The Duke's Reluctant Bride

Chapter 43: The Cold Promise

Blood spread across the floor in a creeping tide, lapping at the toes of Adeline's boots. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints as she stared at Gerard's headless body—still twitching, still gushing in grotesque spurts from the stump of his neck. His head rolled away, bumping to a stop at Lucien's boots.

From the ground, Gerard's eyes, still wide, found themselves staring at Lucien's face.

Lucien stared back. No fury, no satisfaction. Only a cold stare, like a winter night when the snow has buried all sound.

In that narrowing tunnel of his fading sight, Gerard remembered, the weight of that hand on his shoulder years ago, the low, unhurried voice that had slipped like frost into his bones:

"I wonder... how would it feel, Gerard, to see your head severed by my sword and roll from your shoulders—would your face freeze in terror, or would you still be smirking when your blood painted the stones beneath you?"

Back then, he'd thought it was nothing but a threat. But now he understood, it had been a cold promise. A man you would never sense until the steel was already sliding through your neck.

The roll of his head from his shoulder earlier, and the blood staining the floor beneath him, were vivid and undeniable in his fading moments.

His vision wavered, the edges darkening. Lucien hadn't moved an inch, yet to Gerard, the stillness around Lucien seemed to tighten, as if the air itself had grown colder. Frost began to creep up his head, slowly enveloping it in ice.

The cold sank into Gerard faster than the blood loss. His face went pale, replaced by a trembling slackness in his lips.

His mouth worked, the sound barely escaping. "Monster..."

Lucien said nothing. He simply watched, as if he were the last thing Gerard would ever see—because he was.

Gerard's head hardened under the ice, and then Lucien stomped down with his boot, shattering it like glass.

He then turned his gaze toward Adeline, slowly approaching. His bloodied sword was freezing over, shedding brittle shards of crimson as he slid it back into its sheath.

His hand curled into a fist, and the frost crept into Adeline's cursed bindings until they cracked apart, finally setting her free.

Light magic returned to her at once, mending her bruised and broken ribs. The last tingling waves of its healing lingered in her limbs, drawing a quiet sigh from her lips. She paused when she saw Lucien's offered hand, extended toward her.

Her own hand slowly reached out, fingers curling around his as he pulled her up and brought her back to her feet.

"Th... thank you for saving me, Your Grace," she mumbled, embarrassed to see herself in such a sorry state.

Lucien nodded in response, but his gaze drifted back to Gerard's headless corpse.

"I should be the one thanking you. You gave me a reason to kill him," he said calmly.

Adeline tensed slightly, curiosity flickering across her face. "How did you find me?"

Lucien's eyes dropped to the ring on her finger.

"That ring contains a magical trace to track you. That's why I asked you not to remove it." He then looked to his own ring, which glowed faintly. "Didn't know it might be useful someday," he added.

Adeline did not respond immediately. Her thoughts drifted, first to the fact that Lucien had known exactly where she was, and then to the possibility that her abduction might have led him to something else entirely. The absence of rushing footsteps or shouts, and the eerie stillness in the air, told her something.