Chapter 60 – The Fall of Deception

Silence lingered in the throne room, thick and suffocating. Laurent's words still hung in the air like the stench of rot.

Some faces are worth killing over.

Seraphina felt Adrian tense beside her, a coil wound too tight, ready to snap. The air around him shifted—dangerous, charged. His grip on her hand, firm but measured, tightened ever so slightly, but it was the only warning he gave before he acted.

Before Laurent could revel in his own menace, Adrian moved.

In a single, fluid step, he placed himself between Seraphina and Laurent, shielding her with his body. The transformation was subtle, yet absolute—the calculating duke, ever composed in the face of intrigue, had become something far more lethal.

His voice, when it came, was a low, glacial threat.

"Speak her name like that again, and I will carve the words from your tongue."

Laurent, ever the showman, chuckled, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—caution, or perhaps recognition that he had overstepped.

"Adrian," Aldric's voice cut through the tension, his tone carrying that unmistakable edge of command. "This is a court, not a battlefield."

Adrian did not turn. His gaze remained locked onto Laurent, unreadable but brimming with silent fury.

"No, Your Majesty," he said, his tone deceptively smooth. "A battlefield would have been kinder."

Seraphina exhaled, steadying herself. She had seen Adrian play the dangerous game of courtly politics, but this… this was something else. He wasn't merely defending her honor; he was staking his claim—marking her as someone untouchable, a line drawn in blood.

Laurent tilted his head, a lazy smirk playing on his lips, but the amusement did not quite reach his eyes.

"Such devotion," he mused, his gaze flickering toward Seraphina. "I wonder, Lady Valemont, do you find it comforting or suffocating?"

Adrian took a step closer. Just one. But the menace in that single movement was enough to make Laurent stiffen.

"You should pray you never find out just how devoted I can be," Adrian murmured.

The room seemed to hold its breath. Aldric exhaled slowly, as though he were growing weary of the tension, but he did not interfere further.

Laurent, however, had enough sense to step back, if only slightly.

Adrian lingered a second longer, his presence towering, formidable, before he turned to Seraphina. His fingers found hers again, their grip firm, reassuring. Without another glance at Laurent, he led her from the throne room, but his silence was not a retreat. It was a promise.

And Laurent knew it.

---

The throne room had always felt cold, but as Adrian led Seraphina through its grand doors, the air behind them felt even icier. The echo of Laurent's words still lingered, their venom curling in the space between them.

Adrian's grip on her hand was firm, possessive. He did not speak as they strode through the palace corridors, his body rigid with unspoken fury. It wasn't until they reached the last of Aldric's guards that he finally stopped.

Then, in a swift, unrestrained motion, he turned to her.

"Are you all right?" His voice was low, taut with barely controlled anger.

Seraphina tilted her chin up, refusing to show weakness, but Adrian saw through her. He always did.

She exhaled sharply. "You shouldn't have reacted like that in front of them."

Adrian's jaw clenched. "Laurent threatened you."

"He made a veiled remark—"

Adrian cut her off. "A remark that made his intent clear. You think I would let that stand?" His voice had dipped lower, each syllable vibrating with the force of his protectiveness.

Seraphina swallowed, unsettled by the depth of his fury but unable to deny the way it affected her. The Adrian Valemont who played the court like a chessboard was a dangerous man. But this Adrian—the one who would wage war for her—was something else entirely.

She reached for him before she could think better of it, her hand pressing against his chest. His heartbeat was rapid beneath her palm, betraying the control he so carefully maintained.

"You cannot fight every battle for me," she murmured.

Adrian caught her wrist, pulling her closer until their bodies were nearly flush. "When it comes to you, Seraphina, I will wage war."

His words sent a shiver down her spine, not from fear but from something deeper, something that curled in her stomach and spread like wildfire through her veins.

She should have stepped back.

She didn't.

Neither did he.

His free hand rose, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw, his touch deceptively gentle despite the storm brewing behind his eyes.

"You are mine to protect," he murmured, his breath warm against her lips. "Mine."

Seraphina's pulse thundered, her thoughts tangling with the weight of his words. She should argue, should remind him that she had entered this marriage with her own agenda, that she was not some delicate thing in need of saving.

But standing here, with Adrian's touch igniting something deep within her, she found she didn't want to fight him.

Not this time.

"Then prove it," she whispered.

Something in him snapped.

With a low growl, Adrian closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was fierce, demanding, an unspoken claim that seared through her.

Seraphina gasped against his mouth, her hands finding his shoulders, gripping tightly as he backed her against the cold stone wall of the corridor.

Adrian deepened the kiss, his fingers threading into her hair, angling her head to take more—always more. It was a kiss born of possession, of frustration, of the dangerous pull between them that neither had dared to name.

And gods, she wanted to drown in it.

A distant sound—a footstep, a voice—broke through the haze, and Adrian tore himself away with a sharp inhale.

His forehead rested against hers, his breath ragged. "Not here."

Seraphina barely had time to gather herself before he grasped her hand once more, leading her away from the main hallways, toward the waiting carriage outside the palace.

---

The ride back to Valemont Manor was thick with tension.

Neither of them spoke.

Adrian sat rigid beside her, his fingers flexing against his thigh, as though he were holding himself together by sheer will. Seraphina was no better. Her entire body was still humming, the ghost of his lips lingering on hers, a maddening tease of something unfinished.

She turned her head to look at him. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed out the window as if refusing to look at her would keep him in control.

"You're tense," she observed.

Adrian's lips twitched, the closest thing to amusement he had shown since they left the palace. "Do you wonder why?"

Seraphina smirked. "You started this, Your Grace."

His head turned then, his gaze finally meeting hers. The air between them thickened, darkened.

"And I intend to finish it," he promised.

Her breath caught.

The carriage jolted to a stop in front of Valemont Manor. The moment the door was opened, Adrian stepped out and turned, offering his hand.

Seraphina hesitated—just for a second—before placing her hand in his.

He didn't let go.

Not as they crossed the grand halls of the manor.

Not as they ascended the stairs to the Duke's private chambers.

Not as he pushed open the heavy doors and pulled her inside.

The doors shut behind them with a finality that sent a shiver through her.

This was it.

No court.

No games.

Just them.

Seraphina barely had time to gather herself before Adrian was on her again.

But this time, there was no urgency, no wild desperation.

There was something deeper.

His hands skimmed down her arms, his touch reverent, as though savoring the moment rather than rushing to claim.

She let out a shaky breath. "You're taking your time."

Adrian's lips quirked. "I intend to do this right."

His fingers brushed over the laces of her gown, undoing them with meticulous care, each pull sending a shiver through her.

Seraphina's own hands weren't idle. She reached for the buttons of his coat, then his waistcoat, pushing them off his shoulders until they fell to the floor.

Her fingers traced the hard planes of his chest, feeling the heat of him beneath her touch.

Adrian let out a low growl, catching her wrists and pressing them above her head, pinning her against the cool surface of the door.

"I have wanted this," he murmured against her skin, his lips trailing down her throat, "since the day you walked into my life and turned my world upside down."

Seraphina shuddered, her breath catching as he lowered his head, his mouth following the path his fingers had traced.

Their marriage had begun as deception.

But this—this was real.

This was them unmasked, stripped of pretense, bound by something stronger than lies or duty.

And as Adrian finally, finally laid her upon their bed, Seraphina knew—

This was the moment their story truly began.