The Duke's new obsession

Chapter 7

The morning sun in the North didn't rise; it shattered. It broke over the jagged peaks in shards of brilliant, blinding white that poured through my window, waking me before Bella even had the chance to knock. I lay there for a moment, the silver locket still tucked safely in the drawer of the vanity, its presence a quiet weight in the room.

"Good morning, My Lady," Bella said, entering with a basin of steaming water. She looked much better after a full night’s rest. "The Duke has requested your presence for breakfast in the small dining hall. He said... if you are feeling up to it, of course."

"He requested?" I asked, sitting up. "He didn't command?"

Bella smiled softly. "He was quite polite about it, actually. He even asked the cook to prepare something called 'Honey-Drenched Boli.' He said he heard you might miss the flavors of the capital."

My heart did a strange little skip. He was paying attention. For a man who seemed to spend his life buried in ledgers and iron-bound politics, the fact that he knew of my favorite street snacks from home was... unsettling.

I chose a dress of deep plum wool—simple, elegant, but warm enough for the drafty corridors of the fortress. As I walked toward the dining hall, I felt less like a victim and more like a guest of honor.

The "small" dining hall was still larger than my father’s entire house. A fire roared in the hearth, and a long table of dark oak was laid out with a spread that looked fit for a king. Valdemar was already there, seated at the head. He wasn't working this time. He was simply waiting.

As I entered, he did something that shocked me: he stood up.

"Elena," he said. The way he said my name—not as a piece of property, but as a person—made the air in the room feel thin. "I trust the mountain air treated you well last night?"

"I slept better than expected, Duke Valdemar," I replied, taking the seat he offered.

"Call me Valdemar," he said quietly, resuming his seat. "The titles are for the courts and the soldiers. In this house, you are not a subject."

We ate in a silence that felt different than the one in the carriage. It was expectant. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He moved with a practiced precision, but I noticed the way he lingered over his tea, watching the snow fall outside the window. He looked like a man who was used to being alone, and for a fleeting second, I wondered if he was as lonely as I had been in my father's house.

"The locket," I began, my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest. "A servant found it in the carriage. It has a Southern flower inside."

Valdemar didn't flinch. He didn't even look up from his plate. "The North has many secrets, Elena. Sometimes, we hold onto things from the South to remind us that the world isn't always made of ice."

"Is that why you bought me?" I asked, the boldness of the question surprised even me. "To remind you of the sun?"

He finally looked at me, and the intensity in his flint-grey eyes was enough to make me catch my breath. There was no coldness there now—only a deep, burning focus that made me feel like the only person in the world.

"I didn't buy you to be a reminder, Elena," he said, his voice dropping to that low, velvet tone. "I brought you here because I couldn't watch you be broken by men who didn't know your worth."

Before I could ask what he meant, a guard entered, bowing low. "My Lord, the Council from the Iron Port has arrived. They are demanding an audience regarding the new trade routes."

Valdemar’s mask of the Duke returned instantly. He stood up, the warmth of the moment vanishing as if it had never been there.

"Enjoy the gardens today, Elena," he said, nodding to me. "The snow has settled, and the glass house is warm. We will speak more this evening."

He swept out of the room, leaving me alone with my cooling tea and a thousand new questions. He hadn't answered me—not really. But as I looked at the "Honey-Drenched Boli" on my plate, I realized he was doing something much more dangerous than locking me away.

He was making me want to stay.