The Imperial Ballroom looked exactly as I remembered it had a giant, suffocating cake made of gold leaf and terrible gossip.
Nobles were strutting around in outfits so heavy with jewels I was amazed half of them hadn't collapsed from spinal injuries. Next to them, in my simple pale-blue chiffon, I looked like a lost peasant who had wandered in to serve the drinks.
"Alistair, do something," my mother hissed through a tight, fake smile, waving her fan like a weapon. "Everyone is staring at her."
"What do you want me to do, Genevieve? Throw my coat over her?" my father muttered back, sweating profusely into his cravat.
I tuned them out. Let them stress. They would thank me in three years when our heads were still attached to our necks.
I scanned the room.
Where is he?
There.
Standing on the shadowy perimeter of a moonlit balcony, looking like a grim reaper who had been forced to attend a birthday party, was Duke Cesare del Marque.
My breath hitched. My pulse hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
Even from across the room, the sight of him made the phantom smell of ash burn the back of my throat. He wore an immaculate, pitch-black military uniform with silver epaulettes that practically screamed 'Do not talk to me.' His jet-black hair was swept back, and his piercing, golden eyes—the undeniable mark of the Emperor's cousin—swept over the glittering crowd with absolute disgust.
He looked terrifying. He looked lethal.
He is going to be my baby daddy, I reminded myself firmly, swallowing the lump of panic in my throat. Focus, Eris.
I needed to get to that balcony, but I couldn't just walk up. I needed bait.
I turned my head and immediately spotted Viscount Aris near the dessert tables. He was wearing pristine, obnoxious white silk trousers and laughing loudly at a joke he probably made himself. In my past life, he was a massive creep who harassed me relentlessly because my family's power was fading.
Perfect.
"Excuse me, Mother, Father. I'm going to get some air," I murmured.
Before they could stop me, I slipped into the crowd. I grabbed a goblet of the darkest, most expensive red wine from a passing waiter's silver tray.
I navigated the ballroom floor, timing my steps perfectly. Viscount Aris was standing right near the open doors of Cesare's balcony, completely oblivious to the monster lurking in the shadows just a few feet away.
I put on my best 'terrified, clumsy girl' face.
Three steps away. Two steps. One.
I caught the toe of my slipper on the hem of my own dress and pitched forward with a dramatic gasp.
"Oh my!" I cried out, throwing my arms up.
The goblet flew out of my hand. The dark red wine arched beautifully through the air and splashed dead center onto Viscount Aris's crotch and down his pristine white trousers.
It looked like a massacre.
The string quartet nearby seemed to screech to a halt. Several aristocratic ladies gasped, raising their fans to cover their shocked faces.
"What in the blazes?!" Viscount Aris shrieked, jumping back. He looked down at his ruined silk, his face turning an ugly shade of plum. He spun around, his eyes locking onto me.
I shrank back immediately, bringing my hands up to my chest. I made my eyes go wide and let my lower lip tremble uncontrollably.
"I-I am so incredibly sorry, My Lord," I stammered, letting my voice crack perfectly. "I tripped! Please, forgive my clumsiness."
"Forgive you?" he hissed, stepping into my personal space. The smell of cheap cologne and wine wafted off him. "Do you know how much this silk costs, you stupid little brat? Ah... Lady la Blanche. Of course. Dressing like a maid and acting like one, too."
"I truly didn't mean to—"
"Save it," Aris snapped. The anger in his eyes shifted into something nasty and predatory as he realized my parents weren't nearby to protect me. "Your father's title is a joke, Eris. You don't just get to ruin my night and walk away."
He reached out and grabbed my upper arm. Hard.
His fingers dug brutally into my skin. I didn't even have to fake my reaction to the pain. I let out a soft, pathetic whimper, shrinking down and twisting weakly against his grip.
"Please, Lord Aris, you're hurting me," I cried, raising my voice just enough to carry to the balcony behind him. "Let me go!"
"You owe me an apology in private," he sneered, pulling me toward the corridor.
Three... Two... One...
"Let go of her."
The voice wasn't a shout. It didn't need to be. It was a low, vibrating hum that cut through the noise of the ballroom like a rusted blade.
