Chapter 8: The Promise and the Marriage
Harrow leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the grand ceiling of the Gull estate as he thought about what lay ahead. In the novel, Nightingale became Roland's ally because he promised her a safe haven for witches. But will that be enough for the present-day Nightingale? The thought lingered as he sipped his drink. He had read her story and knew her potential—her ability to detect lies, her loyalty, her strength—but she had endured much before ever meeting Roland. Convincing her would take more than just promises.
Later that night, in the shadows of the estate, Duke Gull entered the small chamber where his daughter, Veronica Nightingale Gull, was confined. She had been locked away ever since her father had learned of her powers—a secret that her brother had betrayed her with after she used her powers to save his life. Since that day, the Duke had barely spoken to her, leaving her in isolation with only minimal provisions. Yet tonight, for the first time in nearly a year, he came to speak.
"You will meet someone tomorrow," the Duke said coldly, standing at the door. "Baron Harrow. He has made a name for himself by taking witches under his protection. You will meet him tomorrow at lunch. Be ready."
Nightingale was silent for a moment, using her lie-detection ability as instinctively as breathing. The Duke's words rang true, and her heart sank. Why now? Why, after all this time? She suspected her father was arranging a marriage for her, to sever her connection to the family and protect their reputation. She clenched her fists, already thinking of how she would escape. She had her mist ability—if the marriage was real, she would agree, then run away when the time was right.
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The Next Day
Harrow was led into the Gull dining room after hours of waiting. The Duke made sure to stretch the meeting as long as possible, but Harrow remained patient. He knew these tricks were to see his patience limits or to check if was a pushover noble. Inside the large room, the Duke, Duchess, and their son sat at the grand dining table, looking over Harrow with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. They didn't like him at all but were present because of the order of Duke. A few maids stood silently by, watching the scene unfold.
"Sit," the Duke commanded, gesturing to the seat opposite them.
Harrow complied, keeping his posture respectful. The tension in the room was palpable, but Harrow remained calm. He had come here with a purpose, and this was a necessary step to recruit Nightingale.
"Bring her," the Duke ordered, and the maid scurried out of the room to fetch Nightingale.
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Nightingale's Point of View
Nightingale sat in her small room, her mind racing. Run or meet him? she wondered. She wanted to disappear into the mist, to leave this life behind and escape into the wilderness. But something kept her from doing so. Her father had spoken to her for the first time in a year—why now? She feared that this meeting would end with her being married off, an arrangement to save the Gull family from the Church. And yet, if she ran now, she might never know what this was truly about and might even implicate her family.
I'll agree to the marriage, if that's what it is, she decided. But when the time comes, I'll escape. No one will trap me again.- she thought.
Her heart raced as the maid arrived to take her to the dining room. With every step, her resolve hardened. She would meet this Baron Harrow, and she would plan her escape as soon as possible.
When the door to the dining room opened, her gaze fell on Harrow. He wasn't what she expected—he looked... ordinary. His appearance didn't suggest power or authority, but there was something in his eyes that gave her pause. He didn't flinch under the scrutinizing eyes of her family, and that in itself was strange.
"Stand by my side," her father ordered, and Nightingale complied, standing at the edge of the table. Her eyes remained on Harrow, her instincts on high alert.
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The Conversation
Duke Gull wasted no time. "Baron Harrow," he said, his voice cold, "you've come seeking my daughter. Tell me, what are your plans for her?"
Harrow met the Duke's gaze without hesitation. "I intend to offer her a place under my protection without obstructing her freedom. She will be safe with me, just as the other witches in my care are safe. I want to protect her from the Church and from those who would harm her."
As he spoke, Nightingale activated her ability to detect lies. To her shock, there wasn't a single falsehood in his words. Everything Harrow said was the truth—he genuinely intended to protect her, to offer her safety. She blinked, momentarily stunned. How could this be? No one had ever spoken to her without some hidden agenda, yet Harrow's words were completely honest.
"I have witches living in my town," Harrow continued. "They're thriving. My people are slowly learning to accept that witches aren't evil, and I intend to build a haven where witches can live freely, without fear."
Nightingale's heart pounded as she kept using her ability, searching for any sign of deception. But no matter how hard she focused, there were no lies. Harrow was speaking the truth. She could hardly believe it.
"I swear to you," Harrow said, turning to the Duke, "I will keep your daughter safe. The Church will never touch her."
The Duke narrowed his eyes, but he could see the sincerity in Harrow's words. Slowly, grudgingly, he nodded. "And what do you want in return for such a risk, Baron Harrow? Surely you don't expect me to believe this is out of charity."
Harrow smiled. "No, Your Grace. I have no such illusions. What I seek is simple—an import order for weapons, and a few skilled metal workers to help me in my town. That is all."
The Duke's eyes hardened. He had expected a more outrageous demand, but this request was almost... reasonable. After a moment of tense silence, he nodded.
"Very well," the Duke said, though his voice held an edge of challenge. "But there is one condition. If you take my daughter, she must be married. I will not allow her to leave my house without a proper arrangement."
Harrow's heart raced with excitement, though he kept his expression neutral. He had always admired Nightingale in the novel, and now the possibility of marrying her was more than he had ever dreamed. He smiled slightly, bowing his head. "I accept your condition, Your Grace."
The Duke sat back in his chair, his expression unreadable. Nightingale's mind reeled. She had expected this—her father arranging her marriage to sever ties—but she hadn't expected Harrow's calm acceptance. What does he really want? she wondered.
But one thing was clear: Harrow was no ordinary man. And as much as she tried to deny it, part of her was curious to know more.