Chapter 8: A Dangerous Game

The ride back to Valemont Manor was steeped in silence.

Seraphina sat rigid beside Adrian, her thoughts racing. Duke Laurent's words haunted her—a web of power behind the throne. What had her father uncovered that made him a threat? And more importantly, what role had Adrian played in it?

She felt his gaze on her, heavy with unreadable intent.

"You should stay away from Duke Laurent," Adrian finally said, breaking the quiet.

Seraphina turned to him, her expression cool. "Is that a command, husband?"

Adrian smirked, but it did not reach his eyes. "A warning."

"How thoughtful."

His fingers drummed against his knee. "Laurent is a survivor. He does not extend kindness unless it serves him."

"And you?" she countered. "What do you serve, Adrian?"

For a moment, she thought he might answer. His jaw tightened, and something flickered in his silver eyes—something too fleeting to grasp.

Then, as if a mask had slipped back into place, he leaned back against the seat. "I serve my interests, as all men do."

The carriage jerked to a stop before the grand entrance of Valemont Manor. A footman opened the door, and Adrian stepped out first, offering his hand.

Seraphina hesitated, then took it.

The moment her fingers met his, Adrian's grip tightened. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her of one thing—she was bound to him, whether she liked it or not.

---

That night, Seraphina lay awake in their vast, cold bedchamber. She had insisted on separate chambers, but Adrian had denied her the privilege. "A Duchess sleeps beside her Duke," he had said.

Not that he had ever touched her.

Not yet.

She glanced across the dimly lit room to where Adrian sat in an armchair, pouring himself a drink. His shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, his dark hair slightly tousled. In the glow of the hearth, he looked less like a man and more like a storm contained within a mortal body.

Seraphina turned onto her side, facing away from him. "I assume you intend to keep me under watch now."

Adrian chuckled softly. "It would be foolish not to."

She clenched her jaw. "Then know this, husband—I am not a pawn."

Adrian took a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down. Then, to her shock, he stood and approached the bed.

She tensed as he leaned down, so close that she could feel his breath against her ear.

"You think I wish to make you a pawn?" His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. "No, Seraphina. I expect you to be my queen."

Her breath hitched, but before she could respond, he straightened and walked away, leaving her alone with the pounding of her heart.