The cell was quiet, save for the slow drip of water echoing from the far wall. It had been dripping all night. Maybe longer. Time didn’t move the same down here. Cold stone, rusted iron, and the scent of forgotten lives — that was all Lady Elira Valestria had left.

She sat in the corner, her once ivory gown stained with blood and dirt, her long silver hair matted at the ends. Her hands, bound at the wrists, trembled only when she wasn’t paying attention. But she was always paying attention. Because if she let herself fall apart now, she feared there would be nothing left to gather.

The guards used to whisper when they walked past her cell.

“The poisoner,” they called her. “Snake in a noble’s skin.”

Now they didn’t speak at all. The empire had made up its mind. The villainess would die tomorrow at dawn.

Elira didn’t cry. That would’ve been easier. It would have meant she still believed someone, anyone, would come for her. But she knew better.

Cassian wouldn’t. He had left her in the courtroom, eyes wide with fear, not love.

Her father had sent no letter.

Her mother had likely fainted for the performance and gone back to bed.

The truth didn’t matter. The truth was quiet. And no one listened to quiet things.

She had been framed — that much she was certain of. But she also knew that in the eyes of the court, certainty without power was just a prettier word for delusion.

She closed her eyes. The memory came again.

---

The banquet. The prince. The scream. The cup. The fall.

She hadn’t touched his glass. She hadn’t even looked at the crown prince, yet he had collapsed mid-toast — and the room turned on her like wolves catching the scent of blood.

Princess Seraphine had screamed her name.

Cassian had dropped her hand.

And Elira... had smiled.

Not because she was guilty. But because it was the only thing she could do to keep her face from cracking in front of them all. The villainess had smiled as her world shattered. How appropriate.

---

A sudden clink broke her trance. She opened her eyes slowly. A key turned in the cell door. She didn’t move. It was probably the warden. Maybe he wanted to gloat one last time.

But the figure who stepped in was... not a guard.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. A dark military coat lined in gold. His presence filled the space like thunder in a chapel.

Elira stared, unable to keep the surprise from her voice. “...Duke Leonhart?”

Kael Leonhart. The Empire’s war hero. The man known as the Northern Wolf. What could he possibly want from her?

“I wasn’t aware the execution drew celebrity attention,” she said coldly.

He said nothing. Just walked closer, the click of his boots sharp against the stone. When he stood before her, he looked down with eyes like onyx — still, unreadable.

“I’ve come to offer you a deal.”

She laughed, bitter and hoarse. “Is that what nobles are calling pity visits now?”

“I don’t pity you, Lady Valestria,” he said plainly. “You’re not the type who deserves pity.”

“Then I must not deserve much at all.”

His gaze flicked toward the dried blood on her gown, then to the bruises on her wrists. His voice dropped, just a little. “You don’t deserve what they did to you, either.”

Elira narrowed her eyes. “Say what you mean, Duke. I’m not in the mood for poetry.”

“I believe you were framed,” Kael said, without hesitation.

That silenced her.

She blinked once. “Why?”

“Because poison has a trail. And I’ve followed it. The servant who fetched the wine that night never existed in the palace records. The cup was placed by someone else. The one truly responsible vanished before dawn.”

He crouched before her, his face now level with hers. “And because I’ve seen what the Empire does to women like you — too sharp, too quiet, too noble. They either marry you off to silence you or execute you to make an example.”

Her throat burned. She didn’t want to believe him. Couldn’t afford to.

“So what?” she said, barely above a whisper. “What do you want in return for this... belief?”

Kael stood. “Your name. Your cooperation. And your silence — for now.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Explain.”

“I’m being forced into marriage by the Emperor. The throne wants to keep my bloodline loyal. But I have no intention of becoming another pawn. So, I’ll marry you instead — a woman they believe is broken and disgraced.”

Elira gave a cold laugh. “You want to save your political freedom by tying yourself to a woman they’re about to execute?”

He didn’t flinch. “They’ll delay the sentence if I propose. It will buy time. Time I can use to gather more evidence. And if I’m right, we can expose the entire conspiracy.”

She shook her head slowly. “You’re asking me to play wife. Again.”

He paused. “I’m offering you a choice. Die as a villainess, or live as one — and eventually prove you never were.”

The room spun. Her hands trembled now, despite her best effort. She looked down, then back up. “You’re insane.”

“Likely.”

“Arrogant.”

“Definitely.”

She stared at him for a long moment. The idea was ridiculous. Dangerous. But for the first time in days, the ice inside her chest cracked — just slightly.

A sliver of warmth.

A sliver of something like… hope.

“If I agree,” she said slowly, “I want full control over my public image. You’ll give me protection, a sword at my side, and the power to choose which court rats I burn first.”

Kael didn’t smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “So you do bite.”

“Only when cornered,” she said softly.

He extended a gloved hand.

She looked at it for a long time — then, slowly, placed hers in his.

“Very well, Duke Leonhart,” she whispered. “Let’s show them what a villainess is truly capable of.”

