Chapter 2: A Pact Forged in Ice
The Cold Duke's words hung in the frosty air between us, a threat so palpable it felt like the blade of a knife pressed against my skin. You will wish the executioner had found you first. I believed him. The absolute zero in his storm-grey eyes promised a creativity in cruelty that a simple beheading could never match.
My new body, Seraphina's body, was trembling. I willed it to stop, clenching my hands at my sides until my perfectly manicured nails bit into my palms. The sharp pain grounded me. This was not the time for the villainess's trademark hysterics. This was a negotiation for my life, and I was a woman from a world where information was the ultimate currency.
"I understand your terms, Your Grace," I said, forcing my voice to remain level, devoid of the tremor that threatened to betray me. "Truth and utility. In return, you grant me the protection of your name and your title. A simple transaction."
He watched me, his expression unchanging. He was a man carved from winter itself. Tall and broad-shouldered, he seemed to absorb the moonlight rather than reflect it. His hair was the color of a starless midnight, swept back from a face of severe, aristocratic angles—a sharp jaw, a blade-straight nose, and lips that were currently set in a hard, unforgiving line. He was immaculately dressed in a black military-style coat trimmed with silver, the epitome of lethal, restrained power. He was the most terrifyingly beautiful man I had ever seen, and every instinct screamed to run.
"A transaction implies trust," he stated, his voice a low rumble. "I do not trust you, Lady Seraphina. I am investing in a possibility. A gamble. One I can easily afford to lose, and you cannot."
The casual dismissal of my life should have angered me. Instead, it fueled my resolve. He saw me as a pawn. Good. Let him. Pawns could be moved into positions of power.
"Then let us make it a binding gamble," I countered. "We will have a contract drawn up. The terms will be clear. My information for your protection. The moment I fail to deliver, you are free of me."
A flicker of something—surprise? amusement?—passed through his eyes so quickly I might have imagined it. "You would put your fate into a legal document?"
"I would put my faith in your renowned sense of honor, Your Grace," I said, layering the words with a deference I didn't feel. It was a calculated move. The novels always spoke of his rigid, unforgiving code. "I am told a Blackwood's word is his bond. I am simply asking for that word to be made explicit."
He was silent for a long moment, his gaze sweeping over me from head to toe, as if reassessing the spoiled socialite he thought he knew. I held my breath.
"Very well," he said finally. "My solicitor will call upon your father tomorrow. The engagement will be announced by week's end. We will be married within the month and depart immediately for the North."
The relief that washed over me was so potent it left me dizzy. I'd done it. I had changed the plot. I had bought myself time.
But his next words doused that fleeting warmth.
"Do not mistake this for a rescue, my lady," he said, his tone dropping back into its glacial register. "You have traded one gilded cage for another. The bars of mine are simply made of ice and are far, far colder."
He didn't wait for a reply. He offered a curt, minimal bow, a motion so devoid of respect it was almost another insult, and turned on his heel. He left me standing alone on the balcony, the cold seeping through the thin silk of my emerald gown.
I watched his retreating back as he disappeared into the bright, noisy ballroom, a shadow swallowed by the light. The sounds of music and laughter seemed to rush back in, a stark contrast to the silent, life-altering pact we had just made.
I was no longer the condemned villainess. I was the future Duchess of the North.
And as I stood there, shivering in the cold, the Duke's final warning echoed in my mind. A gilded cage of ice. I had escaped the executioner's block only to throw myself into the arms of a man who might well be more dangerous.
The game was on. And I had just made my first, desperate move.