Knock.
Knock.
The sharp rap of knuckles against the heavy mahogany doors shattered the quiet morning air.
“Your Imperial Highness,” a smooth voice called out from the hallway.
It was Malakai, the head butler.
“I have brought the morning tea and the border registries.”
Before Caelum could answer, the doors groaned open.
Malakai stepped inside, holding a silver tray.
The moment the butler’s eyes tracked the bed, his professional composure froze completely.
Sitting atop the Grand Duke’s private silk sheets was Vivienne Abernathy—dressed in a rumpled black leather riding habit, her matted hair framing a completely deadpan expression.
The porcelain washbasin lay shattered on the floor, and the room still smelled heavily of raw abyssal mana.
Malakai had served Caelum Valerius for decades.
He had seen the Grand Duke return from battle drenched in blood.
But never—not once—had Malakai seen a woman sitting on his master’s bed.
The elderly butler quickly lowered his gaze.
“What are you staring at?” Caelum’s deep voice snapped.
Malakai immediately straightened.
“Nothing, my lord.”
“Get a dress for Miss Vivienne,” Caelum commanded.
Malakai hesitated.
“A… dress, my lord? We don’t exactly keep women’s clothing in the manor. I’m not certain Miss Vivienne would be comfortable wearing General Freya’s combat uniform.”
Caelum’s crimson eyes narrowed.
“Then acquire one. Now.”
“At once, my lord.” Malakai bowed and hurried from the room.
Vivienne glanced toward Caelum, her lips twitching with faint amusement.
“No,” Caelum replied, his voice dropping into a dangerous, freezing register.
“You’re in no position to criticize my manor, little bird.”
“Fair enough.”
Less than a minute later, Malakai returned carrying a large black garment bag.
He carefully revealed a magnificent dress made from deep obsidian silk, so dark that it almost absorbed the morning light.
Fine silver embroidery traced the edges of the sleeves, forming patterns resembling curling shadows.
Vivienne’s eyebrows lifted.
“Where did you get that?”
“I had it commissioned months ago for a specific state event, Miss,” Malakai explained with a perfectly composed smile.
“I assumed His Grace would prefer something appropriate for the future Grand Duchess.”
Caelum gave a low, irritated sigh.
“Leave.”
“Of course, my lord. The bathhouse has been prepared,” Malakai added before quickly exiting.
“Where is the washroom?” Vivienne asked, her melodic voice slicing through the heavy air.
She held the obsidian dress tightly against her chest.
Caelum didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, his piercing crimson eyes tracked her with a sudden, suffocating intensity.
The morning light filtered through the windows, illuminating the sharp contrast of her pale skin against the dark velvet sheets.
His gaze dropped to her narrow waist, a dark, primitive possessiveness taking hold of his features.
Vivienne felt the heavy weight of his stare.
Why is he looking at me like that? she thought, her fingers tightening around the fabric.
He needs me alive and sane.
He wouldn’t dare.
“Grand Duke?” Vivienne repeated, her voice deadpan.
Caelum snapped back to his senses, his jaw clenching in sharp annoyance at the sudden crack in his own armor.
He stepped forward, his massive frame towering over her as he leaned down, his breath hot against her ear.
“The maid is waiting outside,” Caelum growled, his deep baritone thick and rough.
“Wash the capital mud off your skin, Vivienne. We leave for the palace in an hour.”
He turned on his heel, his loose black silk robe billowing behind him as he marched out of the master bedchamber.
Vivienne let out a soft breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
She shook her head, looking around at the black marble pillars and dark charcoal carpets.
The man has the color palette of a cemetery, she noted inwardly.
A young, trembling maid stepped into the room.
“M-Miss Vivienne… His Grace ordered me to guide you to the bathhouse.”
“Lead the way,” Vivienne commanded smoothly.
An hour later, the transformation was complete.
The grand doors of the Obsidian Manor’s courtyard flew open.
Vivienne stepped out, the obsidian silk dress hugging her curves perfectly, her dark hair swept up into an elegant, authoritative style.
She looked less like a runaway bride and more like a queen preparing to claim a throne.
Waiting by the imperial carriage was Caelum, now clad in his massive, silver-trimmed black warlord armor.
His crimson eyes flared with absolute, unhinged obsession the moment he saw her.
He didn’t say a word.
He simply reached out, his large, calloused hand wrapping firmly around her waist and pulling her flush against his armored side.
“Are you ready to shatter the Crown Prince’s sanity?” Caelum murmured, a lethal smile touching his lips.
Vivienne looked toward the southern horizon, her eyes flashing with pure vengeance.
“Drive the carriage straight to the Autumn Equinox Banquet. Let’s give my family the greeting they deserve.”