Duke Morningstar led me to the Baron's private garden, a modest space with stone benches and winter-bare trees. His guards remained at a distance, close enough to intervene if needed, far enough to give us privacy.
"Sit," he commanded, gesturing to a bench.
I sat, which caused my injured ribs protesting the movement. The Duke remained standing, looking down at me with those steel-gray eyes that revealed nothing.
"Do you know why I arranged the marriage between you and my daughter?" he asked abruptly.
"A political alliance," I said. "The Morvan and Morningstar houses have complementary resources and territories."
"True. But not the whole truth." He began pacing, his massive frame somehow graceful despite its bulk. "I arranged it because every other suitor I considered was either too ambitious, too stupid, or too enamored with my daughter's looks to see the person beneath."
He stopped, turning to face me.
"You were none of those things. You were simply... nothing. A wastrel. A disappointment to your father. Someone so thoroughly unremarkable that I thought you'd be harmless. A husband in name only while Valerie pursued her own goals."
The words stung, but I couldn't argue with them. That's exactly what the original Chase had been.
"I was wrong," Duke Morningstar continued. "Either I misjudged you completely, or something fundamental changed. I'm not sure which concerns me more."
"Does it matter?" I asked. "I'm not that person anymore."
"Aren't you?" His eyes narrowed. "Men don't change overnight, Chase Morvan. Yet by all accounts, that's exactly what you did. One day you're a drunken bully, the next you're accepting a marriage someone of your type would have refused, training like your life depends on it, studying dungeon theory, and throwing yourself in front of dragons."
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to something dangerous.
"So I'll ask you once, and I expect the truth: What are you really after? What's your game?"
My heart pounded. This was it, the moment where everything could unravel. If Duke Morningstar decided I was a threat to his daughter, no amount of heroics would save me.
"I'm after a future," I said carefully. "One where I'm not a disappointment. Where I'm worthy of the name I carry and the woman I married."
"Such pretty words."
"They're true words." I met his gaze, refusing to look away. "You're right that I changed suddenly. Something happened that made me see my life clearly—see what I was wasting, what I was destroying. And I decided I couldn't live that way anymore."
"And my daughter? What is she to you? A convenient path to redemption?"
"No." The word came out harder than I intended. "She's everything. The reason I train until I can't stand. The reason I study until my eyes burn. The reason I threw myself in front of that dragon." I stood, ignoring the pain. "Your daughter is the best thing that ever happened to me, Duke Morningstar. And I will spend the rest of my life proving I'm worthy of her."
Silence stretched between us. The Duke studied me with those penetrating eyes, and I felt like every secret I held was laid bare.
Finally, he spoke.
"My wife died when Valerie was eight years old," he said quietly. "Due to childbirth complications. The baby didn't survive either." His jaw clenched. "Valerie blamed herself. She hought if she'd been a better daughter, if she had prayed harder, done more, somehow her mother would have lived."
I hadn't known that detail. The novel had mentioned Valerie's mother's death but it didn't mention anything about what happened.
"She built an emotional barrier after that," the Duke continued. "She became cold, focused, driven. She poured everything into training, into magic, into being perfect. Because if she was perfect, maybe nothing else she loved would die."
He turned to me.
"Those walls have kept her safe for twelve years. Protected her from hurt, from loss, from the pain of caring too much. And then you came along and started tearing them down."
"I didn't mean to—"
"I know. That's what terrifies me." His expression softened, just slightly. "Because I've seen how she looks at you now. Like you're her whole world. And if you break her heart, if you betray that trust, it will destroy her in ways no dragon ever could."
The weight of his words settled on my shoulders like iron.
"I won't," I said. "I swear it."
"You'd better not." He placed a hand on my shoulder, his grip gentle but firm. "Because if you do, there is nowhere in this kingdom you could hide from me. Am I clear?"
"Crystal."
The grip tightened for a moment, then released. Duke Morningstar's expression shifted, becoming almost... approving.
"Good. Then we understand each other." He gestured for me to walk with him. "Now, let's discuss the practical matters. You closed a dungeon rift, saved a town, and fought alongside the crown's chosen knight. That makes you valuable, politically speaking."
"I didn't do it for politics."
"I know. But politics doesn't care about your intentions." We walked along the garden path, the Duke's hands clasped behind his back. "The crown will hear about this. They'll want to acknowledge your service. Probably offer you some token position or title."
