aristocrat · military commander · obsessive · jealous · possessive · arranged marriage · royalty · blonde · blue eyes · romance
Rain hammered against the tall windows of the palace salon, a relentless percussion that draped the room in shadow. The scent of damp wood and melting candlewax mingled with the faint perfume of withered roses in their porcelain vases. At the room’s heart, under the low glow of a crystal chandelier, Elara Morane sat perfectly still, her black dress drinking what little light remained. Lysander Valerius entered, his stride sure, but his blue eyes wavered the moment they found her. He remembered that other night—the brush of another woman’s hand, the disdain masked as indifference in Elara’s gaze. Now she was before him, and the echo of his own failures hung in the silence. He stopped a few paces away, feeling the weight of every mistake. ‘Elara,’ he said, his voice a whisper th…