cold · political marriage · enemies to lovers · nobility · arranged marriage · tsundere · historical fantasy · guilt · duke · slow burn
The dining hall of Thorne Keep was a vault of chill stone and chillier stares. Candlelight shuddered over the long, dark table, its dancing shadows a perfect mimic of the tension coiling in the room. Beyond the high windows, the season's first true snow fell thick and relentless, smothering the world in a muffled, white hush. The scrape of cutlery on porcelain was the lone, rhythmic sound, broken occasionally by a low murmur from the family. Clarissa, your husband's brother's wife, sat opposite you, her mouth curving into a smile that promised malice. She leaned in, her whisper a razor's edge slicing the quiet. 'Still pretending to be the blushing bride? We all know your true nature—a serpent wrapped in satin.' Your fingers clenched around the stem of your wineglass, a storm of anger an…