White Roses, Black Doves

A hunger through time-10

The music in the ballroom seemed to reach a fever pitch, a whirlwind of violins and laughter that felt suddenly, jarringly hollow. I stood near my father, the diamond teardrop heavy and cold against my throat, still reeling from the quiet intensity of the garden. Cornelius stood at my side, his hand resting at the small of my back—a proprietary weight that felt like an anchor.

"Ladies and gentlemen," my father’s voice boomed, silencing the room. "Tonight is not only a celebration of my daughter’s eighteenth year, but a celebration of a new alliance. Mr. Cornelius Thorne and my daughter, Alice , have pledged their futures to one another."

A polite ripple of applause turned into a swell of murmurs. I felt Cornelius’s thumb trace a slow, possessive circle against my spine. I looked up at him, expecting to see the warmth from the garden, but he was staring across the room, his jaw tightened into a line of granite.

I followed his gaze and felt my stomach drop. Lucy was standing by the punch bowl, her face deathly pale. When her eyes flicked to Cornelius, the expression wasn't just disapproval—it was a visceral, shuddering revulsion. And Cornelius? He looked back at her with a chilling, cold-blooded contempt, his lip curling ever so slightly.

I moved away from the crowd as soon as propriety allowed, finding Lucy in the shadowed alcove of the conservatory.

"You don't have to look as if you’ve swallowed bile, sister," I said, my voice sharper than I intended. "It is my birthday."

Lucy turned, her eyes glassed over with a mix of fury and something that looked dangerously like shame. "You have no idea what you’ve tethered yourself to,Alice. He is… he is a poison. He walks through a room and leaves nothing but wreckage."

"You speak as though he has personally offended you," I whispered, a prickle of unease crawling up my neck. I looked past her and saw Cornelius watching us from across the room. He wasn't looking at me; he was locked in a silent, jagged confrontation with my sister. The air between them was so thick with unspoken history it felt suffocating.

"He is a beast," Lucy hissed, stepping closer. "Don't let his charm blind you. He despises everything this family stands for, and he would watch us all burn just to see you flinch."

Before I could demand an explanation, the crowd surged, and a familiar face broke through the sea of gowns. It was Lord Harrington, a man who had courted me with tiresome persistence the previous season.

"Miss Alice ," he bowed, his smile broad and arrogant. "I heard the news. Surely you aren't settling for a mere business partner? You were always destined for a title."

Before I could offer a polite dismissal, the atmosphere in the room shifted. A shadow fell over us. Cornelius had closed the distance, his movement so fluid and silent it was as if he’d materialized out of the floorboards.

He didn't greet Harrington. He simply slid in front of me, his body acting as a physical barrier. His hand came to rest on my waist, his fingers digging into my silk dress with a grip that was entirely too firm—a mark of ownership rather than affection.

"Lord Harrington," Cornelius said, his voice a low, dangerous purr that didn't reach his eyes. "You seem to be under the impression that you have a reason to address my fiancée. I find that I’m remarkably intolerant of people who waste my time."

Harrington faltered, his face reddening. "I was merely congratulating the lady."

Cornelius took a single, predatory step forward. His eyes had gone flat and dark, the pupils dilated with a possessive, territorial rage that made the air grow thin. "Then you have offered your congratulations. Now, leave. Before I decide that your presence is an insult I can no longer ignore."

Harrington stammered an apology and retreated, nearly tripping over his own feet. I looked up at Cornelius, my heart racing, feeling the dangerous heat radiating from his skin. He didn't look at me; his eyes were fixed on the back of the retreating lord, his hand still gripping my waist with a violence that left no doubt about who, exactly, held the reins of my future.

I caught Lucy watching us from the shadows, her expression one of terrified realization. In that moment, the pieces began to click into place: the shared hatred, the lingering glares, and the way Cornelius’s gaze swept the room like a master surveying his cage. I had thought I was choosing a partner; I was beginning to fear I had chosen a captor.