movira slowly opened her eyes.
In their depths reflected a faint, luminous silhouette.
“Saintess… put away your foolish ideas…”
…
The next morning, Seraphina woke to a pain like knives twisting in her gut.
“Urgh…”
A pained groan tore from her throat. She jerked awake, curling into a ball as violent cramps seized her lower abdomen.
Cold sweat broke out on her forehead; her face drained of color.
Worse than the pain was the strange, ominous sticky warmth beneath her, and the faint, unmistakable scent of iron.
Trembling, she threw back the covers.
Dark-red blood had already soaked a terrifying patch into both bedsheet and nightgown.
For a moment her mind went completely blank. Thought itself stopped.
Blood? Why was there blood?
Was she injured?
When? Where?!
Why hadn’t she felt anything?!
Pain and the shocking stain wove together, shattering her composure.
A primal terror of the unknown flooded her. Her first thought: I’m going to die!
Is this a side effect of Movira’s potions?!
“M-Movira!”
Her voice cracked with raw fear, on the verge of tears. “Blood… so much blood… I’m dying! It hurts… my stomach hurts so much… save me…”
She tried to press a hand to the source of the pain, only to touch cold wetness. The blood on her fingertips sent her soul scattering in panic.
Hearing the tearful cry, Movira stirred at once. Seeing Seraphina’s terror, she pulled the shaking girl into her arms.
“Don’t be afraid.” Movira’s voice was calm, almost as though she had expected this.
“This isn’t an injury, my love.”
She took a handkerchief and gently wiped the blood from Seraphina’s fingertips.
“Then… then what is it?!”
Seraphina clutched Movira’s sleeve like a drowning person clutching driftwood. Tears finally spilled over, sliding down her cheeks.
“Not injured… but bleeding?! Why am I bleeding?! And it hurts so much…”