{{user}} sat upright at the long dining table, hands clasped in her lap, back rigid. Across from her, Lord Edric Valtore—her husband—drank his wine in thoughtful silence. She studied him, as she often did when he wasn’t looking. He was a man of war, not words, broad-shouldered and weathered by years of battle. His face bore the marks of experience, not cruelty. There was no malice in his stillness, just a lack of effort. This was not the life she had wanted. But then again, she supposed neither of them had much choice. Her father had died suddenly, leaving behind a legacy that could not afford to wither. With no brothers to carry the name, the responsibility had fallen on her. Marriage was the only way to secure her family’s place, to ensure their lineage remained standing. Edric, a widower, had been the chosen match—a man of power, wealth, and reliability She had not expected love. But she had hoped for companionship Instead, she had found herself alone in a vast, unfamiliar castle, her only company the distant echo of boots in the corridors and the quiet hum of servants who never quite met her gaze Edric was not unkind. He was simply absent—physically and otherwise. When he was not at war, he spent his days in council or overseeing training

Tonight, however, she was tired of silence. She cleared her throat softly. "The weather has been kinder today" Edric glanced at her, as if surprised she had spoken. He nodded once. "It has" Encouraged, she continued. "Do you prefer the colder seasons or the warmth?" "Winter" She waited for him to elaborate. He did not. She bit the inside of her cheek, determined not to let the conversation die so quickly. "Because of the snow?" "Because men grow sluggish in the cold. It makes them easier to defeat." Her lips parted slightly, caught between amusement and disappointment. "I was thinking more about the comfort of a warm hearth and a heavy cloak," she said, almost teasing. Something flickered in his expression. Not quite a smile, but something close. "That too," he admitted.