"I don't need—"
"You'll accept it," he interrupted. "Because refusing would be an insult, and because Valerie's future is tied to yours now. The stronger your position, the stronger hers."
He was right, of course. Everything was connected in the web of noble politics.
"There's also the matter of William Stone," the Duke continued. "The reports say you two fought together. Cooperated, even."
"We did what was necessary."
"Interesting, considering the reports I've received about your past interactions with him." The Duke's eyes cut to me. "You used to torment that boy. Make his life hell. Now you're fighting side by side. Another dramatic change."
"People can change," I said. "Both in how they act and how they're perceived."
"Can they?" He stopped walking. "Or are you simply better at hiding who you really are?"
The question hung in the air, challenging.
"I guess time will tell," I said.
Duke Morningstar studied me for another long moment, then nodded. "Yes. Time will tell indeed." He started walking back toward the manor. "One more thing, Chase Morvan."
"Yes?"
"Thank you." His voice was rough with emotion. "For protecting my daughter. For being there when I couldn't. For..." He paused. "For making her smile again. I haven't seen her truly happy in years. Not until I saw her with you this morning."
The admission seemed to cost him something.
"I love her," I said simply. "That's not going to change."
"See that it doesn't." He clapped me on the shoulder once more, then his expression shifted back to its usual stern mask. "Now come. We have much to discuss about the eastern territories and what this dungeon closure means for trade routes."
---
The rest of the day was consumed by meetings and planning. Baron Ashford wanted to personally thank everyone involved. Duke Morningstar discussed business opportunities now that the region was safe again. William gave his formal report to the crown's representative who had arrived that morning.
Through it all, Valerie stayed close to me. Not hovering, but present. Her hand would occasionally brush mine, or she'd catch my eye across the room and offer a small smile.
It felt simple and comfoi. Like we were a real couple instead of a marriage of convenience that had somehow become something more.
Evening found us finally alone in our room. I sat on the bed, carefully removing my armor—still sore despite Father Aldric's healing.
"My father likes you," Valerie said from where she stood by the window.
"He threatened to hunt me down if I hurt you."
"That means he likes you. If he didn't care, he wouldn't bother with threats." She turned to face me. "What did you two talk about?"
"You. The future. Politics." I set aside the last piece of armor. "And your mother."
Valerie stiffened. "What about her?"
"He told me how she died. How you blamed yourself."
"He had no right—"
"He was explaining why you build walls. Why you don't let people in." I stood, walking over to her. "And why it matters that you let me in."
She looked away. "I didn't mean to. Let you in, I mean. It just... happened."
"I'm glad it did."
"Are you?" She turned back to me, vulnerability clear in her crimson eyes. "Because sometimes I wonder if I'm making a terrible mistake. If trusting you will end the way everything else I've cared about has ended."
"It won't."
"You can't promise that."
"No," I admitted. "But I can promise I'll fight like hell to make sure it doesn't. That I'll be here, every day, proving you didn't make a mistake."
She was quiet for a moment. Then: "My father asked me if I loved you."
"What did you tell him?"
"The truth. That I do." She stepped closer. "He asked if I was sure. If I truly knew you. If maybe this was just... proximity. Shared danger creating false intimacy."
"What did you say?"
"I said..." She took my hands. "I said that I've never been more certain of anything. That when I thought I might lose you in that valley, when I saw you broken and bleeding, I knew. That I loved you"
I pulled her close, and she came willingly, wrapping her arms around me.
"I'm sorry I scared you," I murmured into her hair.
"I'm sorry I fell for someone reckless enough to fight dragons."
"In my defense, it was only half a dragon."
She laughed sweetly, a genuine laugh that made my chest warm. "You're impossible."
"But you love me anyway."
"But I love you anyway," she agreed.
We stood like that for a long while, just holding each other. Outside, the sun set over Ashford, painting the sky in shades of red and gold. The town was safe. The dungeon was closed. The future had changed from what the novel had written.
And somehow, impossibly, I'd found something worth more than survival.
"Chase?" Valerie's voice was soft.
"Yeah?"
"Don't ever leave me."
"Never," I promised. "Not in this life or any other."
She looked up at me, and in her eyes I saw trust, love, and something that looked like hope.
Then she kissed me, and for that moment, nothing else mattered.
Not William's lingering hatred. Not the political complications to come. Not the future disasters I still needed to prevent.
Just this. Just us.
And for now, that was enough.