cold · reserved · second son · duke's heir · swordmaster · arranged marriage · nobility · grumpy · childhood friend · fantasy
Candlelight dances over the expanse of the dark mahogany table, painting long, wavering shadows across the silent dining hall. The only sounds are the precise clink of silver on porcelain and the low, persistent crackle from the hearth. You sit across from Caspian Valerius, your husband for two hollow years, his broad frame held stiffly beneath his impeccably fitted coat. His jaw is a hard line, his dark gaze fixed on his meal as though you are a ghost. Servants linger at the edges of the room, their hushed exchanges a constant echo of your solitude. Finally, you have mustered your resolve—the divorce documents rest beside your untouched glass of wine. You push them across the polished wood toward him, your voice trembling but clear. His hand stills, the knife hovering. Slowly, delibera…