The night air still clung to Amara's skin, but the coldness of the garden could not compare to the chill she felt inside. The maids' words echoed in her mind, growing louder and louder as she tried to make sense of what she had heard. A substitute. A replacement.
As she stood near the hedge, away from the prying eyes of the guests, the rustling of footsteps behind her broke the silence. Valen's tall figure emerged from the shadows, his presence as commanding as ever.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, his tone still soft but laced with something darker beneath. He stepped closer, stopping just short of where she stood, the space between them heavy with tension.
Amara didn't know how to respond, so she simply nodded, still staring out at the dimly lit horizon. He was silent for a moment, watching her, as if waiting for her to speak. But when she didn't, his voice broke through the silence once again.
"You'll need to get used to their words," he said, his voice low but steady. "It won't stop. Not for a while."
She turned to him, her eyes sharp. "Is that how you see me? As just a replacement?"
Valen looked at her, his gaze unwavering, and for the first time, she saw something in his eyes—something more than the cold, indifferent mask he had worn earlier. "No," he replied, his voice firm. "You are not just a replacement."
A quiet pause followed, and Amara felt the weight of his words settle between them. But before she could say anything more, the sound of chattering voices from inside the hall interrupted their moment.
Valen's eyes narrowed, and then, with an almost imperceptible sigh, he straightened his posture. "Come with me," he said, taking a step toward the entrance.
Amara hesitated but followed him as he made his way back to the ballroom, her heart pounding in her chest. The guests were still mingling, their voices loud and laughter filling the air, but as they entered the room, a sudden hush fell over the crowd. Every eye turned toward them, whispers that had been floating around now dying down as the tension in the room thickened.
Valen moved with an assured confidence, and Amara couldn't help but feel small beside him, like she was merely following his lead in a dance she didn't understand.
When they reached the center of the room, Valen turned to face the gathered guests. His deep voice cut through the silence, drawing everyone's attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his tone commanding, "tonight, I make an announcement that should have been made earlier."
Amara's breath caught in her throat as Valen's eyes shifted to her, his gaze intense and unwavering. "This woman here," he said, his words ringing out in the quiet hall, "is not just my bride, but my true and rightful wife."
A murmur of surprise rippled through the room, and Amara's heart skipped a beat. What was he doing? Was this his way of asserting control? Or was it something more?
"I know the rumors," Valen continued, his voice unwavering, "and I know the whispers that have followed us tonight. But make no mistake." His eyes darkened, and his voice became colder, sharper, like steel. "Amara is the only woman who has the right to stand by my side. And anyone who dares to question that will have to answer to me."
The words were like a declaration of war. The room went still. A few nobles exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared to speak.
Amara's heart raced as she looked around the room. The weight of the announcement hung heavy in the air. The eyes of the guests were no longer filled with judgment, but with curiosity. They seemed to be reassessing her—wondering who she really was and why Valen had made such a bold declaration.
Her hands, still trembling from the earlier tension, clenched at her sides. She wasn't prepared for this. She had expected to fade into the background, to be forgotten after the wedding night. But now, Valen had placed her in the center of it all. She was no longer just the substitute bride. She was his real wife, as he had called her.
Valen turned his attention back to her, and for a moment, their eyes met. There was a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze—something distant, something deep. But before she could try to understand it, he broke the connection and faced the guests again.
"You will treat her with the respect she deserves," he ordered, his voice carrying the authority of a king. "This is no longer a matter of rumors or assumptions. She is mine, and I will not tolerate anything less than respect for her from anyone in this room."
The room remained silent, but Amara could feel the tension shift. Some of the guests began to murmur to each other, their voices lower now, more respectful. It was clear that Valen's announcement had made an impact.
But as the whispers began to fade, a sinking feeling settled in Amara's chest. She realized something that chilled her more than the rumors ever could: Valen was not just protecting her reputation—he was claiming her as his own. And in doing so, he had put her in a new kind of danger.
Amara's heart still raced as the whispers in the room began to settle. The weight of Valen's words lingered in the air, pressing down on her chest. She had never imagined that her life would change so dramatically, so quickly. The guests, once critical and skeptical, now seemed to regard her with a mixture of curiosity and cautious respect. But even as they quieted, Amara couldn't shake the unease that twisted in her stomach.
