The morning sun crept through the heavy curtains of the Duke's estate, casting long, golden fingers across the room where Anastasia stood before a large mirror, surrounded by the flurry of maids adjusting, pulling, and fussing over her. She could hardly recognize the figure in the reflection—the girl draped in delicate, shimmering fabric, her hair intricately styled, and her skin glowing under the soft light.
Her hands, usually calloused and worn from a life of servitude, now felt alien beneath the layers of lace and silk. The maids had painted her lips the color of ripe berries, and her cheeks had been dusted with a soft blush. The dress she wore clung to her body in a way that made her feel exposed, vulnerable, but undeniably beautiful. It was a pale blue, the color of the sky on a clear day, and the fabric flowed like water as she moved, delicate and elegant.
The transformation was nothing short of remarkable.
"His Grace has impeccable taste," one of the maids murmured as she stepped back to admire their work.
Anastasia swallowed hard, feeling a mix of awe and unease. She had never worn anything so fine, so expensive. She had always been part of the background, a shadow slipping through the cracks of the palace. Now, she felt like she was standing in the spotlight, and she wasn't sure if she liked it.
"Is this really necessary?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.
The maids exchanged glances but said nothing. It wasn't their place to question the Duke's orders.
When they finally stepped away, giving her space to breathe, she took a tentative step toward the door. Her heart pounded in her chest, not from excitement but from the overwhelming sense of unfamiliarity. She felt like an imposter in this elegant attire, pretending to be someone she wasn't.
A knock on the door startled her, and the head maid stepped inside, offering a curtsey before speaking. "His Grace awaits you downstairs, Miss Anastasia."
Her stomach tightened at the thought of facing him like this. She had never been dressed for his eyes before. She had been his servant, his pawn, his responsibility—but never… this.
As she made her way down the grand staircase, her hands gripping the banister tightly, her eyes landed on the Duke. He was standing at the foot of the stairs, his hands clasped behind his back, dressed in a dark coat that accentuated his broad shoulders and commanding presence. The faintest hint of a smile played on his lips as he watched her descend.
For a moment, she felt like she was stepping into something more intimate, something far removed from the coldness that had marked their earlier interactions. His gaze was intent, almost… appreciative.
When she reached the bottom, she stopped, unsure of what to say. The tension between them was palpable, a thread stretched tight between them.
"You look…" His voice trailed off, his eyes lingering on her in a way that made her pulse quicken. "Beautiful."
Anastasia's breath caught in her throat. She had never heard him speak to her like this. His words were simple, but the way he said them, with a quiet intensity, made her heart skip a beat.
She lowered her gaze, feeling her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. "This seems… unnecessary, Your Grace," she managed, trying to keep her voice steady.
The Duke stepped closer, his presence commanding yet not overbearing. "We're going to the town. You will be seen with me. Appearances matter."
His words were logical, practical even, but there was something deeper in his tone that made her feel like this was more than just a public display. The way he looked at her wasn't just about appearances—it was as though he saw something in her, something that both intrigued and unnerved him.
Without another word, he offered his arm, and after a moment's hesitation, she placed her hand lightly on his sleeve. His touch, even through the fabric of his coat, sent a shiver down her spine, and the tension between them coiled tighter.
As they stepped outside, the morning air greeted them, crisp and fresh. The carriage awaited, its polished wood gleaming in the sunlight. The Duke helped her inside, his hand lingering on hers a moment longer than necessary before he joined her.
The journey to the town was quiet at first. Anastasia kept her eyes fixed on the scenery passing by, trying to focus on anything but the weight of the Duke's presence beside her. The road wound through rolling hills and open fields, the landscape bathed in the soft glow of the sun.
Eventually, her curiosity got the better of her. She turned her gaze to him, studying his profile as he looked out the window, his expression unreadable. She had so many questions, questions that had been building ever since she had first been brought to his estate.
"Your Grace," she began cautiously, "what do you know about me?"
The Duke's eyes flickered toward her, but he didn't answer immediately. His silence stretched on, and for a moment, she thought he might ignore the question altogether.
Finally, he spoke, his tone measured. "I know more than you realize."
His answer was vague, frustratingly so, and it did nothing to ease the knot of confusion and fear that had been tightening in her chest.
Anastasia frowned, not willing to let the matter drop so easily. "Why won't you tell me the truth? Why did you spare me?"
The Duke's gaze sharpened, but he didn't respond directly. Instead, he diverted the conversation, as though her questions were too dangerous to answer. "There are things you are not yet ready to understand," he said, his voice soft but firm. "But in time, the pieces will fall into place."
She stared at him, feeling a surge of frustration. He was always withholding something, always keeping her at arm's length, even as the tension between them grew stronger, more undeniable.
"You always do that," she said, unable to keep the edge from her voice. "You never answer me."
The Duke turned to her fully, his expression unreadable. "Some truths," he said quietly, "are more dangerous than lies."
His words sent a chill down her spine, and she found herself at a loss for how to respond. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension, and for the first time, she realized just how little she knew about the man beside her—the man who held her fate in his hands.
The carriage slowed as they neared the town, and Anastasia forced herself to focus on the present. The town itself was bustling with activity. Market stalls lined the streets, filled with fresh produce, fabrics, and trinkets, while the townspeople moved about in a lively rhythm. It was a world apart from the cold walls of the palace, a vibrant, living place that seemed to breathe with energy.
As they stepped out of the carriage, Anastasia couldn't help but feel the eyes of the townspeople on her. She was dressed like a noblewoman, walking beside the Duke, but beneath the silk and lace, she was still a slave—still an outsider in this world of wealth and privilege.
