A Lethal Proximity

The storm had passed, but Ishani’s heart hadn’t stopped pounding since last night.

When the maid finished tightening the laces of her crimson gown, Ishani caught her reflection in the mirror. The woman staring back at her was stunning, commanding—hair pinned high, ruby lips gleaming, emerald eyes lined sharp.

Lady Seraphina Valente.

The villainess.

Ishani’s pulse raced. No, not the villainess anymore. I’m rewriting her fate.

But would the Duke believe her act long enough to let her live?

A sharp knock rattled the chamber door.

Before she could respond, the door swung open and in walked Lucian Ravencourt himself.

He was dressed for the day, his black uniform fitted perfectly against his tall, broad frame, silver trim glinting in the light. His silver eyes swept over her slowly, deliberately, as if weighing every inch of her.

Ishani stiffened, her cheeks heating under his gaze.

“You look different,” Lucian said at last, his voice calm, almost… curious. “Less venom. More restraint.”

Her hands clenched in her lap. The real Seraphina would have snapped back with arrogance, maybe tossed an insult to hide her vulnerability. But Ishani forced a small, measured smile.

“Perhaps I’ve grown tired of being everyone’s enemy,” she said quietly.

Lucian arched an eyebrow, stepping closer. The click of his boots against the marble made her chest tighten.

“And yet,” he murmured, stopping just before her chair, “you’re still dangerous. A serpent that pretends to shed its fangs is often the deadliest of all.”

His hand suddenly pressed against the armrest of her chair, caging her in. His scent—steel, leather, faint cologne—wrapped around her, intoxicating and suffocating all at once.

Her breath hitched. Too close.

Lucian’s eyes narrowed, studying her face, searching for cracks in her act.

“Tell me, wife,” he said softly, his lips dangerously close to her ear. “Are you truly trying to change… or is this just another one of your games?”

Ishani’s heart thundered. His proximity set every nerve on fire, but the threat in his voice was just as sharp.

If she hesitated now, he would see through her.

She lifted her chin slightly, meeting his gaze. “Does it matter if it’s a game, my lord… if you enjoy playing it?”

For a moment, silence stretched, thick and heavy.

Then—his lips curved. Not warmly, but with faint amusement.

“Clever,” he murmured. His hand lingered near hers, almost brushing her fingers. She froze, afraid to move, afraid to break the fragile thread of curiosity she had spun.

But then he pulled back suddenly, straightening to his full height.

“Be ready. The council awaits.” His tone was sharp again, though not as venomous as before.

As he turned toward the door, Ishani exhaled shakily, her hands trembling in her lap. What was that? Was he testing me—or… something else?

She couldn’t deny the truth. The closeness of his body, the way his silver eyes had lingered on her lips—it had stirred something inside her she hadn’t expected.

But she quickly shoved the thought away. No. Romance with the man who killed Seraphina? Impossible. Dangerous. Fatal.

And yet… why had her heart skipped a beat?

As they left her chambers, Lucian walked beside her, his long strides purposeful. Ishani struggled to keep her composure. Every passing servant bowed, their eyes wide with curiosity—and fear.

They must have expected Seraphina’s usual arrogance, her cruel remarks. Instead, Ishani gave them a polite nod. The whispers followed immediately.

“Did you see that? She didn’t scold us…”

“She even smiled.”

“Something’s wrong. That’s not like Lady Seraphina at all.”

Lucian’s gaze flicked toward her, sharp and calculating. Ishani forced her lips into a small, calm smile, as though their whispers didn’t matter.

Inside, however, her thoughts raced. Good. Let them whisper. If they see change, maybe they’ll hesitate to hate me so openly.

Still, Lucian’s scrutiny burned against her skin. He noticed everything. He missed nothing.

When they reached the grand staircase, Lucian stopped abruptly. Ishani nearly stumbled into him, her hand instinctively brushing against his arm for balance.

His muscles tensed beneath her touch.

Her eyes shot up to his, startled. For the briefest second, their gazes locked—hers wide and nervous, his steady, intense.

The world seemed to freeze. The space between them shrank, her hand still lingering against his sleeve.

“Careful,” he said at last, his voice low. “A single misstep in this house could mean your fall.”

She swallowed hard, her pulse skipping. Was that a warning… or something more?

Before she could answer, he moved forward again, leaving her standing breathless on the staircase.

By the time they reached the towering doors of the council chamber, Ishani’s nerves were stretched taut. Her heart pounded, not just from the looming danger of nobles who despised her, but from the strange, undeniable pull that had sparked in Lucian’s presence.

She had promised herself not to fall for him. He was dangerous. Cold. The executioner of her fate.

And yet, every glance, every accidental touch, every whispered word from him seemed to tangle her heart in knots.

No, she told herself firmly. Survival comes first. Nothing else.

But as Lucian pushed open the massive doors and the nobles inside turned to stare, Ishani knew her battle was only just beginning.

She had to survive their judgment.

And survive the Duke’s dangerous closeness… before it consumed her completely.

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