A moment later, a new voice echoed through the room. The sound of heavy footsteps drew nearer, and Amara instinctively turned to see her father, King Aldric, approaching through the crowd. His tall figure cut through the gathered nobles, his regal presence commanding their attention.
King Aldric, her father, was a man known for his unyielding rule. His eyes, sharp and calculating, were always studying the people around him, watching for signs of weakness, and commanding respect with a single glance. But now, as he neared Valen and Amara, there was an unusual tension in his features—his face taut with uncertainty, his brows furrowed in a rare display of concern.
Amara felt her stomach tighten at the sight of him. She knew her father well. He was a man who cared little for sentiment and everything for power. For him, alliances were a means to an end, and marriages were tools in his game of politics. But seeing his daughter suddenly placed at the center of a storm—not as a mere pawn, but as the subject of such an unexpected declaration—was clearly more than he had bargained for.
Valen had his back straight and his posture commanding, like a king standing tall in front of a challenge. But there was an edge to his stance now, a subtle warning, as if he, too, was preparing for what would come next. King Aldric stopped in front of them, his eyes flicking first to Amara and then to Valen. The silence between them stretched longer than it should have, the tension palpable.
"You've made quite the statement, Duke Valen," King Aldric finally said, his voice smooth but carrying a weight that demanded respect. His gaze, however, was sharp, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. He was trying to maintain control, but Amara could see the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. Her father did not like surprises—especially not ones that threatened to upend his carefully laid plans.
Valen met her father's gaze without hesitation, his own eyes unwavering. "The truth needed to be made clear, Your Majesty," he replied, his tone respectful but firm. "The rumors about my wife were beginning to cloud the reality of our union. It was time to address it publicly."
Amara stood quietly between the two men, her pulse racing as she watched the exchange unfold. She had seen her father maneuver through countless political situations, but this… this was different. This was personal. And for the first time in a long while, she wondered if Valen's declaration had been more than just an assertion of control.
King Aldric's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered Valen's words. Then, without breaking eye contact, he turned his attention to Amara, his gaze colder than she remembered.
"Is this true, Amara?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.
Amara hesitated, caught in the storm between the two powerful men. She knew her father wanted an answer, but what did he expect her to say? She had never been asked about her feelings in this marriage, and now, with her father standing there, demanding the truth, she wasn't sure what to say at all.
"Yes, Father," she replied quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's true. I'm married to Duke Valen."
Her father didn't react immediately, but the tightness in his jaw and the coldness in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. He didn't approve. He didn't like this turn of events, and it was clear that he saw this as a disruption to his plans, not a declaration of loyalty or love.
"I see," King Aldric said, his voice flat, as though the words held no real emotion. "And I assume you're both satisfied with this arrangement."
Valen's lips quirked slightly, the barest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, but he didn't say anything in response. He knew better than to engage in a direct conflict with the king in front of everyone. But Amara could feel the tension mounting between the two men, like a battle waiting to erupt.
Her father's gaze never left her as he spoke again, his tone cool and measured. "Duke Valen, I understand that your reputation precedes you, and perhaps you believe this declaration settles everything. But remember, you may have gained a wife, but I have lost a daughter. And losing a daughter is never a simple matter."
Valen's expression hardened at the mention of her father's words, but he did not break his silence. He remained still, waiting for her father to finish.
King Aldric turned away from them and began to move toward the other side of the room, his back straight, his shoulders stiff with displeasure. Before he reached the exit, he stopped and glanced over his shoulder, a final warning in his voice.
"We'll speak again, Amara. But understand this—your actions have consequences. This is a marriage, not a fantasy. I will not have you making waves in my kingdom."
With that, he turned and exited the ballroom, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease.
Amara stood still, her heart still thumping in her chest. Her father's words had struck deep, and the weight of his expectations now rested squarely on her shoulders. It wasn't just about her marriage to Valen. It was about how her father, the king, would now perceive her every move.
Valen, however, didn't show any sign of fear or concern. He simply turned toward her, his eyes softer now, though the intensity remained.
"Don't worry about him," he said quietly, his voice almost gentle. "He may be your father, but this marriage is between you and me now."
Amara's chest tightened at his words, the magnitude of what she had gotten herself into finally beginning to settle in. Her father had made it clear that he wasn't happy. And now, with Valen's announcement, everything had changed—forever.
