The sound of the Douglas carriages' wheels echoed over the damp cobblestone, each impact making her heart pound harder. Emily leaned toward the window of the main hall, trying to keep her expression calm as the black banners—marked with the twin wolves—fluttered before Count Carter's mansion.
A chill ran down her spine. That elegant and majestic symbol was also a warning: many houses had fallen for defying the Douglas Duchy. Their lineage did not only command honor—it was a constant danger.
She took a deep breath and carefully smoothed the trembling lace of her dress. She had to appear composed. A Carter never showed fear, even if her heart pounded like a war drum inside her chest.
"Emily, please," her mother whispered, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Remember what's at stake."
Emily nodded without taking her eyes off the window.
"I know, Mother. Don't worry… I won't make any mistakes."
The sound of the main door cut through the silence. Sophia of Mondring, Duchess of the Douglas Duchy, crossed the threshold with firm steps, her imposing presence paired with a faint smile that felt colder than warm. Behind her walked Lusian, her son, dressed modestly, his composure betraying the weight of his lineage.
Emily noticed how the servants lowered their gaze automatically. The mere presence of the Douglas family filled the room with an invisible weight—an abyss between them and any other house, one no one dared to cross.
The greetings were measured, cordial, almost ceremonial. Soft words, tense smiles, calculated glances. Nothing was spontaneous; everything was a carefully rehearsed choreography of diplomacy and survival.
Emily forced herself to breathe steadily, though every fiber of her body remained alert. Every gesture, every movement from the Douglas family seemed to whisper that there was no room for error here. And she had to succeed.
Sophia spoke in a melodic, almost maternal tone, every word carefully chosen:
"My son has been looking forward to this meeting. It is an honor for us to form ties with a family of such fine reputation."
Emily responded with a slight bow, controlling the tremor in her hands, keeping her voice firm but restrained:
"The honor is ours, Duchess. My family is grateful for the opportunity to welcome you into our home."
As the adults exchanged formalities, Emily felt the weight of Lusian's gaze on her. He, meanwhile, felt like running away at the sight of his future killer. It wasn't the cold arrogance she expected from a Douglas heir; there was something different—the look of someone studying poison before deciding whether to drink it.
Curious, Emily thought. He doesn't seem to enjoy this any more than I do.
Shortly after, Sophia—carrying that natural authority that required no effort—suggested the young ones take a walk through the gardens. Emily understood the unspoken message: they were meant to speak alone, to seal with words what would soon become a political bond rather than a chosen destiny.
She took a breath and led Lusian into the gardens, beneath a gray sky that threatened rain. The scent of lilacs lingered in the air, delicate like a veil, blending fragrance with silent tension.
Each step she took seemed to bring her closer not only to him… but to a future she still did not know how to face.