The carriage jolted slightly as its wheels rolled over cobbled stone, but Elira didn’t react. She sat in silence, her wrists no longer chained but wrapped in elegant lace cuffs, courtesy of Kael’s order.

It had all happened so quickly.

One moment she was awaiting death in a prison cell — and the next, she stood in the Imperial Courtyard, her name being formally cleared “pending further investigation” thanks to Duke Leonhart’s personal guarantee.

The Emperor himself had raised an eyebrow when Kael made the announcement in front of the nobles.

“A marriage?” he’d said with a smirk. “You’ve always hated formal attachments, Leonhart.”

“I still do,” Kael had replied evenly, “but if my future wife is to be condemned without proof, I’d rather it be in my home — not your gallows.”

There had been silence after that.

No one challenged the Black Lion of the North. Not even the crown.

Now Elira sat across from him, the two of them alone in his private carriage, their future sealed by a signature and a royal decree.

And yet — she didn’t understand him. Not really.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t flirt. He didn’t even glance her way with anything close to curiosity.

He just... existed. Like a blade in its sheath — deadly and composed.

“Why?” she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Kael didn’t look up from the parchment he was reviewing. “Why what?”

“Why me?” Her voice was low. Controlled. “You could have picked a baron’s daughter. A foreign noblewoman. Even a peasant for show. But you picked the one woman the entire Empire hates.”

He finally looked at her. Those pitch-black eyes didn’t waver.

“Because the Empire hates you.”

Elira blinked. “That’s... the reason?”

“Yes. The more you’re hated, the less they expect. You’re underestimated. And underestimated people are useful — especially when we intend to outwit the crown.”

She stared at him, stunned by his honesty.

“And because,” he added, “you are innocent.”

She felt something stir in her chest at those words. Something raw and unfamiliar.

No one had said that to her. Not her father. Not Cassian. Not even her maid.

Only Kael.

“You’re insane,” she muttered.

“I’ve been called worse,” he said, folding the parchment and placing it inside a leather satchel. “Now listen carefully. From this moment on, you are no longer Elira Valestria, disgraced noble. You are the future Duchess Leonhart. Your every movement, word, and breath will be scrutinized.”

“I’ve been watched my whole life,” she said coolly.

“Not like this.”

The carriage came to a slow halt. Through the window, she saw the towering iron gates of House Leonhart’s estate — carved with wolves and swords, shrouded by mist. Guards in black and crimson uniforms saluted as the carriage passed.

Kael stood and offered her his hand. “Are you ready?”

Elira hesitated. Then, without a word, she placed her gloved hand in his.

---

✦

The estate was vast. Larger than her own family’s former home. Elira could hear the whispers already as they walked through the halls — servants pausing mid-step, eyes wide in disbelief.

She held her chin high.

Let them stare. Let them whisper.

She had survived the gallows. She would survive this too.

Kael led her into a private study, where a fire crackled in the hearth and shelves lined every wall, filled with maps, weapons, and bound volumes. A table in the center held a single item — a marriage contract.

“This is the official agreement,” Kael said, his voice low and business-like. “The Emperor will recognize it publicly at next week’s Winter Court gathering. You’ll need to memorize your role.”

Elira walked over and scanned the document.

Terms of Union:

Engagement duration: six months

No physical relationship required

Joint public appearances

Shared residence within the Duke’s estate

Full protection granted to Lady Elira under House Leonhart’s seal

Mutual discretion required

She scoffed. “So you’ve even written in a ‘no-touch’ clause.”

“I thought you’d appreciate it,” he said dryly.

“Oh, I do. But you missed one thing.”

Kael raised a brow.

She picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and wrote at the bottom:

> “Both parties retain the right to withdraw should love become inconvenient.”

Kael stared at her.

“I prefer to have an escape clause,” she said lightly. “In case emotions get messy.”

He didn’t smile, but the flicker in his eyes said he understood. He took the quill, signed beside her name, and sealed it with his crest.

It was done.

She was now engaged to Duke Kael Leonhart — the most feared man in the empire.

---

✦

That night, Elira was shown to her guest chambers — though “guest” was a stretch.

It was larger than any room she’d ever had. Velvet drapes, polished marble floors, and a balcony that overlooked a frozen lake. A maid helped her bathe and dress in a warm velvet gown before retreating with a bow.

She sat by the window, staring out at the snowy garden below.

She should’ve felt relieved. She was alive. She had a roof over her head. Her name wasn’t carved into a tombstone.

But all she could feel was… weight.

The weight of pretending.

The weight of betrayal.

And the weight of Kael’s gaze — always watching, always silent.

She didn’t trust him. Not yet.

But she’d seen something in him — something beneath the armor and the military stiffness.

Loneliness. Just like hers.

And maybe… just maybe… this dangerous alliance might be the only path they both had left.

---

✦

Meanwhile, in the royal palace...

Princess Seraphine stood by her mirror, brushing her golden hair. Her maid waited silently, holding a letter with Kael Leonhart’s crest.

“Is it true?” Seraphine asked, her voice sickeningly sweet.

