A FEW WEEKS AGO, in the hot, harsh wind in the peninsula, dust swept across the wide expanse of the estate as multiple horses rode through. At the center stood a rugged, old villa.
The people in the cottages stared at the approaching riders. These men moved as if they had every right to be here. Their presence was dark. Ominous.
"Hey, this is the Oshens' estate—!"
The man never finished his sentence. A rider swung his sword in one fluid motion, and the man's head flew off as if it were a ball and the blade a paddle. The rider was an extremely handsome man with dark eyes that held no shadow of light. People lowered their heads in fear.
Dorian looked down at them as they cowered on their knees. "The Varyn Duchy now owns this entire place," he said. "If anyone has a problem with that, feel free to speak up."
No one spoke.
Of course, they wouldn't.
Fear ignited the moment the word Varyn was uttered. Look what happened to that man. They also knew the duke had notorious reputation for ruthlessness. At the border, he had hung the heads of barbarian generals from the towering gates.
Dorian remained untouched by their reverence. "Vacate the manor," he said. "And bring every woman to me."
The people were horrified. Had the Oshens offended the Varyns so deeply that now their lands were seized, and their women taken as well?
Truly, the duke is cruel.
Immediately, terrified women were brought to the manor. Except for one. She didn't seem afraid. She looked at the handsome man before her and smiled.
"Your Grace, I'm the person you're looking for," she said. "On my belly is the map of what you want."
Dorian's eyes remained unreadable.
"You know what I want?"
"To be honest, no," she said with a soft smile. "But the person who inked the map on my belly was a servant—once a royal maid. She said that one day, people would come looking for it."
"How strange," Dorian said, his lips curving slightly, "to put a map on your body."
But Dorian already knew this woman's role. She was meant to distract: a pretty face designed to weaken any man searching for the seal. People long dead had set traps for whoever came looking for the seal.
"If you take me as your wife…"
"You're ambitious," he said coldly. "But your body won't get you there. Neither will your bloodline."
"Your Grace, the princes are weak. None of them can lead. But you—" Her voice grew eager. "I could make you emperor."
He cut her off with a sharp laugh. "You're gravely mistaken if you think I have such boring ambitions. And even if I did—" His eyes hardened. "I could marry a beggar off the street and still take the throne."
His cold, obsidian gaze made her hands tremble. Meanwhile, Chin, the head guard, approached and whispered, "But Your Grace, isn't she the long-lost granddaughter of the former Crown Prince Elrik Aurelio."
Prince Elrik had been the fifth prince, greatly favored by the late Emperor the Fifteenth. But when the emperor died suddenly, the Second Prince seized power and became the current emperor. The crown prince and his entire family were slaughtered.
"I know," Dorian said.
"She could be useful for our goals, Your Grace. We want the Ubian lands so badly, so—" Bern began, but stopped abruptly when Dorian shot him a deadly sideways glance.
"Get a copy of the map on her belly," Dorian said. "Then dispose of her. Better Kael never find her."
"Y-your Grace! Only through me can you build something great. Please, I—"
"You think your bold proposal makes you admirable?" He cut her off with a sharp glance. "You won't have me simply because you've shown a little courage."
He left.
Afterward, he climbed a hilly mountain and looked down at the people below, kneeling, lined up in rows. And suddenly, Dorian thought: any of these people could be spies.
Later, when a Sinopia guard came up to report, Dorian ordered the execution of everyone. Soon, the air grew thick with the smell of blood. Groans and moans echoed across the plain.
"Spread a rumor," he said with his final order. "Make sure no one knows why we were here."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Later, nearby villages heard the rumors: Duke Varyn had slaughtered the men, taken the women for his pleasure, and then killed them too. The news spread, and terrified whispers followed everywhere. No one dared speak the duke's name aloud after that.
...
A WEEK LATER, Dorian had a dream. He was broken. Angry. And that woman—the one from the peninsula—had become his paramour.
As if the dream had truly happened.
Ridiculous.
Because he was broken? Had Nyasia rejected him? Was that why he had crawled into another woman's bed? Did she disappear?
That was why, even after he had contracted a fever, from spending too many hours analyzing the map, he still pushed himself to return. The moment he was back, he made a marriage proposal. Official. Be damned the Rashets if they wouldn't let him have her.
Then his gaze went down.
He was now in the Paragon Hall.
Nyasia's head was resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her back. She looked like a kitten curled in his large embrace.
The thought that she might not be his wife no matter what rattled him. Had he become such a monstrous creature that some god would make her marry someone else? Or make her disappear entirely?
The hell with this dream.
...
NYASIA FELT something grazing her arm—fingers trailing along her waist. She slowly opened her eyes and found his lips on the curve of her bent leg.
Her cheeks flamed.
"What are you doing—"
He was on top of her in an instant, his mouth crashing into hers, stealing her breath. She went momentarily still, stunned.
Then he stopped. Cupped her face.
"Now you're awake."
"It's the middle of the night!"
He chuckled. "Should we do this in the afternoon, then?"
Her mouth curved, as if challenged.
"At least don't do it while I'm asleep!"
Then, she kissed him.
*