The carriage rattled over the cobblestones, the rhythmic sound doing nothing to calm the sheer panic exploding inside my chest.
No children. Ever.
I stared at the cold, unyielding face of the Duke. He was completely serious. His jaw was set in that stubborn, militaristic line I remembered so well. He truly believed his imperial blood was a curse, and he was determined to let it die with him.
My perfectly laid revenge plan had just crashed into a brick wall.
But as the initial panic began to fade, a tiny, nagging thought crawled into the back of my mind.
I looked at Cesare's rigid posture. I remembered the fierce, protective look in his eyes when he talked about not bringing a child into the political crossfire.
Wait.
Wait a damn minute.
My brain screeched to a halt, the gears violently shifting direction.
If Cesare del Marque despised his imperial blood so much that he adamantly refused to pass it on… if he truly believed having a child was handing them a death sentence… then how did Ornella have a baby bump in the dungeon?
It made zero sense.
If Ornella was his "first love," the one woman he cherished above all else, he would want to protect her. He wouldn't paint a giant, royal target on her pregnant stomach.
A cold, sharp realization washed over me.
In my past life, before she ever moved into the Duchy, Ornella de Lancaster wasn't known as Cesare's lover at first. She was the official fiancée of the Third Prince, the Emperor's younger brother, who had been confined to a wheelchair since childhood.
Whose baby was that? I thought, my heart hammering against my ribs. If Cesare refuses to have children to protect them, did he break his rule for her? Or... was Ornella lying?
I dug my fingernails into my palms. Whatever the truth was about the past life, it didn't change my current nightmare. I needed a royal baby to survive the purge in three years. And the terrifying man sitting across from me had just locked his royal vault and thrown away the key.
I had to adapt. Fast.
If I argued with him now, he would get suspicious. Women who married Dukes were supposed to desperately want heirs to secure their own power. If I pushed, he would see me as a greedy, calculating politician.
I needed to do the exact opposite.
I let out a long, shuddering sigh, allowing my tense shoulders to completely drop. I placed a pale hand over my heart and looked at him with eyes full of absolute, overwhelming relief.
"Oh, thank the Goddess," I breathed out, leaning back against the velvet cushions.
Cesare stopped staring out the window. His head snapped toward me. The terrifying, cold Duke of the North actually blinked. Twice.
"Excuse me?" he asked, his deep voice laced with genuine confusion.
"I was so scared, Your Grace," I whispered, pulling the lapels of his oversized military coat tighter around my neck like a protective blanket. I let a small, nervous laugh escape my lips. "I didn't want to say anything because I know it is a wife's duty to provide an heir, but... I was terrified of... you know."
I looked down at my lap, letting a soft blush creep up my cheeks. "The bedchamber. I am so small, and you are... very large. And very scary. I thought I was going to be forced."
Silence stretched across the carriage.
I peeked up through my eyelashes.
Cesare was staring at me like I had just grown a second head. He had clearly braced himself for a sobbing fit, a dramatic protest, or the furious shrieks of a greedy noblewoman angry that she couldn't secure his immense inheritance.
He had not prepared for a girl who looked like she had just dodged an assassin's blade.
"You are... relieved," Cesare said slowly.
For a split second, beneath the icy exterior, I swear I saw a flash of something else in his golden eyes. Was that... offense? Did the great, untouchable Duke of the North feel a tiny sting to his masculine pride because his new bride was absolutely thrilled not to sleep with him?
"More than relieved," I said, giving him a bright, blindingly innocent smile. "You are truly a kind man, Duke Cesare. Thank you for sparing me."
A muscle feathered in his jaw. He looked entirely derailed. The fearsome beast of the battlefield didn't know how to handle a delicate girl thanking him for his emotional distance.
"I am not kind," he muttered, crossing his arms over his broad chest and looking back out the window. But the tips of his ears, just barely visible beneath his jet-black hair, had turned a faint shade of pink.
Oh, this is going to be easier than I thought, I laughed internally. You are just a giant, heavily armed hedgehog.
The carriage slowed to a halt outside the gates of the la Blanche estate.
"We have arrived," Cesare said, his voice returning to its normal, flat baritone. He opened the carriage door and stepped out effortlessly into the cool night air.
He turned and offered me his large, gloved hand.
I placed my small hand in his, letting him help me down the steps. The moment my feet touched the gravel, I quickly reached for the clasp of his military coat to hand it back to him.
"Keep it for tonight," Cesare ordered, his hand briefly catching my wrist to stop me. "The wind is sharp. My aide will collect it tomorrow when he brings the official contract for you to sign."
I looked up at him, wrapped in his scent of pine and cold steel. "Will you not be bringing the contract yourself, Your Grace?"