“Yes, Your Highness,” the maid whispered. “The Duke has officially signed an engagement contract with Lady Elira.”

Seraphine’s hand paused. Slowly, she set the brush down.

Then she turned, her eyes cold. “Then we have a problem.”

She walked to her window and looked out over the glowing lights of the capital.

“I went through so much trouble to get rid of that woman,” she murmured. “And now she’s back — protected by him, no less.”

A cruel smile curved her lips.

“Let her play duchess for now. But I’ll remind her soon enough... that villains always die in the end.”

Elira adjusted the lace collar of her winter coat as she stood before the grand mirror. Snow drifted lazily past the tall windows behind her, casting silver light on the polished marble floor of her new chambers.

Duchess-to-be.

Even thinking it felt like trying on someone else’s skin.

Behind her, two maids from House Leonhart stood in silence, finishing her braid. They were efficient, respectful, and — most of all — quiet. They didn’t ask questions. They didn’t comment. They didn’t judge her for the chains she wore just days ago.

It was the first time in her life she’d been dressed without being gossiped about.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Both women bowed without a word and left the room.

Elira turned back to the mirror.

The woman staring back was a stranger. Pale, elegant, eyes sharpened like glass. She looked every inch the noble — but inside, her chest still felt hollow.

She picked up the black velvet gloves Kael had given her the night before and slipped them on. They were lined with silk, warm but fitted.

He had said nothing when he gave them to her. Just handed them over and walked away.

No comfort. No compliments. Just... protection.

That was Kael Leonhart in a single gesture.

---

By the time she stepped into the main hall, he was already waiting.

He stood near the doors, dressed in full military regalia — black and silver, sword at his side, hair neatly brushed back. His posture was perfect, his expression unreadable.

But when he saw her, something in his eyes flickered.

“You’re late,” he said.

“You’re early,” she replied.

A pause. Then the corner of his mouth twitched — almost a smile.

“We’re riding to the capital,” Kael said, offering his arm. “The Emperor wants to present our engagement personally. It’s a show of unity. Or control. Probably both.”

“And we’re playing along,” she murmured, sliding her arm through his.

“We’re rewriting the script.”

---

✦

The capital had changed since Elira last saw it.

Or maybe she had.

Banners of House Leonhart hung beside imperial flags as the carriage rolled through the noble quarter. Whispers followed them. Gasps. The slow-building storm of scandal reborn.

“Is that the villainess?”

“No — the duchess now, apparently.”

“He must be mad.”

Inside the carriage, Elira sat poised, chin lifted, eyes forward.

Kael didn’t speak for most of the ride. But when they neared the palace gates, he finally broke the silence.

“You’ll be tested today.”

“I expect nothing less.”

“They’ll try to provoke you — to expose weakness. Especially Seraphine.”

“Then I’ll wear silence as my weapon.”

He turned to look at her. Noticing her stiff hands.

“Nervous?”

She forced a smile. “No. Just furious.”

Kael gave a short nod. “Good. Hold onto that.”

---

✦

The Imperial Hall was filled to its brim with nobles. Gold-trimmed uniforms, silk gowns, jeweled masks — and behind it all, cruelty cloaked in charm.

Elira stepped onto the marble floor beside Kael, their engagement officially announced by the Emperor’s herald.

The crowd watched in stunned silence.

She met their gazes one by one. No fear. No apology.

Let them stare. Let them doubt.

She was still standing.

“Lady Elira,” came a saccharine voice, “I hardly recognized you.”

Seraphine.

Dressed in a gown of pearl and ice-blue, the princess glided toward her like a swan gliding over thin ice.

“You’ve... changed,” Seraphine said sweetly. “I expected chains, but here you are — a duchess.”

Elira offered a delicate curtsy. “And here I thought you’d be too busy plotting your next accusation to greet me.”

A few nobles gasped softly. Seraphine’s smile stiffened.

Kael stepped forward, placing a light but firm hand at Elira’s back. His voice was cold steel. “Princess Seraphine, any further insult toward my future wife will be considered an insult to House Leonhart. Are we clear?”

The room quieted.

Elira didn’t flinch. Didn’t smile. She simply locked eyes with Seraphine.

The war had begun. And this time, Elira wouldn’t lose.

---

✦

Later that evening, back at the Leonhart estate, Elira stood alone on the balcony outside her room.

The wind was sharp, tugging at her sleeves. Below, snow blanketed the trees in quiet beauty.

She heard footsteps behind her. She didn’t turn.

“You didn’t have to defend me,” she said softly.

Kael joined her by the railing. “Yes, I did.”

“Why? I had it handled.”

“Because you’re mine now. At least... publicly.”

She turned toward him. “And privately?”

Kael’s eyes held hers. For a moment, too long.

“Privately,” he said slowly, “you’re a woman who’s survived hell. You don’t need defending. But even wolves fight better in pairs.”

A silence stretched between them.

Then Elira said, “You wear that mask well, Duke.”

“So do you.”

She nodded. “Then let’s see who takes it off first.”