I met his gaze without hesitation.
That's exactly why I chose you. "I am prepared," I whispered, lowering my eyelashes so he wouldn't see the absolute, cold calculation in my eyes. "I will be whatever you need me to be, Your Grace."
Cesare stared at me for a second longer, his golden eyes searching my face. Then, he let out a short, quiet sigh.
He dropped his hand from my bruised arm. Before I could process what he was doing, his large, warm fingers wrapped securely around my uninjured wrist.
"Come," he ordered.
He didn't wait for me to agree. Cesare turned on his heel and marched right back into the glaring lights of the Imperial Ballroom, dragging me behind him like a freshly rescued kitten.
I had to practically jog to keep up with his massive strides. "Wait—Your Grace, where are we going?"
"To your father," Cesare replied bluntly, not slowing down.
The ballroom parted for him like the Red Sea. Nobles scrambled out of our way, spilling their own champagne in their haste to avoid the Duke of the North. I could hear the whispers erupting around us like fireworks.
"Is that the la Blanche girl?"
"Why is the Duke touching her?"
"Did you see what happened with Viscount Aris?"
I kept my head down, letting my shoulders curl inward. To the crowd, I looked like a terrified, embarrassed girl being hauled away by a monster. Internally, I was doing a victory dance.
Hook, line, and sinker. We reached the edge of the dance floor, where my parents were currently standing. My father, Marquis Alistair, was sweating so profusely he looked like he had just run a marathon. My mother, Genevieve, had her fan clutched so tightly in her hand I thought the ivory handle might snap.
When they saw Cesare marching directly toward them with me in tow, my father actually swayed on his feet.
"Y-Your Grace!" Alistair stammered, bowing so fast he nearly toppled over. "Duke del Marque. Has... has my daughter offended you? I assure you, whatever she has done, she is young and clumsy—"
"She hasn't offended me," Cesare interrupted. His voice was flat, devoid of any social pleasantries. "She proposed to me."
My mother choked on her own breath.
"She... she what?" Alistair whispered, his eyes bulging out of his head. He looked back and forth between Cesare's imposing figure and my trembling, tear-stained face.
"I am accepting," Cesare continued, completely ignoring my parents' impending heart attacks. "Send the preliminary marriage paperwork to my estate by noon tomorrow. I will have my lawyers draft the official settlement to clear the la Blanche debts by Friday."
Genevieve dropped her fan. It hit the marble floor with a loud clack.
"Your Grace," my mother gasped, her political instincts finally rebooting. "Are you... are you serious? A marriage? But the Emperor's mediators haven't even—"
"I don't care about the mediators," Cesare said, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. The sheer authority radiating from him made both my parents snap their mouths shut. "Lady Eris is under my protection now. If Viscount Aris, or anyone else from the central nobility, approaches her again, you will tell them they are answering to the North. Am I understood?"
"Y-Yes, absolutely, Your Grace!" Alistair squeaked.
Cesare gave a curt nod. Then, without another word to my bewildered parents, he tugged on my wrist. "Let's go."
"Go?" I asked, perfectly pitching my voice to sound breathless and confused. "Go where?"
"You're shaking," Cesare said simply. "And you have wine on your shoes. You are leaving."
He didn't ask if I wanted to leave. He just marched me straight toward the grand exit of the Imperial Palace.
The moment we stepped out into the cool night air, the suffocating scent of the ballroom vanished, replaced by crisp wind and the smell of the palace gardens. A massive, midnight-black carriage with the silver crest of the Marque Duchy was already waiting at the bottom of the steps.
Cesare stopped. He unclasped the heavy, pitch-black military coat from his shoulders.
With a sweeping motion, he draped it over me.
The coat was ridiculously huge. It swallowed me whole, the hem dragging on the stone steps. It was heavy, lined with thick fur, and it smelled intensely of him—winter pine, cold steel, and that faint, sharp scent of ozone that always clung to high-level aura users.
My stomach violently rolled.
In my past life, this was the coat he had wrapped around Ornella when she complained about the dampness of the dungeons.
