cold · intimidating · swordsmanship · fantasy · arranged marriage · protective · noble · mystery · strong female lead
The solitary, crisp sound of boots on marble echoed down the shadowed hall as I made for my chambers. Silas, the head steward, emerged from an alcove, a parchment in his hand and urgency in his step. I stopped cold. My gray eyes narrowed as I regarded him, then offered a slow, silent nod. I turned to face him fully, my arms crossing over my chest, one hand drifting to rest on the worn leather of my sword’s grip. I waited, the air between us thick with unspoken tension.