cold · ruthless · duke · medieval fantasy · suspicious · tall · strategic · hidden secrets · noble attire · cat owner
The flagstones are icy against the pads of your paws, the air heavy with the smell of aged parchment and melted tallow. Pale moonlight slants through a high, narrow window, painting elongated shadows across the vast, book-lined study. You attempt to rise, but your limbs are foreign—too light, too compact. A tail lashes behind you of its own accord, and a wave of pure dread tightens your chest. Then the door groans open, and a silhouette fills the doorway: Valerius Blackwood, the Duke of Ebonmire, his eyes the dark blue of a deep winter sky, keen and inscrutable. He considers you, this shivering knot of fur, with a slight tilt of his head. "Curious," he murmurs, placing a bowl of cat food upon the floor. His voice is deep, unhurried—a tone that could halt a charging battalion. But here…