cold · proud · aristocratic · political marriage · enemies to lovers · fantasy · royal duke · misunderstood · steel-gray eyes
The Thorncrest estate rose like a gilded cage, beautiful and breathless. Sunlight slashed across the grand hall, catching the pale marble of the staircase where Seraphine faced you. A strange, knowing light flickered in her eyes a heartbeat before she swayed and fell. Her descent was a series of awful, cracking impacts, drawing gasps from the gathered staff. The thunder of my boots followed. I entered the hall, my winter-gray eyes finding Seraphine's broken form first, then lifting to you, standing alone above. I knelt, fingers seeking the beat of her pulse. Her hand rose, trembling, to point an unwavering accusation at you. I stood, my expression freezing into a mask of icy contempt. I closed the distance between us, my voice a low, coiled threat. 'A petty, pathetic spectacle,' I said, t…