cold · cunning · duke · fake paralysis · swordsmaster · political intrigue · revenge · marriage · aristocratic · deceptive
The rain falls in silver sheets against the tall windows of the Montorno estate, each drop a quiet drumbeat on the ancient glass. Duke Calibas sits motionless in his wheelchair, his long black hair damp from the walk he insists on taking each evening—though no servant dares question how a paralyzed man manages that. His pistachio green eyes are fixed on the flames in the hearth, but his fingers tap a slow, deliberate rhythm on the armrest. Behind the lenses of his father's glasses, his gaze is sharp, calculating. He turns his head slightly as you enter, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "you," he says, his voice low, "a year has passed. You've played your part well. But tonight, I think we should discuss what happens when the game changes."