The Duke's new obsession

CHAPTER 3: The Scent of Winter

The carriage finally slowed, the iron-rimmed wheels crunching over a bridge of solid stone. But I didn't hear the gates opening. I was deep in the fog of exhaustion, trapped between the nightmare of my past and the uncertainty of my future.

When the carriage came to a full stop, the sudden lack of motion pulled me toward the surface of sleep, but I couldn't quite open my eyes. My body felt like lead. Then, I felt the cool rush of the night air as the door opened, followed by the shift of weight in the carriage.

I felt a pair of strong, steady arms slide beneath my knees and my back. My breath hitched, a small protest dying in my throat, but I didn't fight. As he lifted me, my head fell naturally against his shoulder.

That was when the scent hit me.

It wasn't the dusty, suffocating smell of my father’s cologne or the flowery perfumes of the capital. Duke Valdemar smelled of the deep North—a sharp, intoxicating blend of crushed pine needles, expensive sandalwood, and the crisp, metallic scent of falling snow. Beneath it all was something warmer, like the faint smoke of a cedarwood fire clinging to his wool coat. It was a calm, grounding scent. It felt like safety, and against my own will, my racing heart slowed. Instead of waking up, I let out a soft sigh and tucked my face closer to the crook of his neck, sinking back into the darkness.

THIRD PERSON's POV:

Duke Valdemar looked down at the girl in his arms, his expression unreadable in the moonlight. She was lighter than he expected, a fragile thing of silk and torn lace. He didn't call for a servant to take her. Instead, he adjusted his grip, his boots clicking firmly against the black marble floors of the entrance hall.

The Great Hall of the Northern Estate stretched upward into the shadows, a masterpiece of iron and stone. As he carried her through the corridors, the castle seemed to breathe with a quiet power. High arched ceilings were supported by pillars of raw obsidian, and the walls were draped in tapestries of silver and deep midnight blue, depicting the constellations of the northern sky.

They passed through a gallery lined with ancient armor that stood like silent sentinels their polished visors reflecting the orange glow of the flickering wall torches. The air here was chilled, kept crisp by the mountain winds, but the floors were covered in thick, plush rugs of white fur that muffled every footstep. It was a place of cold elegance—beautiful, but intimidatingly vast.

Valdemar reached the heavy oak doors of the Eastern Suite. With a nod to the guards standing watch, the doors were opened silently. He moved into the room, a space filled with the amber light of a pre-lit fireplace and the scent of dried lavender. He placed her onto the massive silken bed as if she were made of glass, lingering for only a second to look at the dried tear tracks on her cheeks before turning away. He had a kingdom to run and a debt to settle.

Without a word, he exited, the click of his boots fading as he headed toward his private office at the west Wing

END OF THIRD POV

When my eyes finally blinked open, I was disoriented. The ceiling above me wasn't the plain white plaster of my bedroom at home. It was made of dark, polished wood with intricate carvings of vines and wolves.I stood up, my legs a bit shaky, and walked toward the window. The sheer scale of the estate was breathtaking. This wasn't just a house; it was a fortress of ice and luxury. Everything was so different from the soft, colorful capital. Everything here had an edge.





"I'm really here," I whispered, my fingers touching the cold glass. "The North."



I turned back to the room, my eyes landing on a tray of food and a fresh set of clothes laid out on a velvet chaise lounge. There was no note, but the message was clear. I was a guest, but the heavy iron bolt on the outside of the door told another story.



I was a prize of the Northern Coast now. And my new master was somewhere in this cold, beautiful maze, waiting for me to wake up.