"I have meetings at the Imperial Court," he said stiffly. He looked down at me, his golden eyes scanning my face one last time as if searching for a hidden dagger. Finding none, he gave a curt nod. "Goodnight, Lady Eris."
"Goodnight, my Duke," I whispered.
I watched his carriage disappear down the dark street before turning and walking into my family's estate. The moment the heavy wooden doors closed behind me, the fragile, innocent smile dropped from my face.
I let out a long, slow breath.
No children. I stomped up the stairs to my bedroom, throwing the heavy coat onto my mattress. I paced the floor, chewing on my thumbnail.
He wasn't going to touch me willingly. Which meant I was going to have to seduce a brick wall who actively hated the idea of reproducing.
"Fine," I muttered to the empty room. "If you won't come to me, Cesare, I will just have to make you lose your absolute, ironclad mind."
The next morning, the la Blanche estate was in a state of sheer hysteria.
My mother had practically ordered the maids to scrub the floors until they mirrored the ceiling. My father was pacing a hole into the drawing-room rug, waiting for the Duke's aide to arrive with the paperwork.
At exactly noon, a sharp knock echoed through the hall.
I sat calmly on the velvet sofa, wearing a simple white day-dress, sipping tea while my parents practically tripped over each other to greet the guest.
The doors to the drawing room opened.
A tall, exhausted-looking man with silver glasses and a stack of heavily sealed folders walked in. It was Sir Kael, Cesare's right-hand man and chief aide. I remembered him well; he was the only person in the Duchy who had ever treated me with a shred of basic human decency in my past life.
"Marquis la Blanche. Marchioness," Sir Kael bowed politely. He then turned his gaze to me. "Lady Eris. His Grace, the Duke, has sent the official marriage contract and the debt settlement papers."
"Yes, yes, of course! Please, sit!" my father blubbered, motioning to the table.
Sir Kael laid the papers out. I stood up and walked over, my eyes scanning the elegant, sharp handwriting. It was exactly as Cesare promised. The debts would be wiped out by Friday.
I picked up the quill, dipped it in ink, and signed my name on the dotted line.
Eris del Marque. The trap was officially set.
"Excellent," Sir Kael said, neatly gathering the documents. "His Grace also requested that you visit the Duchy estate this afternoon, Lady Eris. He wishes for you to select your personal chambers before you officially move in next week."
An hour later, I was riding in another dark carriage, heading toward the northern edge of the capital where the sprawling, intimidating Marque estate sat like a slumbering beast.
When I arrived, the Head Butler, a stern older man named Thomas, was waiting in the grand foyer to greet me.
"Welcome, Lady Eris," Thomas said, bowing stiffly. "I understand you are here to select your quarters. If you will follow me to the East Wing, it is traditionally reserved for the Duchess. It is quite peaceful, and furthest away from His Grace's offices, as he requested."
I didn't need a tour. I knew every freezing stone corridor, every drafty window, and every hidden servant's passage in this fortress. In my past life, I had lived in that exact East Wing. It was miles away from Cesare's quarters in the West Wing. I had spent an entire year sitting alone in those rooms, acting like a ghost while my husband ignored my existence.
"Ah," I said softly, coming to a stop at the base of the grand staircase. I wrapped my arms around myself, looking up at the high, shadowy ceilings. "The East Wing... is it very far from the Duke's rooms?"
Thomas blinked, looking mildly surprised. "Yes, My Lady. It is on the opposite side of the estate. His Grace values his solitude."
I bit my lower lip, letting my shoulders tremble just a fraction. I looked at Thomas with wide, deeply anxious blue eyes.
"I... I don't think I can sleep there, Mr. Thomas," I whispered, sounding thoroughly terrified. "This house is so large. And after what happened at the banquet with the Viscount... I am so frightened of being left alone in the dark."
The strict, professional mask on the old butler's face cracked. He looked at my pale, trembling figure, and a wave of grandfatherly pity washed over his features. "Oh. Well, My Lady, there are guards—"
"Please," I pleaded softly, stepping closer and looking up at him like he was my only salvation. "Is there not a room closer to His Grace? I know he said we would live separate lives, but... just knowing my protector is nearby would help me sleep. I promise I won't make a sound."
Thomas cleared his throat, clearly conflicted. The Duke's orders were absolute, but the girl in front of him looked like she might burst into tears if a shadow moved too fast.
"Well," Thomas hesitated. "There is the Winter Suite. It is in the West Wing. It actually shares a connecting door with His Grace's master bedroom. But no one has used it in decades."
Bingo. I gave him a watery, overwhelmingly grateful smile. "That sounds perfect. Thank you, Thomas. You are so kind."
As the butler turned to lead the way up the stairs to the West Wing, my trembling stopped.
I looked up at the corridor that led straight to my new husband's bedchamber, and a devious, wicked smirk crossed my face.
Separate lives? We'll see about that, Cesare.