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### **Chapter 7: The Duke's Last Feast**
The Varemaine estate stood like a monument to overindulgence—three stories of marble and stained glass, guarded by lion-headed gates and rows of dead roses, their thorns left intact like a warning to trespassers.
Seraphina arrived unannounced, but not unwelcome.
No one ever turned away the Duchess of Alvere. Not even Duke Varemaine, who owed her *nothing* but feared what refusal might cost.
The feast had already begun—a decadent display of roasted pheasants, wine poured from jeweled decanters, and flocks of powdered nobles fluttering around in silken desperation. All of it reeked of too much perfume and not enough power.
Seraphina stepped into the banquet hall like a queen into court. The music faltered for half a beat. Conversations paused. Even the chandeliers seemed to draw breath.
"Duchess," the Duke said from his place at the table's head, rising with a practiced smile. "We hadn't expected—"
"Clearly," she interrupted, her voice a cool drawl as she took a glass from a passing servant and seated herself *without* being offered. "No candlelight for guests? Or do you simply host your allies in the dark?"
A few nearby nobles tittered nervously. The Duke's eyes narrowed just slightly.
He was a thick man in more ways than one—flesh bloated with inherited greed, and mind dulled by decades of doing only what power required. But behind the glint of his jeweled cravat, Seraphina saw calculation. He was not as stupid as he looked.
"I had heard you've been… active of late," he said, seating himself. "You've become quite the whisper through the grapevines."
"Good," Seraphina replied. "Because whispers become screams with the right wine."
She raised her glass. The Duke followed suit, albeit more slowly.
"I've come," she said, her gaze fixed on him, "to offer you a chance to die with *some* dignity."
Silence fell.
And then laughter—shocked, wheezing, nervous laughter rippling down the table like a wave of fever.
The Duke chuckled as if amused, but his eyes were hard now. "You've always had a flair for dramatics, Seraphina. But this—this borders on suicidal."
"So does your loyalty to the Crown," she murmured, then leaned forward, voice low and velvet-dark. "I know about the letters you've been exchanging with the Crown Prince. The bribes. The falsified decrees. The shipment manifests you swore didn't exist."
His smile faltered.
"Oh, yes," she said. "The Queen Mother has been very generous with her archives. Turns out she doesn't like traitors. Especially not ones who betray *her* son while pretending to serve him."
The Duke's hands tightened around his wineglass.
"I could have it all exposed," Seraphina went on, "but I'd rather offer you something better."
"…Which is?"
"An exit. In two weeks, I will move to fracture the Crown's influence in the western provinces. You will step down quietly—citing illness. Retire to one of your country estates. Leave the capital. I'll ensure your heirs are left untouched."
"And if I refuse?"
Seraphina's smile was frost itself. "Then I'll expose everything. You'll be the first noble tried for treason in a public court. They'll burn your name, your fortune, your children. All that wine and velvet? Gone in a puff of smoke. Like a parlor trick."
The Duke stared at her. Weighing. Breathing shallowly.
Finally, he said, "I should kill you."
"You should have done that years ago," she replied coolly. "Now I'm far too expensive to kill."
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That night, back in her carriage, Seraphina allowed herself a breath.
"Will he comply?" Felix asked from across her.
She didn't look at him. Just stared out the window at the city lanterns flickering like dying stars.
"Yes. He's a coward, not a fool."
"And if he changes his mind?"
"Then he'll find the Queen Mother has already written his eulogy."
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Back at the Alvere estate, Seraphina lit a candle and opened the cursed book once more.
She turned to the chapter titled *"The Fall of the West."*
And found… it was changing.
The page was different.
> *"Though the Varemaine line fell from power, it did not perish in blood. The Duchess of Alvere—infamous, brilliant—cut out corruption by the root and offered peace instead of fire."*
She stared.
Then smiled.
**Fate, it seemed, could be edited.**
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**End of Chapter 7**