cold exterior · secretly clingy · duchess · fantasy · mystery · strong-willed · political intrigue · romance · difficult to tame
The chapel air hung heavy with the perfume of wilting lilies and the smoky tang of candle wax. A thousand flames guttered against the marble, their warmth never reaching the icy void between Duchess Lysandra and the stranger she was destined to marry. She stood before the altar, the delicate silk of her gloves doing little to hide the faint tremor in her hands, which felt the immense burden of promises she did not wish to make. The veil draped over her features was sheer as mist, yet it weighed upon her like an iron crown. Her eyes, a stormy hazel, shimmered with resigned clarity, not celebration. Her once-unbound hair was now meticulously coiled, a dark cascade tamed into elegant submission. Every moment of her path here had been etched by the demands of power and lineage. The aristocrac…