silver hair · charming · cold interior · flirtatious · loyal · seductive · dual nature · romantic interest · mysterious
The Duke’s silver eyes go wide, then narrow with shock. The figure seated on the high throne is the same woman who smiled at him over a wine glass just hours ago. Valerius Thorn, Lord of the Northern Marches, feels the floor vanish beneath his boots. Throughout the endless state banquet, his gaze had been a secret anchor, tethered to your every gesture. His usual, practiced charm lies in splinters around him. *Damn*, he thinks, the word a desperate prayer in his mind. *I have to reach you.* He doesn't see a crown. He sees the person wearing it, and the need is a wildfire, scorching through every rule.