BRIDE OF THE NIGHT COURT

Seraphina, 18

The Everleigh household was known for one thing beyond the beauty of its daughters—virtue.

All of England knew this, and my father, Lord Everleigh, took great pride in it. Especially in me, his only daughter. The flower of the courthouse, heiress to the second richest household in England.

I was revered. Admired. Prized.

Until last night.

Now, I am the subject of scandal. The shame of the Everleigh name. Not for my elegance or refinement—but for something disgraceful. Unspeakable.

“You disgraceful daughter! You filthy whore!”

Father's voice thundered through the mahogany-paneled study, echoing off the stone walls like cannon fire. I flinched again, the sting of his words slashing deeper than any blade. The room stank of old smoke, leather-bound books, and a trace of something sour, perhaps the spilled wine in the corner from his earlier fit of rage, or the food littered around his extremely use to be clean space. Dust motes floated through the filtered sunlight, but there was no warmth in the air. Not a single one. Only judgment.

He stood rigid, jaw clenched, trembling with fury. His hand pointed at me like a sword, sharp and merciless. His rage palpable, untamed. The way he looked at me... it was as if I were no longer his daughter, and that hurt like hell.

“Father…” I whispered, voice thin and cracked from weeping. My throat burned. My lips were dry. My limbs trembled.

No one believes me. Not even Mother.

I’ve never cried like this—not since I first understood the difference between right and wrong. I’ve never felt such desperate need to explain myself. But no one listens. My father paces the room like a madman, and my mother sits silently with her face buried in her hands—refusing to meet my eyes. As though I were filth. Unworthy.

Only the three of us occupy the study. Yet it feels as though judgment itself hovers in the air, suffocating me with every breath.

“I forbid you to call me that!” Father bellowed. “From this day forward, you are no blood of mine!”

My breath caught in my throat. I looked up slowly, meeting his hateful gaze. My heart thudded so violently, I thought I might faint.

He had disowned me. My eyes stinged as I watched him flared in fury. Why won't he let me speak?

“Fa…”

“You dare look me in the eye after what you’ve done?” he bellowed, his eyes meeting mine. “Tell me, how many times, Seraphina? How many times did you open yourself to him? Or was it not just Ferdinand? Were there others?”

“No!” I cried. “Father, I swear on my life—I’ve never—”

“You liar!” His spit flew as he shouted. “You pretended so well—like a proper young lady. So pure. So obedient. I should’ve known better! Beneath all your grace was rot…”

I turned to mother who sat motionless on the chaise, her face hidden in her trembling hands. Her lilac perfume, once comforting, was now bitter in the air. She hadn't looked at me since the accusations began. I was invisible to her. Or worse, shameful.

“... I should have killed you the very instant you made the first sound as a baby.”

“Silver!” Mother’s voice cracked in shock as she lifted her tear-streaked face. She wasn’t supposed to speak, it was custom in our household for women to remain silent when men spoke, only except if her opinion was needed.

Her mistake earned her a glare so sharp it silenced her instantly.

“What?” Father growled. “This is all your fault, Alicia. If you'd raised her properly, maybe she wouldn't have turned into such a disgrace.”

“Father, please,” I cut in, my voice fragile but urgent. I wanted so badly to reach him, to make him see the truth hidden deep within me. “I swear on my life, I did nothing dishonorable with Ferdinand. I have no idea—”

“Yet they found you naked beneath him!” he spat, laughing bitterly. “You were so desperate for him that you couldn't wait for a proper room? You had him in the barn, Seraphina. The barn! My own daughter defiled in a horse house!”

I swallowed hard, my lips trembling. Every bit of me trembled vigorously. At this rate, father might have Mr executed.

I had tried to explain. Desperately. But My mouth opened, yet the words died on my tongue. My knees buckled slightly beneath me.

How do I explain a situation I didn’t understand myself? The last thing I remembered was talking with Ferdinand and Georgina, my cousin sister, at the ball. Then drinking something, something Ferdinand had brought me. After that... nothing.

