The moment that voice echoed through the ballroom, everything came to a halt.
Luca and Aurelia turned toward its source—and what Luca saw made his spine instinctively straighten.
A man stood there, towering like a mountain. Broad as a bear, with a mane of red hair streaked with white and a thick beard to match. His very presence radiated power, age-weathered yet unyielding. He looked to be in his mid-forties, but Luca knew better.
The Iron Duke.
The same man who had defended the Empire's borders for sixty years.
Despite the immense pressure weighing on him, Luca gave a deep, respectful bow. "I am Luca Valentine, Your Grace—the Iron Duke."
But the pressure didn't ease. If anything, it increased, like a vice tightening around his shoulders.
Luca kept his composure, raising his head and squaring his back. Beside the Iron Duke stood two more men—one in his thirties, with slicked-back blonde hair and a face carved from steel. Aurelia's father, Luca guessed.
