I watched him.Studied him.
And in doing so, I felt it.
The cruelty simmering beneath his skin.
The perverse enjoyment he derived from the power he wielded over Elizabeth, from the knowledge that she would soon be his possession.
An icy sensation ran down my spine, despite myself.
And a thought crept into my mind—unbidden, undeniable.
He is more of a monster than I am.
The dinner concluded with Alexander rising from his seat, his movements crisp and deliberate—a signal for us to retire to the smoking room.
A transition from one chamber of power to the next.
From the stark grandeur of the dining hall to the thick, heady warmth of a room where men held power as if it were their birthright.
I stepped inside, the massive stone fireplace commanding my attention, flames crackling, casting elongated shadows along the paneled walls.
A fire meant to warm—but here, it only made the room feel smaller, more suffocating.
Cigars were passed around—symbols of status, camaraderie, and unspoken alliances forged in smoke and ambition.
I accepted one out of necessity, rolling it between my fingers, but my mind was elsewhere.
Somewhere beyond this room.
Somewhere in the moonlit garden, a woman was alone—trapped in a life she did not choose.
And for the first time in my life, I questioned what was stronger?—
My duty.
Or my desire to burn this world to the ground for her.
One by one, tapers caught fire, dipping into the roaring hearth, igniting the cigars in their hands.
Flames flickered, reflected in the cold glint of their eyes.
Men lounged in overstuffed armchairs, exhaling smoke like a dragon’s breath, the haze thickening around us, distorting, softening the brutal nature of the company I kept.
The scent of tobacco curled through the room, rich and intoxicating, masking the stench of power, corruption, and quiet cruelty.
Laughter rumbled low, conversations laced with conspiratorial whispers.Deals were forged beneath the guise of leisure, empires secured between the exhale of smoke and the clink of crystal glasses.
Yet none of it could distract me.
Not from her.
Elizabeth’s face hovered in my thoughts—grace and boldness entwined, her blue eyes carrying the weight of her suffocating reality.
And now, she haunted me.
After what could be considered appropriate discourse, I moved to stand.
“Thank you for this lovely evening, but I must be off,” I announced to Lord Alexander, my voice tempered, unwavering—though inside, everything churned.
