"Theron, explain yourself. Now." The duke's voice cut through the room as he strode forward and snatched up the contract. "Why am I branded with this woman's name?"
"Sir… I cannot. This has never happened before. I will look into it immediately," the mage replied, his gaze shifting toward the woman seated before him. "Are you alright? You look pale… Jeric, sir, she looks like she's about to pass out."
He moved quickly to Cassia, dropping to one knee as he lifted her chin and inspected her eyes.
"What… did I just…" Her voice wavered, her consciousness slipping as she blinked rapidly, trying to stay present. "What did you do to me…"
That was all she managed before the stress and exhaustion took hold.
The duke lowered her back onto the bed and pulled the blanket over her, the same one she had clung to moments before.
"Figure this out, Theron. Have her looked after until she wakes," Jeric said as he turned toward the exit. "When she wakes, if she is well enough, start her with the head maid."
"As you wish, sir." The elderly mage bowed deeply, his long gray hair falling forward to obscure his face. He did not rise again until the duke had left the room.
Cassia woke to the sound of the wooden door creaking open, followed by a heavy thud that pulled her fully back into herself. Her head felt fuzzy from the day before, a dull headache pressing behind her eyes.
For a few seconds, she couldn't remember where she was. The room around her was too clean, too still, too far removed from anything that had ever belonged to her.
Sitting up, she saw a heavier-set woman walking toward her, holding what appeared to be a stack of clothes with a few books balanced on top.
"I trust you are well rested," the woman said, with no sign of warmth in her tone. "Here, you will find that oversleeping and not contributing will not end well for you."
Setting the supplies down, she turned sharply toward Cassia. "Why are you still in bed? Move."
Without time to think, she obeyed. She took the clothes and shed her old rags, the new garments fitting snugly and feeling like fine silk. The crest of House Valmont was stitched throughout the fabric in fine thread.
The top pressed tightly against her chest before flowing outward, the fabric clinging just enough to make her aware of every movement. The sides of the dress hugged her hips, leaving little to the imagination, as though it had been made with her body in mind.
She gathered her dark velvet hair and tied it into a bun before looking back at the woman, who tapped her foot in a steady rhythm to emphasize the passing time.
"Do I have a choice, some kind of say in this?" Cassia asked, sliding on her last boot. "This all seems so… weird." She walked over to meet the larger woman. "I know he saved me, and we signed…"
"You will only speak when asked to. You will wake every morning at five and begin your daily duties." The woman handed her a book with the words House Rules stamped across the front. "Read. If you can't read, we will teach you."
"I can—"
"Quiet!" the woman snapped, her voice cutting through Cassia's. "From this day forth, you are the duke's. There is no turning back. No giving up. You will learn to be a proper lady, then you will join the duke."
Without allowing Cassia a chance to fight back, she marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
"What a bit—"
The door flung open again only seconds later.
"Well, come on. We have a lot to teach you."
Quickly walking toward the door, Cassia joined the maid. They moved at a hurried pace, the woman surprisingly fast for someone her size.
By the time they reached the dining hall, Cassia was already short of breath. Servants passed them in both directions with trays, folded linens, silverware, buckets, and baskets of produce, each of them stepping aside just enough to let the head maid through before snapping right back into motion.
Passing several other women, Cassia was brought into the kitchen and led toward the back.
"Your first duty is to clean the dishes," the head maid said, dropping a stained bowl into the gray-brown water. "We feed nobles here almost daily. You will start where everyone starts."
Cassia stared at the basin. "This is training for the duke?"
"This is correction," the woman replied.
Cassia's jaw tightened. "If I'm meant to become the duke's wife, why am I standing in a kitchen?"
The head maid stepped closer, her perfume sharp enough to cut through the damp air. "Because in this house, title comes after usefulness. Now wash."
Cassia, against her better judgment, followed the order. For hours she completed the task without complaint, and only when night fell and the stream of dirty dishes finally stopped did she allow herself to slow. Every time she thought the last stack had been cleared, another appeared beside the basin.
"There. That old bat can't complain now," Cassia muttered as she laid the final plate in the strainer to dry. "I wonder when I'll see him again?" she whispered under her breath. "I can't be here just to wash dishes."
As if summoned by the thought alone, the head maid appeared in front of her once more. "Now, we will go to the conference hall. You must understand what you're doing."
Grabbing Cassia by the hand and pulling her along, she led her out of the kitchen and into the main hall. Portraits of previous dukes and their families hung in even intervals along the walls, each one set in heavy dark frames trimmed with gold. Candlelight flickered over painted faces that all seemed to carry the same hard posture, the same sense of inherited control.
They made their way to the far end of the hall, where two guards stood waiting outside a pair of towering doors. The doors were black-stained oak banded with iron, the crest of House Valmont carved into the center of each one.
The guards stood at perfect attention in polished armor, gauntleted hands resting near the hilts of their weapons, their faces unreadable beneath the shadows of their helms.
The doors opened, and Cassia was led through onto the balcony above the conference hall. Below, a long table stretched across the chamber, surrounded by men dressed in wealth and authority. Papers, maps, and sealed reports lay scattered across the polished surface. At its head sat Jeric.
"We cannot let them get their way."
"That House has been an issue for far longer than you should have allowed, Jeric."
"SILENCE!" Jeric's voice boomed through the chamber, leaving a tremor in the air itself. "We do not have proof yet," he continued, slamming a report down onto the table. "Without proof, I can do nothing."
"Doing nothing will bring shame to your House." Another voice broke free, sharp and biting. "House Valmont is already known for being too soft. You cannot allow this to continue."
"Then find me proof." Jeric shoved back from the table and rose to his full height, the force of it sending his chair scraping across the stone. His armor shifted with a hard metallic grind as he fixed the room with a stare sharp enough to cut. "Do not tell me what the Duke will do. Next time, I will show you exactly how harsh House Valmont can be."
With that, he stormed from the room, each step echoing like a threat against the floor below.
The men left behind sat in stunned silence.
One by one, they gathered their papers and pushed back from the table, no longer eager to keep talking now that the duke was gone.
Cassia stood frozen above them, her pulse hammering.
Until then, Jeric had been controlled. Cold. Even cruel.
This was something else.
The realization settled in as she stood there. She understood exactly what kind of man had taken her.