Elara's POV
The carriage hit another bump, throwing me against the hard wooden seat.
I bit back a curse and gripped the edge tighter. We'd been traveling for two days, and my husband hadn't spoken a single word to me. Hadn't even looked at me.
He rode ahead on that massive black horse, always just out of sight around the next bend. Like he couldn't stand being near me. Like I was poison.
The guards surrounding the carriage were just as bad. They never smiled, never talked. When I tried asking questions—Where are we? How much longer? Can I please have some water?—they stared straight ahead like I didn't exist.
And the maid they'd assigned to travel with me...
I glanced at the girl huddled in the corner of the carriage, as far from me as possible. She was maybe seventeen, with mousy brown hair and eyes that wouldn't meet mine. Every time I tried to speak to her, she flinched.
"Please," I tried again, keeping my voice gentle. "Can you at least tell me your name?"
She pressed herself harder against the wall, shaking her head frantically.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I just want—"
"Don't talk to me!" The words burst out of her like she'd been holding them in too long. "Please, my lady. They said... they said anyone who gets close to you dies too. I have a family. I can't—" Her voice broke. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. But please don't talk to me."
Something cracked inside my chest. Even the servants thought I was cursed now.
I turned to the window, blinking back angry tears. I wouldn't cry. I'd cried enough in foster care, enough when my mom died, enough when I realized no one was coming to save me.
I was done crying.
The sun began setting on the second day, painting the sky blood red. Finally, the carriage slowed and stopped. Through the window, I saw a small inn—the kind of place that looked like it hadn't been updated in centuries. Because it probably hadn't.
Guards opened the carriage door. "We stop here for the night, my lady."
I climbed out on shaking legs. Two days of sitting had made my whole body ache. The maid scrambled out after me and immediately ran toward the inn without looking back.
I stood alone in the dirt road, watching my husband dismount from his horse.
He still wore that silver mask. Still moved like every action was calculated. A guard approached him, and the duke nodded once, then walked into the inn.
Without even glancing in my direction.
Rage bubbled up inside me, hot and fierce.
For two days, I'd sat in that carriage wondering when he'd kill me. Wondering what horrible death waited at the end of this journey. Wondering if I'd scream like the others supposedly had.
But you know what? I was tired of wondering. Tired of being afraid. Tired of waiting for someone else to decide my fate.
If he was going to kill me, he could at least have the guts to look me in the eye first.
I marched toward the inn, ignoring the guards who tried to intercept me. "Where is he?"
One guard stepped in my path. "My lady, the duke has requested—"
"I don't care what he requested. Where. Is. He?"
The guard's eyes widened slightly. Then he pointed to a door at the end of the hallway. "The private dining room, but—"
I was already walking.
My hands were shaking—from fear or anger, I couldn't tell anymore. Maybe both. But I'd made it this far. Survived being ripped from my world, sold by my own father, married to a stranger everyone said was a monster.
I wasn't going to die cowering.
I shoved open the door.
The duke sat at a table, his mask still in place, a glass of wine untouched in front of him. When I burst in, he went completely still.
"Are you going to kill me?" The words exploded out of me.
Silence. He just stared, those ice-blue eyes unreadable behind the mask.
"Everyone says you kill your brides," I continued, my voice getting louder. "So if you're going to do it, just get it over with! I'm tired of waiting for the axe to drop. I'm tired of riding in that carriage wondering if tonight's the night. I'm tired of—"
"Leave." His voice was like gravel, rough and cold. "Before I change my mind about your survival."
"Where would I go?" My voice cracked, but I pushed forward. "I'm trapped in a world 800 years before I was born! Sold by a father who doesn't give a damn if I live or die! Married to a man everyone says is a monster! So no—I'm not leaving. If you want me gone, you'll have to kill me yourself!"
For a long moment, he just looked at me. Really looked at me, not through me.
Then he spoke, and his voice was different. Quieter. Almost... curious.
"You're different from the others."
"I'm from a different world." The words tumbled out before I could stop them. "Literally."
The duke went very, very still. "What did you say?"
And suddenly I realized what I'd done. I'd just told a stranger—a dangerous stranger—the one secret that could get me burned as a witch.
But I was so tired of lying. So tired of being afraid.
"Los Angeles," I said, my voice steadier now. "California. 2024. My father—Baron Aldric—used magic to pull me here. Some kind of coin that burned my hand and..." I gestured helplessly. "And now I'm here. In whatever year this is. About to die because some emperor decided you needed a wife and my father decided I was disposable."
The silence stretched so long I thought he wouldn't respond.
Then the duke stood. He was tall—taller than I'd realized. He moved toward me with measured steps, and every instinct screamed at me to run.
I stood my ground.
He stopped just inches away. Close enough that I could see his eyes clearly now—not just cold, but tired. Ancient with pain.
"Prove it," he said quietly.
"What?"
"Prove you're from another time. Another world." He pulled off one glove slowly. "Tell me something impossible."
My mind raced. What could I say that would convince him without sounding insane?
"Germs," I blurted. "Tiny organisms you can't see that cause disease. You can kill them with alcohol or by boiling water. That's why people get sick—not because of bad air or curses, but because of microscopic bacteria and viruses."
His hand froze halfway to his side.
"And electricity," I continued, gaining confidence. "Lightning captured in wires that can power lights and machines. And cars—horseless carriages that run on engines. And the internet, where information travels instantly across the entire world through invisible signals—"
"Stop." He held up his bare hand.
I stopped, breathing hard.
The duke stared at me like I was a puzzle he couldn't solve. Then, slowly, he reached out and touched my cheek—the same cheek Aldric had slapped.
The moment his skin met mine, he jerked back like he'd been burned.
But not in pain.
In shock.
"Impossible," he whispered, staring at his hand. Then at me. "The curse should—you shouldn't—"
"What curse?" My heart pounded. "What are you talking about?"
He looked at me with something I hadn't seen in those cold eyes before.
Fear.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "What are you?"
"I told you. I'm just—"
"You're not just anything." He grabbed my shoulders, and I felt it—a strange warmth where he touched me, like static electricity but gentler. "My curse burns anyone I touch. It's burned for ten years. But you..." He stared at his hands like they'd betrayed him. "You don't hurt. Your touch doesn't hurt."
My breath caught. "Is that why you wear the mask? Because of a curse?"
"I wear the mask because I'm a dead man pretending to be alive." His voice was bitter. "And you—"
The door burst open.
A guard stood there, face pale. "My lord! Riders approaching fast. They're wearing the Emperor's colors."
The duke released me immediately, his whole body going rigid. "How many?"
"Twenty. Maybe more."
"Assassins," the duke said flatly. He turned to me. "Get to your room. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone but me."
"What? Why—"
"They're here to kill you." His ice-blue eyes locked with mine. "The Emperor doesn't want me to have a bride who survives. Now move!"