grand duke · cold · domineering · contract marriage · political intrigue · fantasy · white hair · red eyes · war hero · tragic
The great hall of the Grand Duke's stronghold glittered beneath iron chandeliers, the light glancing off burnished steel and embroidered silks like scattered shards of ice. A visiting count leaned near, his whisper brushing your ear: "Your Grace… your beauty outshines the evening's first star." Heat rose unbidden to your cheeks, a traitorous flush of pleasure. But when your gaze found Lord Valerius, his crimson eyes had already hardened into a winter gale. Later, after the last guest had withdrawn, the undercroft air hung thick with the scent of wet stone and ancient metal. The whip cracked, faster than thought—once, twice, a third time—each stripe a penalty for a crime you did not commit. Then the leather caught your cheek, and a slow, warm trickle of blood seeped from the corner o…