Back in the ballroom, the air still hummed with tension as the guests processed Valen's bold declaration. The eyes of the nobles flickered between Amara and Valen, whispers buzzing in the background like a swarm of angry bees. But amidst the quiet murmurs, one person stood apart from the crowd, her face pale with shock.
Seraphine.
Amara's sister had been hiding in the corner of the ballroom, her delicate features drawn in a tight frown as she watched the scene unfold. Seraphine had always prided herself on her beauty, grace, and cunning—traits that had made her the favored daughter in their family. She had always seen herself as the rightful bride of Duke Valen, believing that he would be hers by birthright. That was, until the fateful night when the rumors had spread of his brutal past and the bride he had lost.
At first, Seraphine had been relieved when she learned that she would not have to marry the man who was feared across the kingdom for his ruthlessness. Instead, it would be Amara—her younger sister, the one with no voice or say in her fate. She had been content in her freedom, convinced that Amara's role as a mere "substitute" bride would keep her from the horrors that had plagued the other women Valen had married. For a while, she had even felt a strange sense of superiority—after all, Amara was never meant to be anything more than a pawn in their father's plans.
But now, as she stood frozen in the corner, watching Valen's public declaration of Amara as his "true and rightful wife," everything she had believed was crumbling. The words hung in the air like an unspoken truth, cutting through the room and making it painfully clear that Amara was not the substitute, not the replacement. She was the wife.
Seraphine's hands trembled at her sides, her sharp features twisting with disbelief. She had assumed that Amara would play the part of the invisible, overlooked bride—just a shadow in the marriage, a filler until Valen found someone more suitable. But now, Amara was standing at Valen's side as his equal, as the one he had chosen, not out of necessity but out of something more. Something Seraphine could not understand.
The realization stung deep, the jealousy and resentment rising in her chest like a bitter poison. It didn't help that everyone around her seemed to be shifting their gaze toward Amara, treating her with respect and awe. No longer the meek, replaceable sister—Amara was now the centerpiece of this union, and it infuriated Seraphine beyond measure.
She turned away from the scene, her heart thudding angrily in her chest. The noise of the ballroom seemed distant, muted by her rage. She couldn't stand it—she couldn't stand that her sister, whom she had always looked down upon, had somehow claimed the life that was meant to be hers.
In a sharp, swift motion, Seraphine pushed through the crowd and fled toward the grand staircase. The cool night air greeted her as she stepped outside, but the chill did nothing to ease the storm within her. She couldn't stop the thoughts that rushed through her mind, each one more bitter than the last.
How dare she? Seraphine thought bitterly. How dare Amara take what was mine?
The image of Valen declaring her sister as his "true wife" replayed in her mind like a broken record. She had spent so long convincing herself that the Duke's past, his violence, and his cruelty would never be enough to win Amara's heart—or her father's favor. But now, it seemed, things were changing. The power that Valen held in his eyes as he stood before the crowd, proclaiming his ownership over Amara, was undeniable. And it wasn't just her position as his wife—it was the respect, the authority, the attention she commanded in that very moment.
Why not me? Seraphine thought, her chest tightening with jealousy. Why is it her? She's nothing compared to me!
She leaned against the stone railing outside, her thoughts a swirling mess. The cool breeze brushed against her face, but the icy feeling of being left behind still clung to her. Her plan—her entire future—had just crumbled before her eyes.
Seraphine was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't hear the soft steps approaching behind her until a voice broke through the silence.
"Seraphine," a low voice called, and she turned quickly, startled.
There, standing just a few paces away, was Lord Adrian, a man who had always shown interest in her—a man whose name was often whispered in the same circles as hers. He was tall, with dark hair and a sharp jawline, his eyes studying her with an expression that was both sympathetic and calculating.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked, stepping closer to her. His tone was casual, but there was an undercurrent of something more in his words.
"I… I needed some air," Seraphine replied, her voice tense as she wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye. She had never allowed herself to show weakness, but tonight was different. Her entire world had shifted, and she was struggling to keep control. "I can't believe it. She's not supposed to be his wife. She's just a replacement."
Lord Adrian raised an eyebrow at her, his lips curling into a small smirk. "Are you sure about that?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.
Seraphine's eyes flashed with anger. "Of course, I'm sure! She's never been more than a pawn. Just a way to settle a political alliance. She doesn't deserve him, and she doesn't deserve this."
