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The Duke's wife

Theqyn25
7
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 7 chs / week.
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Synopsis
Selene, a girl haunted by a cruel stepmother and the memory of her mother, found herself caught in a royal web of obligation. A decree from the king demanded a marriage of convenience—a forced union with Prince Damon, rumored to be the devil himself. Her stepmother, driven by her own wicked ambitions, shoved Selene into this treacherous arrangement, forcing her to stand in for the step-mother’s daughter, Merceline. Damon, the brooding second prince of Beville, was under pressure from his family to marry. He'd always kept a distance, but when he met Selene, with her startlingly vibrant green eyes, something shifted within him. There was a spark, a connection he couldn't ignore. This wasn't just a political alliance; it felt... different. "Selene, look at me. It's not what you think," Damon urged, his voice low and husky. "Stop," Selene whispered, backing away, her heart hammering against her ribs. "I don't want to hear anything." Damon's touch, though gentle at first, lingered on her skin. He wanted to reach into the turmoil he saw in her eyes, to unravel the secrets she held within. "I love you, Selene, my sweet wife," he murmured, his voice laced with a desperate plea. "I can't hide it anymore." Selene, caught in a whirlwind of feelings, found herself drawn to Damon's intensity. He was everything she'd never dared to hope for. But deep down, a fear of the unknown lurked within her. "Answer me, wife," he pressed. "I... I don't know what to say," she stammered, her breath catching in her throat. "I didn't hear that," he said, a hint of steel in his tone. "Repeat yourself." His touch tightened. He pinched her chin, and a flicker of pain laced her confusion, but he quickly followed that with a tender kiss on her chin, smoothing away any sign of distress. "Give me time to sort out my feelings before I confess to you," Selene whispered, her voice barely audible. Her heart pounded. "Good," Damon murmured, and then, with no warning, his lips met hers. Their encounter was just the beginning of a dangerous game. Their forced marriage hid a passion that burned hotter than any decree, and one question hung heavy in the air: could their hearts find a way through the politics and deceit, or would the rumors of the devil prince become a chilling reality?

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Chapter 1 - Chapter 1

"My Lady, you have to wake up! Today is your wedding day!" Anna, my handmaid, practically shrieked, her voice a jarring intrusion into the pre-dawn stillness. It was six o'clock, or perhaps it was a later hour, the rising sun casting long shadows across the room. Six PM? My mind struggled to reconcile the bizarre time with the frantic energy around me.

I was marrying a man I barely knew, a substitute for my stepsister, Merceline. My stepmother, Ellena, was a whirlwind of weeping and frantic pronouncements to Father about the 'divine match' that had been arranged for her "precious" daughter. Everyone seemed to anticipate, or at least bemoan, the pairing of myself, a seemingly insignificant maiden, and the infamous Duke of Creston.

The Duke, Damon Ivanov, was the second prince of the Beville kingdom, his title earned on the bloody fields of battle. The whispers circulating through the castle painted him as heartless, a monster, a devil. But all I knew for certain was that a royal decree, orchestrated by the King, demanded this alliance. My father's steadfast support of the royal family had apparently woven a web of duty and obligation that snagged me in its threads.

"My Lady, what are you thinking about? Let's get you ready for the wedding before your mother arrives." Anna's hand, warm and strong, gently nudged my shoulder.

Mother. The woman who had been a hurricane of drama in my life since my own mother's death eight years ago. And now, she was orchestrating my marriage to a stranger, a rumour-coated phantom. A man who was whispered to be the embodiment of darkness.

"The bath is ready," Anna continued, her voice surprisingly calm. She guided me towards the chamber, where the scent of jasmine and rose petals hung heavy in the air.

As the handmaids scrubbed me clean, using fragrant soaps and rose petals to enhance my beauty, a cold dread seeped into my bones. I was not enjoying this, not even a little. The frantic energy of the wedding preparations felt like a physical burden. Merceline, my stepsister, was undoubtedly luxuriating in her room, oblivious to my mounting anxiety, my silent resentment.

I was dressed in a gown of emerald green satin, the material clinging to my waist and flowing gracefully from there. It complemented my mother's emerald eyes, the only clear inheritance I had from her. My bright red hair, usually a vibrant cascade, was tied in a perfect bun, the elegant adornment of a diamond emerald necklace and matching earrings gleaming against it.

In the mirror, I saw a bride, captivating, yes, but the image held no reflection of the turmoil within. Why had my father chosen this path? Why had he decided to sacrifice me, to throw me to the wolves, instead of Merceline? Had my own worth become so insignificant in his eyes? Before my mother's passing, I was his favourite child. Now, everything felt skewed, lopsided. This house, once a refuge, now felt like a prison.

"You look beautiful, My Lady," Anna murmured, her voice a soothing balm against the storm raging inside me. She saw the tempest in my eyes, the unspoken questions swirling.

"I hope…I really hope he's not as bad as they say," I whispered, the words barely audible above the rhythmic swishing of water.

"My Lady, you are a strong woman. Your good nature will melt even the coldest heart." Anna's words, though simple, offered a flicker of hope. I forced a smile, trying to match her calm demeanor.

"I will miss you, Anna."

"I will miss you too, My Lady. This house will be lonely without you."

The bride had arrived.

I stepped into the grand hall, a kaleidoscope of faces swirling before me. Familiar faces, yes, but also faces that were new to me, strangers who represented the distant world of nobility, and unfamiliar ones, representing the world's distant people. They all seemed to be silently judging me, their expressions ranging from pity to disdain. It was my fate, a bitter pill to swallow. My wedding. A spectacle of marriage. A culmination of the lives. A future foretold.

My father escorted me down the aisle, my gaze directed downward, avoiding the withering glances of the noble ladies. They saw me as a pawn in a game, a sacrifice on the altar of political expediency. But that was what my future held, whether I liked it or not.

Reaching the final steps, my father placed my hand in Damon's. My breath hitched as I looked up. I met his gaze, and there, reflected in his emerald green eyes, I saw not the monster whispered about, but a reflection of myself.

Astonishment warred with a surprising sense of calm. Those eyes were exactly like mine. They were not the eyes of a heartless man; there was something more, something deeply human in them.

He was strikingly handsome, with a sharp jawline and full lips. He was far more compelling than any description I had heard.

"We are gathered here today to unite two souls," the priest intoned, his voice resonating through the room.

"Do you, Damon Ivanov, take Selene Davids to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I do," his voice, rich and resonant, filled the hall. A tremor ran through me.

"Do you, Selene Davids, take Damon Ivanov to be your lawfully wedded husband?"

"I do," I whispered, my voice barely a breath. I felt his gaze on me, an unspoken weight, but I met it with a fragile resolve.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife."

"You may kiss the bride."

The kiss was light, almost tentative, yet it sent a shiver through me. The rumors, the whispers, the dreadful anticipations all seemed to dissolve. In that moment, I saw not a monster or a prince, but a man. And in that shared gaze, I saw my own reflection. A reflection of hope.

The wedding celebration followed, a whirlwind of toasts, dances, and laughter. Damon, surprisingly, was a thoughtful and engaging conversationalist, engaging me with genuine interest. My fears began to recede like fog before the rising sun.

It was not the fairy-tale wedding I had imagined, yet it was mine. And as I looked at Damon, now my husband, a sense of peace settled over me. What kind of life awaited me? I didn't know. But as I looked at him, in his eyes, I saw a man who looked at me with genuine appreciation and a sense of warmth. I was not merely a princess or a duke's prize, but a woman, a partner, and I believed that he saw that in me. My unknown future was now filled with promise, filled with potential. The unknown was now an exciting chapter.