I dug my nails into my palms to stop myself from ripping it off and throwing it in his face. Instead, I pulled the lapels tighter around my neck, looking up at him with wide, grateful eyes.
"Thank you, Your Grace," I whispered.
Cesare looked away, clearing his throat. "Get in the carriage. I will take you back to your estate."
The inside of his carriage was like a velvet cave. It was dark, soundproof, and excessively luxurious. Cesare sat on the bench opposite me, his long legs stretched out, taking up most of the space.
As the carriage jerked into motion, the silence between us stretched.
I kept my head bowed, pretending to be overwhelmed by his coat. I was waiting for the interrogation. A man as paranoid as Cesare didn't just accept a random proposal without laying down the law.
Sure enough, a few minutes into the ride, he spoke.
"Let us be clear about what this is, Lady Eris."
His voice was businesslike. The protective, territorial edge from the balcony was gone, replaced by the cold, calculating Duke of the North.
I looked up, doing my best to look eager to please. "Yes, Your Grace?"
"Your family is drowning in debt. Your father's title is practically useless, and you were desperate enough to use me as a shield against the border lords," Cesare stated, laying out the facts with brutal precision. "I understand the transaction. I will pay your family's debts. I will give you the title of Grand Duchess, and I will ensure no one in high society ever raises a hand to you again."
He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. The shadows of the carriage made his golden eyes look like glowing embers.
"In exchange," Cesare continued softly, "I expect complete peace. I deal with the Emperor's paranoia and border wars all day. When I return to my estate, I want quiet. I do not want a wife who meddles in my politics. I do not want a woman who expects romance, poetry, or grand declarations of love. We will live separate lives under the same roof. Can you do that?"
I had to suppress the massive, genuine smile trying to break across my face.
Separate lives? No romance? You just handed me the easiest job in the world, Duke.
"I understand completely, Your Grace," I said softly, looking down at my hands. "I do not need romance. I only want a safe place to rest. I will never interfere with your business, and I will be a perfectly invisible Duchess."
Cesare studied me for a long moment. He seemed almost surprised by how easily I agreed. Most noblewomen would have thrown a fit at the prospect of a loveless marriage.
"Good," Cesare murmured, leaning back into the velvet cushions. He looked relieved. "Then the contract will be simple."
I let out a soft breath, my mind already racing ahead.
Step two is complete. The marriage was secured. My family's debts would be wiped out. Now, all I had to do was survive the wedding, move into his estate, and execute step three which is securing the royal heir.
If I played the devoted, fragile wife well enough, I could easily get him into my bed once. Just once was all I needed to secure my pregnancy and trigger the absolute immunity of Imperial Decree Article Four. After that, he could go play with Ornella all he wanted.
"There is, however, one final condition," Cesare said, his voice cutting through the dark carriage and shattering my thoughts.
I blinked, looking up at him. "A condition?"
Cesare turned his head to look out the window. His jaw was clenched, a sudden, dark shadow passing over his expression.
"The title of Duchess is yours. The wealth is yours. But we will share a bed in name only," Cesare said flatly, his voice brokering absolutely no argument.
My heart skipped a beat. "In name only?"
"I have the Emperor's blood in my veins," Cesare said, his golden eyes flicking back to me. They were entirely devoid of warmth. "My bloodline is a curse. It brings nothing but assassination attempts, paranoia, and political purges. I refuse to bring a child into that crossfire."
He looked me dead in the eye, delivering the final, crushing blow.
"I will never sire an heir, Eris. Do not expect children from me. Ever."
The carriage rattled over a cobblestone.
I sat there, frozen, the oversized military coat suddenly feeling like a lead weight dragging me straight back down to the execution pyre.
No children.
If there was no child... there was no royal blood.
If there was no royal blood... there was no absolute immunity.
And if there was no absolute immunity... my family and I were going to burn all over again in exactly three years.
I stared at the cold, unyielding face of my new fiancé, my perfectly laid revenge plan crashing into a million pieces at his feet.
Well, I thought, suppressing the urge to hysterically scream. It looks like I am going to have to seduce a monster.