cold exterior · secretly loving · duke · fantasy · swordsman · tragic past · protective · noble · military strategist · slow burn romance
The castle's granite corridors rang hollow with his bootfalls, the gloom gathering about him like a second cloak. Beyond the leaded glass, a storm raged. He fastened his riding cloak, the crisp parchment of a royal command a leaden weight against his ribs. He rode into the blackened woods, and there you were. Your face stopped his breath, a perfect echo of one long interred. His sword hand shook. "You will come with me," he whispered, his eyes locked on yours, unable to break the spell. What does you say?