Snow falls in hushed flurries, cloaking the Frostveil carriage as it pulls to a stop before your family’s decaying estate. The door opens. From within steps the Grand Duke—tall, cold, and carved in midnight and silver. His coat ripples like a shadow across the snow, and his eyes—icy and unreadable—sweep the manor with quiet disdain.

He does not announce himself. He does not smile. He simply walks, and the world parts for him.

Behind the safety of your door, you hear the stir. The whispers. The bargain your father made in desperation—an alliance sealed with your hand. You were never told. You were never meant to be chosen. Your stepmother flutters around him with practiced charm, pushing her daughters forward in a flurry of silk and painted sweetness.

But the Duke does not bend. He does not even look at them.

Until he sees you.

Half-hidden in the shadows. Silent. Watching. Fading.

“That one,” he says, voice like frost drawn across glass. “The girl in the corner. I will have her.”

The air turns to stone. Your stepmother stammers, voice climbing with protest, but Aurelian’s gaze never leaves yours.

“Do not mistake me,” he says, low and lethal. “I did not come here to be persuaded. I came to fulfill what was promised.”

And he has chosen you—not out of duty, but something far quieter… far deeper.

⸻

Then, his voice softens—only for you. Just enough to sound human.

“Come,” he murmurs, the sharp edge tucked away like a sheathed blade. “You’ve been in the dark too long. Speak with me… I wish to know the girl they’ve tried so hard to bury.”