In a dimly lit, cramped room, Stella blinked open her weary eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on her. For a moment, she saw nothing but shadows around her, her vision blurred as she tried to take in her surroundings.
An unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, a mixture of damp stone and cold iron that sent a chill down her spine. As her senses returned, she noticed an odd sensation binding her wrists and ankles. She tried to move, only to hear a low, echoing clink reverberate in the stillness. Looking down, she saw thick, half rusted chains coiled around her limbs, keeping her bound to the bed beneath her.
Panic flared in her chest as she tested the chains, struggling to pull her arms and legs free. But every movement only made the iron cuffs dig deeper into her skin, their cold edges unforgivably causing her pain. Her world was confined to the soft, smooth surface of the bed, a strange luxury compared to the shackles that restrained her.
She realized with a sinking feeling that she was chained to this bed, her range of movement confined to its narrow frame. Her feet dangled just above the floor, unable to reach it, while her hands barely moved enough to touch her lap.
Breathing rapidly, Stella closed her eyes, trying to remember what could have led her here. Just as fragmented memories began piecing together, a faint crackling sound pulled her attention back to the room. Her head turned toward the door, where a narrow line of light was seeping in, illuminating the floor in a thin, golden glow.
The door creaked open, and a shadowed figure stepped inside. Stella squinted, her eyes not yet accustomed to the sudden burst of light.
The figure moved with a composed grace, each step accompanied by the rhythmic tap of heels on the wooden floor and the quiet rustling of heavy, elaborate fabric. As the man approached, he paused, the lamplight revealing his face—a face that was both familiar and fearsome.
"How have you been?" His voice was low, almost a purr, laced with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver through her spine.
"Grand Duke?" she whispered, recognizing him instantly. Her throat tightened, fear mingling with confusion. "Why am I here? And why am I chained? Did I…did I do something wrong?"
Her question lingered in the air as her voice cracked with desperation. The Grand Duke's expression flickered, a muscle tensing in his jaw.
For a brief second, he seemed to struggle with something, his gaze averting. But then, his hand lifted, reaching toward her face, brushing a stray tear from her cheek with a forced gentleness. She flinched under his warm touch, but he didn't pull away.
"Stella," he said softly, his voice wavering, "You've done nothing wrong, my dear. Nothing at all." He paused, and she saw a hint of something dark and cold in his eyes as he forced a small smile. "But…please. First stop crying." His voice had a slight edge, as though he was suppressing something far less kind.
With a steady hand, he poured water from a jug on the side table into a glass and handed it to her. She hesitated, her fingers trembling, before taking the glass. The water was cool on her tongue, calming her slightly as she set the glass back down.
Once she had settled, the Grand Duke leaned closer, his face now inches away from hers, his gaze had no compassion. "Stella," he began, his voice dangerously calm, "Do you remember the event we attended together last Friday?"
She nodded, feeling a pit form in her stomach.
"Yes, last Friday," he continued. "I asked you a question—a very important question." His tone shifted, pressuring her as his fingers traced the chain around her wrist. "I asked you to marry me, didn't I?"
Her heart thudded as she swallowed, looking away. She remembered the moment vividly, how he had proposed in front of hundreds at a royal event. She had never been more embarrassed or more determined in her rejection before.
He had taken her rejection with grace then, or so she had thought. But now, as she met his gaze, she saw the storm brewing beneath his composed surface.
"And your answer was…?" he prompted, a chilling smile playing on his lips.
"I said no," she whispered, her voice shaking as she looked back up, meeting his intense gaze.
"What? Could you be a little louder?"
"No…said no." She trembled under his fearsome gaze.
He released a low, almost amused chuckle, his eyes narrowing as he toyed with the chains that bound her. "Ah, yes," he mused softly, his fingers curling around the iron links. "You did say no."
But in an instant, his smile vanished, replaced by a seething rage that made his expression harden. Without warning, he tightened his grip on the chain and yanked her toward him. Stella gasped, feeling her arms strain painfully as he forced her face closer to his, his fingers digging into her skin with unrestrained fury as he held her by her shoulders tightly.
"How dare you," he snarled, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling with anger. "You…you humiliated me. In front of hundreds of people! Do you have any idea what you've done?"
Her mind spun with fear, but she forced herself to remember why she had said no. Stella had been born without any family, an orphan who had clawed her way up from nothing. She had worked for years to make a name for herself as a dressmaker, crafting gowns that even noblewomen desired.
Her talent had earned her a coveted invitation to the royal hunting event, where she had finally stepped into the world she had long admired from afar. She was criticized by many and appreciated by few yet she held her ground in the fearsome upper society.
It was at that banquet where she had caught the Grand Duke's eye. But she knew she could never love him. She didn't desire power, and there was no attraction between them. But remained friends with him, the Grand Duke helped her in ways no one could. With his help, she was able to earn a title for herself from the King.
Her only reason behind the refusal for the proposal was the difference in their social status. She had no desire to fall into the battle of acquiring the most wanted man in the Kingdom.
The Grand Duke's hand gripped her chin now, holding her in place as his rage turned to a twisted determination. "You rejected me so easily," he said, his voice a menacing whisper. "Do you know how hard I tried to win you over? And yet, you still refuse to love me?"
Stella's heart pounded, but she forced herself to remain calm, meeting his gaze with a strength she didn't have yet felt it building up in her heart. "I don't love you, Grand Duke," she said firmly. "And I never will."
For a moment, he seemed taken aback by her defiance. His grip slackened slightly, as though her words had cut heart into millions of pieces. But then his lips curled into a cruel smile.
"Is that so?" he murmured, leaning in until their faces were barely an inch apart. She could feel his breath against her skin as he whispered, "Then you will stay here, locked in this room, until you change your mind."
"Never," she spat back, her voice steady even as fear coursed through her veins. "You can keep me here, but you can't force me to love you."
His eyes darkened, and he grabbed her by her arms, pulling her up so close that their noses nearly touched. But this time, she didn't look away. She held his gaze, unyielding, her defiance as sharp as the chains that bound her. "You'll never have me," she whispered, her words like ice.
"We'll see about that," he replied, his voice almost a low growl. He lingered for a moment, his eyes tracing her face with a twisted blend of desire and resentment, before he abruptly released her. She fell back against the bed, breathing heavily as he stood up.
Without another word, Caelestis turned and strode toward the door. He paused just long enough to cast a final, calculating glance over his shoulder before slipping out, leaving her alone in the darkness that swallowed the room, trapping her in its cold silence.
The only sound remaining was the faint, chilling clink of the chains that held her. Stella lay back, her heart pounding as she stared into the shadows, wondering if she would ever escape the nightmare she found herself in.