Adrian's gaze softened slightly, but there was a calculating glint in his eyes. "The world doesn't always give us what we deserve, Seraphine," he said softly, stepping closer. "But there's still time for you. If you want it."
Her head snapped toward him, her mind racing. She wasn't sure what Adrian meant, but the way he looked at her—the way his eyes lingered—spoke volumes. She was on the verge of something, something that could change everything.
The thought of losing her position, of losing everything she had worked for, sent a surge of anger through her veins. Amara might have been Valen's true wife now, but Seraphine wasn't going to stand idly by. She wouldn't let her sister steal everything away from her.
"No," Seraphine said, her voice firm. "I won't let her take everything from me. Not when it was meant to be mine."
Adrian's smile grew a little wider. "That's the spirit. You don't have to let her have it all. You can still have what you want."
Seraphine looked back toward the ballroom, her heart heavy but determined. She might have lost the battle tonight, but the war had just begun.
Seraphine's mind was still swirling with anger and disbelief as Adrian stepped closer to her, his expression calm but his eyes carrying a hidden intent. She could still feel the sting of her sister's rise, the crushing weight of her own failure to secure what she believed was rightfully hers. As she stood there, the cool night air did little to quell the fire burning inside her.
"You don't have to suffer this, Seraphine," Adrian's voice was soft, almost coaxing. "You don't have to let her take everything from you. There's still a way. A much easier way."
Seraphine glanced at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of what he meant, but all she saw was a subtle smile and a glint of something darker in his eyes. She didn't know why, but something about him seemed different tonight, like he had been waiting for this very moment. And for the first time in a long while, Seraphine felt a strange pull toward him.
"I'm so tired of losing," she muttered under her breath. Her voice was rough with frustration, and she barely realized how vulnerable she sounded. But Adrian didn't miss it. His gaze softened, though his expression remained calculated.
"You won't lose," he said quietly, reaching into his jacket pocket. "Not tonight."
Before she could ask what he meant, he produced a small vial of dark liquid, its contents shimmering in the light of the torches nearby. "This will help you relax, Seraphine. It'll make you feel better—more confident."
Seraphine frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. "What is that?"
"Just a little something to take the edge off," Adrian replied with a smooth smile. "You've been through a lot tonight. You deserve to feel good, to feel powerful. Trust me."
Seraphine hesitated for a moment, but the temptation was strong. She had been so consumed by her anger and frustration, so desperate for something to regain control. In that moment, she allowed herself to trust him. She took the vial from his hand, staring at it for just a second longer before uncorking it and pouring the contents into her wine.
Adrian watched her as she raised the glass to her lips, his expression unreadable. With a subtle nod, he watched her drink, the liquid disappearing in one swift motion.
"Good," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the night. "You deserve it, Seraphine."
She swallowed the wine, its warmth spreading through her body almost immediately. At first, it was a slight heat that began to rise in her chest, but within moments, that heat intensified, creeping down her neck and into her limbs. She suddenly felt flushed, a strange warmth settling in her skin as though her blood had been set alight.
She blinked rapidly, feeling disoriented, but when she looked up at Adrian, everything around her seemed to blur. He was standing there, just inches away, his eyes now darker, more intense. The wine had clouded her thoughts, leaving behind a haze of desire she couldn't explain.
Her pulse quickened, and without thinking, she leaned toward him. Her lips parted slightly, and without even fully registering the movement, she found herself pressing her mouth against his. The kiss was urgent, filled with an overwhelming sense of need that seemed to come from nowhere. She was no longer aware of her surroundings, no longer concerned with the fact that Adrian was not the man she had initially intended to seek comfort in.
Her hands found their way to his chest, pushing him closer, the heat between them intensifying. Adrian didn't pull away. Instead, he responded eagerly, his hands finding her waist as he deepened the kiss, his lips pressing firmly against hers. The world around her seemed to spin as the warm, intoxicating feeling continued to spread throughout her body.
They broke apart briefly, gasping for breath, but neither one of them spoke. Seraphine's mind was clouded, her thoughts muddled with a mixture of anger, lust, and confusion. She looked at Adrian, but her blurred vision made her see him differently. Through the fog of the potion, Adrian's features began to shift.
His dark hair, his commanding presence—it all began to take on the form of the man she had been longing for, the one she had once imagined as her own. The face before her morphed, and she no longer saw Adrian. Instead, she saw Duke Valen—the man she thought she had lost, the one she still desperately wanted.
