The next day, the atmosphere inside the house felt somehow heavier, as if anticipation had been pressed into the air itself. My father, the duke, and my three older brothers were gathered in the drawing room discussing matters of state and our family, their voices carrying the usual mix of authority and casual arrogance. I had barely slept, and the events of the previous night in the meadow kept replaying in my mind.
Then the sound of hooves clattering over the gravel reached me. I looked up and saw Claude standing in the doorway. As always, he was calm and composed. My stomach tightened slightly.
"I have come to see your daughter," he said, addressing my father directly with firm authority.
"I wish to marry her."
Time seemed to stop in the room. My brothers exchanged cautious yet curious glances as if to protect me. My father leaned back in his chair, a faint smile on his lips as though he had anticipated this moment.
Claude's gaze briefly met mine. Not warmth or desire, but the sharp, calculating look I had seen on him in the meadow the night before. He was assessing me—my composure, my resolve, my potential.
"Why should I accept such a request?"
My father's voice was calm but heavy with weight.
Claude did not flinch. His amber eyes swept over me once, then returned to my father.
"She is capable, intelligent, and strong. I trust her judgment. And I believe her presence will strengthen everything it touches."
I lightly touched the fabric of my dress with my fingers, keeping my expression neutral.
This was not a matter of affection.
Not a matter of love.
It was opportunity. Access. Survival.
"I will accept," I said at last, my voice cautious yet firm.
Claude slightly bowed his head, acknowledging me with the attitude of an observer, not with warmth. What he needed was not my affection. It was my presence.
My father lightly clapped his hands.
"Then it is decided. My daughter shall marry Claude."
I stood quietly, feeling the calm calculation wrap around me like a cloak. I was neither excited nor in love. But I was ready. I had endured our first encounter in the meadow, and now this was just another step.
Aisha would appear soon. And the moment she did… everything would change.
That afternoon, Landon arrived at the duke's estate. As always, his demeanor was charming, yet edged with a sharp tension that made the air taut.
"Are you serious?" he said, leaning against the doorframe, his sharp green eyes fixed on me.
"Claude? Marrying her? Have you thought about what this could mean?"
My father didn't lift his eyes from the papers on his desk.
"Thought about what could happen? She is my daughter, Landon. She has her judgment, and I have mine. Claude is the match I have chosen. The decision is final."
Landon's jaw tightened. His usual smirk faltered.
"You don't understand. There are complications. Risks. It's not so simple—"
"I understand perfectly," my father cut him off coldly.
"And I have refused. This ends here."
Landon's shoulders stiffened. For a moment, frustration, anger, and disbelief crossed his face, but he pushed no further. He knew when my father was sincere.
After sharply nodding, Landon gave me one unreadable glance and left.
Only then did I exhale the breath I had been holding. Landon was intimidating, cunning, sometimes frightening—but at least now, he could not interfere.
The next day, Claude appeared at the duke's estate again. No, it was now my home. He walked in as if he owned the place, his eyes glinting with mischief. His first words were not some royal pronouncement but pure teasing.
I sat on the edge of the bed, legs crossed, and pushed the contract toward him.
"Here. Read it. Sign it. Complaints are forbidden."
"So… hiding from the world here?" He circled the room, looking around.
"Not bad. Cozy. And wow… you look pretty today."
His surprise was evident, even at that compliment.
I blinked.
"Pretty? That's the first thing you noticed?"
He shrugged.
"You always wear that cloak. Rarely see this view."
I crossed my arms.
"If you're here for business, there's a contract. Three months of marriage. Then divorce is confirmed. During that time, only appearances, duties, and marriage preparations. Nothing personal. Nothing beyond that."
Claude leaned casually against the wall, one hand in his pocket, tilting his head.
"A contract… fancy. You really think I'll sign without grumbling?"
Click. He signed.
Then, without another word, he pushed me onto the bed, lightly placing his hands on either side to pin me.
I flinched not at all. No reaction. Just calm, as if nothing had happened.
"Then," he said in a low, playful voice,
"We're engaged… in a way, at least."
I covered his face with the contract.
"Deal done. Get off the bed, Your Highness."
He gracefully stepped back.
"All right. But I must say," he laughed,
"I quite like this version of you."
What is this man, really?
I stared at him, dumbfounded.
The corridors of the estate were wide, quiet, imposing. But I straightened my posture and walked with measured steps.
Daniel was at a polished table, reviewing documents. He looked up, giving a faint, mischievous smile.
"First day at the palace," he said, calm and measured, though a trace of humor lingered beneath.
"Not just to be overwhelmed, I hope?"
I returned a polite smile, my voice warm.
"I'm here to learn my role. I want to make a good impression."
He chuckled softly and shook his head.
"Straight to the point. I like it. But don't always be so serious. Even in… stiff places like this."
I smiled courteously again.
"I'll remember. Thank you for the advice."
Daniel's amber eyes scanned me, sharp but amused.
"Good. Stay composed, but don't forget to enjoy it. You'll need it."
He returned to his documents. Professional and precise, yet that playful note remained.
I exhaled quietly. The strange combination of authority and comfort his presence gave me was palpable. Kind, polite, warm. Yes, I could do this.
I should have touched him. To see death, even. But I didn't. Not yet. Some instincts must wait.
I felt someone's gaze.