Chapter 4: The Cold Embrace of Duty

Morning light streamed through the tall windows of Seraphina's chambers, casting a golden glow over the room's lavish furnishings. She lay awake in the massive canopy bed, staring at the carved ceiling above her. Sleep had been fleeting, chased away by the weight of her new reality.

She was the Duchess of Valemont. A wife to the man who had razed her family to ruin.

A knock at the door broke her thoughts. Before she could respond, the heavy oak doors creaked open, and a young maid entered, her head bowed.

"My Lady, the Duke requests your presence for breakfast."

Seraphina sat up, stretching the stiffness from her limbs. "And if I refuse?"

The maid hesitated. "The Duke instructed that you should not be disturbed further if you choose not to attend."

A calculated move. If Adrian had ordered her dragged to the dining table, she would have fought him at every turn. But by offering her the illusion of choice, he made it seem as if she were the one conceding.

Seraphina swung her legs over the bed and stood. "Very well. Prepare me."

The maid, though nervous, was swift and efficient. She helped Seraphina into a dark emerald gown with golden embroidery, her deft hands braiding Seraphina's hair into an elegant knot.

Dressed as the Duchess she was forced to become, Seraphina descended the grand staircase and followed the scent of warm bread and spiced tea to the dining hall.

Adrian was already seated at the long table, his posture relaxed as he sipped his tea. He wore a dark vest over a crisp white shirt, his hair slightly tousled, as though he had only recently woken himself.

"Good morning, wife," he greeted, watching her over the rim of his cup.

Seraphina took her seat across from him, keeping her expression neutral. "Your Grace."

He gestured to the spread of food before them—fresh fruits, warm pastries, roasted meats. A meal fit for royalty.

"Are you attempting to win me over with luxury?" she asked, arching a brow.

Adrian smirked. "Would it work?"

"No."

He chuckled, setting his cup down. "Then consider it a simple courtesy. I do not intend for my Duchess to starve."

His Duchess.

Seraphina ignored the way the words prickled against her skin and picked up her fork. As much as she wished to reject everything about this place, hunger was not a battle she cared to fight.

For a while, silence stretched between them, broken only by the clink of silverware against porcelain. Then, without looking up, Adrian spoke.

"I will be leaving for the King's court tomorrow. You will remain here."

Seraphina lifted her gaze. "And what if I wish to accompany you?"

His silver eyes gleamed with amusement. "Do you?"

"Perhaps," she said coolly. "It would be interesting to see what manner of lies you spin to the court."

Adrian leaned back in his chair, studying her. "You assume I must lie."

"You are a man of war, Your Grace. All men of war lie."

A slow smile curved his lips. "And what of women of war?"

Seraphina stilled.

Adrian's smile deepened as if he had caught her in a trap. "You are not a meek noblewoman, Seraphina. I can see it in the way you look at me—not with fear, but with calculation. You are always searching for my weaknesses."

Seraphina set her fork down and met his gaze evenly. "Would you expect anything less from the daughter of a fallen house?"

"No," he admitted. "In fact, I would be disappointed otherwise."

The air between them crackled with something unspoken. A challenge. A battle neither of them had named aloud.

Adrian rose from his seat, smoothing the cuffs of his sleeves. "Enjoy your morning, wife. There is much for you to learn about Valemont."

Seraphina remained seated as he strode away, leaving her alone in the grand dining hall.

Much to learn, indeed.

If Adrian thought she would simply sit idly and play the role of the obedient Duchess, he was sorely mistaken.

She would learn. She would watch.

And when the time came, she would strike.