She leaned closer again, her lips brushing against his as her hands moved to his neck. The intensity of the moment consumed her, and she pressed herself against him with a sense of urgency that surprised her. The heat in her body had become unbearable, a fire she couldn't control, and all she wanted was to feel closer to him.
"Valen…" she whispered, her voice filled with yearning as she kissed him once more.
Adrian smirked against her lips, but he didn't correct her. Instead, he allowed her to lead the kiss, following her with a practiced ease. He knew exactly what he was doing. He had planned this from the moment he had slipped that potion into her drink. And now, as she kissed him with such fervor, he could see that she was lost in the fantasy he had created.
They pulled away from each other, the room spinning as Seraphine's pulse raced. Adrian, sensing the need to take control, guided her toward the nearby staircase that led to the private quarters. Without a word, he helped her to her room, where the door slammed shut behind them.
Seraphine stumbled into the room, her hands still fumbling for the buttons of her gown, her mind clouded with thoughts of desire. The heat in her body was unbearable, and Adrian, with a knowing smile, moved in to help.
As they kissed again, a sense of urgency overcame them both. Everything else faded away—her anger, her jealousy, her confusion. All that remained was the heat, the fire that consumed her thoughts and her body. She allowed herself to be swept away by it, giving in to the sensations that overwhelmed her.
But even as their bodies entwined, a small, lingering thought danced at the back of Seraphine's mind. This isn't right. This isn't him. But the thought was fleeting, drowned out by the overwhelming wave of intoxication, both from the wine and the fantasy she had built in her mind.
Seraphine's breath was uneven as the heat from the potion coursed through her veins, her body reacting in ways she didn't fully understand. The world around her seemed to blur, and Adrian's presence consumed her, pulling her closer and closer with every step. She couldn't escape the overwhelming feeling that she was lost, both in her thoughts and in the desire building inside her.
As they stumbled into her room, the door shut behind them with a soft click. The weight of the moment settled in, but Seraphine was no longer sure of what she wanted. The fire inside her, fueled by both the potion and the emotions she couldn't control, surged again. She leaned toward Adrian, their lips meeting in a kiss that was slow at first, hesitant, but soon became more urgent, as though they had both been waiting for this moment.
Adrian's hands slid gently down her back, and Seraphine, caught in the heat of it all, didn't stop him. She had always prided herself on control, but now it felt like control was slipping through her fingers. His lips left hers, trailing a line of kisses down her neck, each touch making her pulse quicken.
When his lips reached the sensitive spot just beneath her ear, Seraphine gasped, a shiver running through her body as the sensation sent a jolt of warmth throughout her. She closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath, but the heat was undeniable, and she felt the overwhelming pull of the moment.
Adrian didn't stop. He continued to press kisses down her neck, his hands following the path of his lips as he gently moved the fabric of her gown aside. Every touch, every kiss, felt like a spark against her skin, igniting her further. The room seemed to close in on her, the air thick with tension as he moved lower, tracing the delicate lines of her skin.
Seraphine's mind was clouded, and for a moment, she let herself surrender to the feeling—the longing, the heat, the need for something to break the tight grip of her anger and frustration. But even as she gave herself over to the moment, there was a flicker of doubt in the back of her mind. This wasn't what she had planned. It wasn't who she thought she was with.
Yet, she couldn't stop herself. Her thoughts were tangled, her emotions a whirlwind, and Adrian's touch only deepened the storm inside her. She could barely distinguish between what was real and what was imagined. In her altered state, she could almost convince herself that this was what she truly wanted.
slowly he came down to her nipples holding one on his hand the other one sucking hard she then left a moan "Ahh..." leaving him more intensified .he then looked at her face and kissed her deeply as if he was eating her .
then he took one of his hand and opened her down part of the dress . This left shock to seraphine's mind but she could do nothing , he then put a finger into her leaving a moan "AHH .. mmm"
She wanted to stop him but she liked it to much that she didn't wanted to say anything . Just then he put another finger into her and on the other hand he started licking her neck .
Then he asked her, "what's my name?"
She couldn't answer him . He then put his hing into her leaving her in a deep shock she shouted "Valen.." Then he moved closer to her ear and spoke" it's Adrian not Valen"