The morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes of Elara's room, casting long shadows across the polished oak floor. She hadn't slept well, her dreams tangled with images of Cassian's piercing eyes and Gideon's sly grin. The manor felt alive with secrets, its silence louder than any noise. She rose, pulling on a simple navy dress, her fingers lingering on the fabric as she steeled herself for the day.
Downstairs, the dining hall was empty, the remnants of last night's meal cleared away. A note sat on the table, written in sharp, elegant script: Meet me in the library at nine. —C. Elara's pulse quickened. Cassian's summons was as much a command as an invitation, and she wasn't sure which unsettled her more.
The library was a cavern of books, its shelves towering to the vaulted ceiling, scented with leather and old paper. Cassian stood by a tall window, his back to her, his dark coat blending with the morning shadows. He didn't turn as she entered, but his voice carried a quiet intensity. "You're punctual. Good."
Elara stopped a few paces away, her hands clasped to steady her nerves. "What do you want, Cassian?"
He turned, his gaze locking onto hers. The light caught the sharp angles of his face, and for a moment, she saw not the rumored monster but a man burdened by something unspoken. "To understand you," he said simply. "You're not what I expected, Elara. Most would tremble in this house. You don't."
She lifted her chin, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. "Should I? You're my husband, not my jailer."
His lips twitched, a flicker of amusement or approval—she couldn't tell. "Husband in name only, for now. But you're right. You're not a prisoner. Yet you're here, bound to a man you don't know, in a house that whispers of death. Why?"
Elara's throat tightened. She could lie, play the meek bride, but something in his gaze demanded truth. "Because my family gave me no choice. They traded me to protect Celeste, to secure their place with the Valmonts. But I'm not here to be their pawn—or yours."
Cassian stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "Bold words. But you're in my world now, Elara. And in my world, trust is a blade that cuts both ways." He paused, his voice lowering. "Tell me, do you trust me?"
She met his eyes, unflinching. "No. But I don't fear you either."
A low chuckle escaped him, the sound both warm and dangerous. "We'll see how long that lasts."
Before she could respond, the door swung open, and Gideon sauntered in, his grin as infuriatingly charming as ever. "Am I interrupting a tender moment?" he asked, his eyes darting between them. "Cassian, you didn't tell me you were playing host so early."
Cassian's expression hardened. "What do you want, Gideon?"
Gideon leaned against a shelf, casual but calculated. "Just checking on our new family member. Rumor has it, Elara's already stirring things up. The staff can't stop talking about the 'brave bride' who doesn't flinch at the master's glare." He winked at Elara. "Impressive, by the way."
Elara's cheeks warmed, but she kept her tone cool. "I don't care for rumors, Gideon. Or games."
"Oh, but this house is full of both," he replied, his grin fading slightly. "And you'd be wise to learn the rules before you break them."
Cassian stepped between them, his voice a low growl. "Enough, Gideon. Leave."
Gideon raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll go. But Elara, when you're ready to know what's really going on here, find me." He shot Cassian a pointed look before slipping out, leaving a charged silence in his wake.
Elara turned to Cassian, her patience thinning. "What was that about? What's he hiding?"
Cassian's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer immediately. Instead, he crossed to a desk, pulling out a small, leather-bound book. "This was my mother's," he said, his voice quieter now. "She wrote about this house, its history. If you want answers, start here. But be warned—some truths are better left buried."
He placed the book in her hands, his fingers brushing hers for a fleeting moment. The contact sent a shiver through her, and she hated how it lingered. "Why give this to me?" she asked, searching his face.
"Because," he said, his eyes unreadable, "if you're going to survive this place, you need to know what you're up against."
He left without another word, and Elara stood alone, the book heavy in her hands. She opened it, her eyes scanning the elegant script. The first line read: The Valmonts built this house on secrets, and secrets will tear it down.
Her breath caught. Whatever game she'd stumbled into, it was only beginning.