Nothing until a splash of cold water jolted me awake. I wasn’t in my room. I was sprawled in the barn, barely covered, with Ferdinand beside me, his face buried in my hair like we were knocked out after some really erotic moment together. And worst of all, we weren’t alone. Half of England had gathered, watching. Whispering. Laughing.

There is no explanation I can offer that would make sense. No redemption for what they believe I’ve done. I was to remain pure, untouched, until marriage. Until I became Ferdinand’s wife, he who had been my childhood friend and betrothed since birth.

I had made sure to uphold it. Ferdinand also helped. He knew the rule and he was cool with it. I have no idea what happened.

“Your wedding to Ferdinand is in two weeks! You couldn’t wait? You couldn’t keep your legs shut for fourteen days?” He turned and slammed a book from his desk across the room, it crashed into the hearth and burst into a puff of ash. “Damn it all!”

The fire crackled, indifferent, yet it pieced through my soul. Mother and I jumped at it, but was more shaken that he cursed, for the first time in my presence.

My hands shook as I clutched the folds of my gown, trying to anchor myself. The velvet felt heavy. Suffocating.

I buried my face in my hands, gasping for air as my sobs choked me. What can I say? What can I do?

“Please, Father,” I wept. “Please forgive me. I swear, I don’t know what happened. I would never bring shame upon you. Upon our name.”

But he didn’t listen. His eyes had hardened. His voice, colder than ever.

“You were my pride,” he said, quieter now, but no gentler. “And now? Now, you are the ruin of this house.”

The finality in his voice shattered what little strength I had left.

I tried to crawl to him, to plead, but he raised a hand sharply. “Don’t move.”

I froze, tears streaming down my cheeks. I was no longer the beloved daughter. I was the cursed one. The stain on his legacy. The scandal that now defined the Everleigh name.

And it would not end with me.

Mother would never again raise her head in society. Father’s word would be met with ridicule. The Everleigh name, once pristine, now dragged through the mud. And all because of something I did not choose. Something I did not understand. I needed to plead more, I can't be discarded by my own family. I don't care if the society does, but clearly, father cares. He had always lived for the society.

“Please,” I whimpered, “I swear I never—”

He turned back to me with a dry, cruel laugh. “You’ll still marry him,” he spat. “No man will ever want you now. You’ll be lucky if he doesn’t call off the wedding and leave you to rot. Though perhaps he prefers you ruined.”

“I didn’t touch him, I didn’t let him—”

“Yet he touched you. Was inside you. You think the world cares about the difference? You think a reputation can be rebuilt once it’s stained like this?” he paused, then stared at me with disgust. “You weren't even stained when you were brought in. I can't believe I had prided myself and my legacy on a complete Whore.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to draw blood. My lips parted. Only mother's sniffles filled the room as father's hateful eyes burned with mine.

You weren't stained. Seraphina, you are no virgin.

“Get in!” Father roared, gentle yet soul wrenching.

The heavy oak door swung open, and two of his guards, Anthony and Gregory, entered. They bowed to him, awaiting his orders with solemn expressions.

“Take her,” he commanded. “Have her whipped. Publicly.” he then stared down at me with yet another finality. No warmth, not even anything close to it. “Let the staffs, servants and the whole of England see what becomes of whores.”

My blood ran cold.

“No,” I gasped. I needed to explain more. I needed to let father know I did nothing wrong. I needed to let him know they was a misunderstanding.

The guards approached. My breath quickened. I backed away, chest heaving. The room was spinning, bookshelves, fire, window, all blurring.

“Father please. Father please don’t do this. I’m begging you!”

But there was no mercy left in his eyes. No trace of the man who once tucked me into bed and kissed my forehead.

Only fury. Only anger, and one more word.

“Have her locked in her chambers afterwards. No food. No water. Until I say otherwise.”