The temperature around us plummeted.
Viscount Aris froze. The nasty smirk slid right off his face, replaced by sheer, blood-draining terror. Slowly, jerkily, he turned his head toward the balcony.
Duke Cesare del Marque stepped out of the shadows.
Up close, he was even larger. He towered over the Viscount, his broad shoulders blocking out the moonlight. He wasn't looking at me. His glowing, predatory golden eyes were fixed entirely on the Viscount's hand wrapped around my arm.
"I said," Cesare drawled, taking one slow, deliberate step forward, "let go."
Aris ripped his hand away from me like my skin had suddenly caught fire.
"Y-Your Grace!" the Viscount squeaked. He actually squeaked, like a stepped-on mouse. "I-I was just... the Lady, she ruined my clothing! I was merely escorting her—"
"Leave."
Just one word. Cesare didn't raise his voice. He didn't draw a sword. But the sheer, suffocating pressure radiating off the Emperor's cousin was enough to make the Viscount's knees buckle.
Aris bowed so fast and so low he nearly headbutted the marble floor. Without another word, he turned and practically sprinted into the crowd, desperately trying to hide his wine-stained pants.
Silence settled over our little corner of the room. The other nobles were pretending not to look, but I knew they were all watching.
Cesare sighed. He ran a large, gloved hand through his jet-black hair, looking deeply, profoundly annoyed. He hated high society. He hated intervening in petty squabbles.
Finally, his golden eyes flicked down to me.
I knew exactly what he expected. He expected me to blush furiously, curtsy so low my nose touched my knees, and stammer out a thousand flustered thank-yous. He expected me to be intimidated.
Instead, I took a step closer to him.
I reached out with trembling, pale fingers, and grabbed the dark fabric of his sleeve.
Cesare went entirely still. The muscles in his arm instantly went rigid under my touch. He stared down at my hand like I had just slapped him. He was notoriously averse to women, to touch, to anything soft.
"Your Grace," I whispered.
I tilted my head up. I let the moonlight catch the heavy, unshed tears swimming in my cerulean eyes. I didn't look like a calculating regressor. I looked like a shattered glass doll that had finally found a safe place to hide.
"You're shaking," Cesare noted. His voice was guarded, his thick brows furrowing in confusion.
"I have nowhere else to go," I breathed out, my knuckles turning white as I gripped his coat tighter. I made sure a single, perfect tear slipped down my cheek. "Please. My family... they are in debt. They are trying to sell me off to the borderlands to a terrible man. I can't survive in this place. They'll eat me alive."
Cesare stared down at me. He looked at my cheap, simple blue dress. He looked at the rapidly darkening bruise on my arm where Aris had grabbed me. He looked at my trembling pink lips.
The icy annoyance in his golden eyes slowly fractured. It melted, shifting into something heavy. Something dark, territorial, and dangerously protective.
"And what exactly," Cesare said, his voice dropping to a silken, lethal whisper that made my spine shiver, "does that have to do with me, Lady Eris?"
I looked right into the eyes of the monster who had once let me burn to death. I buried my absolute hatred beneath a flawless, innocent, desperate smile.
"Marry me, Your Grace, and I will be the quietest, most obedient wife you could ever ask for."
The ballroom around us ceased to exist.
Cesare didn't blink. He didn't pull his arm away. For a long, agonizing moment, he just stared at me, searching my tear-stained face for a lie. He found nothing but the perfect mask I had painted for him.
He let out a low, dark chuckle that didn't reach his eyes.
"A marriage proposal?" he murmured, leaning down until his face was inches from mine. He smelled like winter pine and cold steel. "You corner the most dangerous man in the Empire, looking like a lamb ready for the slaughter, and ask him to tie you to him?"
"You are my only hope, Your Grace," I whispered, not breaking eye contact.
Slowly, Cesare raised his hand. He didn't push me away. Instead, his large, gloved thumb brushed against the angry red bruise on my arm. The touch was shockingly gentle, but his golden eyes burned with sudden, terrifying intensity.
"If I take you in, little bird," Cesare warned, his voice a possessive purr, "I do not give back what is mine. Are you prepared for that?"
I met his gaze without hesitation.
That's exactly why I chose you.