Jane

Genre: Romance | Fantasy | Drama Tagline: She was sold to save her family. He hides a curse that could destroy them both. Chapter One: The Price of a Daughter The air in Dervon Village always smelled of salt and sorrow. Nestled between the gray hills and the silver cliffs of the North Sea, it was the kind of place where secrets were buried deeper than graves. And on that particular morning, the village buzzed not with gossip or fish sales — but whispers of a carriage that had arrived before dawn. Elena Rivers was barely awake when her younger brother, Tomas, burst into the kitchen, breathless. “They’re here,” he whispered. “The Duke’s men. Outside.” Elena dropped the mug she was holding, the clay shattering on the wooden floor like her composure. She didn’t need to ask which duke. There was only one who sent carriages instead of letters. Only one who lived in a castle too far from the village to matter — until now. Her father hadn’t returned from the tavern the night before. But Elena knew. He had gambled again. And this time, the debt was too high for coin. By mid-morning, the truth was confirmed. “You are to be wed, Elena,” the messenger said, his black cloak absorbing the sunlight. “By royal contract.” Elena’s mother — once proud, now a husk of the woman she’d been — didn’t cry. She simply turned away, holding the wall as if it were the only thing keeping her from collapsing. “It’s the only way,” her father said later, eyes bloodshot, voice weak. “He said no more interest, no punishment for the loans. He wants a bride.” “A bride?” Elena hissed. “I’m not a payment. I’m your daughter!” “You’ll live better than any of us,” he muttered. “Better than this.” She almost slapped him. Almost. But the truth was — he was right. Their roof leaked. Her hands bled from the herb garden. Tomas had outgrown his shoes a year ago. Maybe a cursed duke was still better than starving slowly. She packed a small bag. A comb, a book of herbs, her mother’s pendant, and a sliver of hope. The carriage was silent the entire ride. The trees thinned, giving way to cold stone roads, and by nightfall, the castle appeared — carved from black marble, as if grown from the mountain itself. Draven Manor was more fortress than home. At the gate, she was received by a man named Garrett, the Duke’s steward. “You will be shown to your quarters,” he said briskly. “The Duke will not see you tonight.” “Why not?” Elena asked, her voice steadier than she expected. Garrett hesitated. “The Duke... keeps strange hours.” She was taken to a lavish room with red drapes and a fireplace already lit. A meal was left on the table — untouched by whoever brought it. As she ate, a question began to grow in her chest. Why would a wealthy Duke take a poor village girl as a bride? She did not see him until the second night. Elena was walking the halls, unable to sleep, when she turned a corner and stopped. There he stood. Tall. Dressed in a long black coat. Raven hair pulled back. Pale eyes that glowed faintly — unnaturally — in the candlelight. “You’re not supposed to be wandering,” he said, voice low, like gravel wrapped in silk. “I’m not a prisoner,” she said. “No,” he said. “But you're not quite free either.” She stared at him. “You’re the Duke.” He said nothing. “You bought me.” He flinched, and something flickered in his expression — regret? Guilt? Pain? “I offered a deal,” he said. “Your father accepted it.” “And what do you get out of it?” Elena asked. “A servant? A pawn?” He stepped closer. “A wife. To break a curse.” She didn’t laugh. She couldn’t. Because something in her gut said he wasn’t lying.