"I'm sorry, what?" The words, usually delivered with a demanding trill, sounded thin and breathy as they escaped Isla Montgomery's perfect lips.
Isla remained rooted to her seat, every muscle in her body frozen in a posture of utter disbelief. The news her father had just shared should have been a glorious announcement—one she'd been anticipating for years—but the name attached to the decree was not hers. It was hers.
"Isla, my darling? What is it? You look rather pale." Duchess Julianna, a woman whose beauty was only just beginning to surrender to time, leaned over to brush a wild, bright strand of Isla's red hair from her face.
Across the long, polished mahogany of the dining table, her older half-sister, Elspeth, only watched. Elspeth's expression was typically muted, a practiced neutrality that grated on Isla's nerves. Of course, her younger half-sister was about to turn this pivotal moment into a spectacle centered on her own fragile emotions. As if the decree—that a Montgomery daughter was to wed the infamous Grand Duke Raymond Valance De Cristo—wasn't a personal slight against Isla herself.
"Father," Isla managed, her voice finding its familiar, cutting edge, "you can't be serious. You're having Elspeth marry His Grace the Grand Duke?"
Duke Edward Montgomery, a man used to commanding armies and councils, gave his youngest daughter a quick, dismissing glance. "Isla, please, not now. This is not about you," he pleaded, his voice heavy with the exhaustion of a man who knew exactly what battle he was trying to avoid.
An order had come down from the Emperor himself: a daughter of the powerful House Montgomery was to be united with the Grand Duke. The decision had been made—it would be Elspeth. The logic was sound: she was the elder. Moreover, the Duchess had insisted, desperate to save her precious biological daughter, Isla, from the marriage to a man whispered to be ruthless, cold-hearted, and perhaps even cursed.
But that was not how Isla saw it.
For years, she had been consumed by a white-hot infatuation with the Grand Duke. His triumphs in the decade-long war against the Eastern Kingdom of Estellos were legend in the Northova Empire. The Grand Duke was almost unmatched in combat and strategy, only one other man was known to be his equal in that regard—the Crown Prince of Valance. Raymond Valance De Cristo was a paragon of power and ruthlessness whose icy blue eyes and striking silver hair spoke of a stark, almost inhuman beauty. He had the Emperor's favor, an almost untouchable reputation, and a life wreathed in dangerous, compelling mystique.
Isla didn't care about his infamous shadow. She believed she was the one woman who could penetrate his steely defenses. She would be the one to thaw the legendary tyrant. She had planned her debut for this moment, rehearsing the scene: descending the Golden Hall stairs in her house colors, her brilliant green eyes and fiery red hair captivating the room, captivating him. It was destined to be a coup, a love-at-first-sight triumph that would cement her place as the Empire's most influential and cherished woman.
Now, her perfect, pre-ordained destiny was being carelessly tossed aside by her father and given to... her sister.
"But why her?" Isla demanded, pushing her chair back with a jarring screech against the stone floor. Her voice trembled, a sound more frightening than a shout. "Why Elspeth? She's utterly unremarkable! No one even notices her! I am the favorite! I am the one everyone sees!"
"Isla, my sweet, you are much too good for such a tyrant," the Duchess attempted to soothe, reaching for Isla's hand. "When your time comes, you will be with someone who can cherish you like your father and I." The implication was clear: Elspeth was being thrown to the wolves.
Elspeth didn't flinch. She was far too accustomed to her stepmother's not-so-subtle barbs.
The current Duchess was the second wife. Rebecca, the first wife—graceful, beloved, and long-dead—was a phantom presence Julianna could never banish. Elspeth was merely a living reminder of her predecessor's superiority, and so, Julianna had worked tirelessly to ensure her own daughter, Isla, was always the one showered with attention and praise. The Duke, often away on campaign and oblivious to the subtle neglect, had only reinforced Isla's belief in her own exceptionalism through indulgence.
"Isla," the Duke stated, his voice a low, thunderous warning that sent a shiver through the room, "I will not ask again. Do not make a scene. This is a matter of Imperial decree and House loyalty. Sit quietly. I have matters to discuss with Elspeth."
Isla froze. The two words sliced through her. Sit quietly.
She was the jewel of House Montgomery. She was the one who was never denied, whose smallest whim became her parents' singular mission. No one told her to be quiet. No one told her to know her place.
"I beg your pardon? No, Father, you will listen to what I have to say—"
"ISLA!" The Duke slammed his fist down on the table. The silverware rattled violently, a few heavy pieces skittering inches above the golden tablecloth before crashing back down. Every person in the room—the Duchess, Elspeth, and the staff melting into the shadows—flinching away from the raw display of power.
"I grow tired of your insolence!" Duke Edward's emerald eyes were aflame. "As of late, your outbursts have grown more bold! Do not forget your place! You are but a mere girl, barely an adult, and my daughter! I am the Duke! You will not talk back to me again, or so help me—"
"Edward!" the Duchess interjected, her voice panicked. "Do not speak to our daughter that way! You have no—"
"Silence, Julianna! It is due to your spoiling that she thinks she has a right to this! It is past time she learned! If you cannot stand by me in teaching her her place, then you and Isla may both leave the dining hall!"
The Duchess fell silent, shaken by her husband's rare but absolute authority.
Isla, however, was consumed by a blinding mixture of anger, frustration, and—most mortifyingly—embarrassment. Tears of rage stung her eyes. She surged from her seat, nearly knocking the heavy mahogany chair over. Gathering her expensive skirts, she rushed out of the dining hall, a whirlwind of burgundy silk and incandescent fury.
Her parents and sister watched her go. Elspeth was in utter shock. In all her life, she had never heard her father yell at Isla.
Isla fled through the halls and out into the gardens. The Duke had yelled at her. He had told her to know her place. He hadn't acknowledged her feelings about the most important man in the Empire being snatched from her grasp.
Did Father just tell me no?
He told me to shut my mouth and deal with it. He said I was spoiled!
A cold, unfamiliar sensation settled deep in her chest. This was not the script she was given. Her perfect world had just cracked open, and she didn't know what would crawl out.