The Duke led her through the crowd, his hand resting lightly on her lower back, guiding her through the throng of people. His touch was gentle, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through her, a reminder of the tension that simmered just beneath the surface.
They visited several merchants, the Duke inspecting various goods with a discerning eye while Anastasia remained quiet, watching him. There was something about the way he moved, the way he commanded attention without saying a word, that left her both captivated and unsettled.
At one point, they stopped at a jeweler's stall, and the Duke gestured toward a delicate necklace, the pendant a shimmering sapphire. The jeweler looked to Anastasia with a polite smile.
"Would the lady like to try it on?"
Her heart skipped a beat. The Duke's gaze was on her, his eyes dark and unreadable. She hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Was this another game? Another way to remind her of her place?
Before she could answer, the Duke spoke. "It suits her."
His voice was low, but the weight of his words hung in the air between them, heavy with something unspoken. The jeweler quickly moved to place the necklace around her neck, and as the cool metal touched her skin, she felt the weight of the Duke's attention settle over her like a cloak.
When she looked up at him, his expression was still inscrutable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes that made her heart race. Was it desire? Or was it something darker, something she couldn't yet understand?
As they continued through the town, Anastasia couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, not just by the townspeople but by the Duke himself. His gaze seemed to follow her, and every time their eyes met, the tension between them grew thicker, more intense.
When they finally returned to the carriage, the sun was beginning to set, casting the town in a warm, golden light. As they sat in the quiet of the carriage, Anastasia couldn't help but glance at him once more, her mind swirling with questions and doubts.
"Why did you bring me here today?" she asked softly, unable to keep the question inside any longer.
The Duke's eyes met hers, and for a moment, she thought he might finally give her a real answer. But instead, he leaned closer, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down her spine.
"Because I wanted to see how you would handle being seen."
The words lingered in the air between them, heavy with implications she couldn't quite grasp. But before she could process the meaning behind his words, the Duke shifted back in his seat, his attention turning toward the window, as if the conversation was over.
Anastasia's heart pounded in her chest. His cryptic answer left her with more questions than before. Why did he care how she was seen? What was he trying to test or prove by bringing her here, dressing her up, parading her through the streets like some sort of prize?
The carriage rumbled through the countryside, the silence between them thick with unspoken thoughts. Anastasia found herself studying the Duke out of the corner of her eye, her mind racing. He was a puzzle she couldn't piece together, a man who could be cold one moment and almost tender the next.
What was it that he saw in her? Why had he spared her life? And what, if anything, did he know about her past—her lineage—that he wasn't telling her?
These questions clawed at her, but she dared not ask again. Not yet. The Duke had made it clear that he would only reveal what he wanted, when he wanted. Pushing him further could only put her in greater danger.
Instead, she shifted her focus to the feel of the silk dress against her skin, the weight of the sapphire necklace still resting against her collarbone. The opulence of it all made her uncomfortable. She wasn't used to this—being dressed like a noblewoman, treated like someone of importance. It felt like a costume, a mask she was forced to wear, but it was only hiding the truth. Beneath the fine clothes, she was still a slave, still a girl with no real power, at the mercy of the Duke's whims.
But why, she wondered, did she feel this pull toward him, this strange tension that both frightened and excited her? Every time he looked at her, every time his hand brushed hers or his voice dropped to that low, intimate murmur, she felt something stir inside her. It wasn't affection, not exactly, but it was undeniable.
Desire.
Anastasia flushed at the thought, embarrassed by the very idea. She couldn't allow herself to feel anything for him, not when her life was so precariously balanced on his goodwill. Yet, the way his gaze lingered on her today, the way he had chosen to bring her here, dressed like this, stirred something deep within her—a longing for something more than just survival.
As they rode in silence, her mind turned to the Duke's earlier words. I wanted to see how you would handle being seen.
Seen.
For so long, she had lived in the shadows, unseen, unnoticed. But now, the Duke had brought her into the light, forced her into a role she hadn't asked for. He was testing her, pushing her limits, but to what end? What did he expect from her?
The carriage finally came to a stop as they arrived back at the Duke's estate. As the door opened and the Duke stepped out, he offered his hand to help her down. Anastasia hesitated for a moment before placing her hand in his. The touch sent a spark through her, and she quickly looked away, hoping he hadn't noticed the effect he had on her.
The servants were waiting as they entered the estate, bowing as the Duke passed, but he barely acknowledged them. His focus remained on Anastasia, who walked beside him in silence. She felt their eyes on her—curious, judgmental, perhaps even envious—but she kept her gaze forward, trying to ignore the flutter of anxiety in her chest.
As they reached the main hallway, the Duke paused, his eyes lingering on her once more. "You handled yourself well today," he said, his voice low.
Anastasia's heart skipped a beat. Was that praise? Or just another veiled test?
"Thank you, Your Grace," she said quietly, unsure of what else to say.
His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he finally turned and began walking toward his study. "Rest, Anastasia. Tomorrow will bring new challenges."
She stood there for a moment, watching him disappear down the corridor, her thoughts swirling. What did he mean by new challenges? And why did it feel like he was always one step ahead of her, pulling her into a game she didn't know the rules to?
With a heavy sigh, she made her way back to her quarters. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she leaned against it, closing her eyes and trying to steady her racing heart.
What was she getting herself into?
She moved to the small bed in the corner of the room and sat down, the delicate fabric of her dress pooling around her. She reached up to touch the necklace at her throat, the cool sapphire pressing against her skin. Everything about today felt surreal, like she was playing a part in someone else's story, a story where she didn't belong.
She had been spared by the Duke, dressed up like a noblewoman, paraded through town—and yet, she still had no answers. Only more questions. And with every passing day, she felt more entangled in the Duke's world, more trapped by the secrets he refused to share with her.