The night in the northern Rubersia Empire was like a blade. Lucian inhaled as soon as he stepped out of the carriage, and the cold air rushing into his lungs immediately triggered a shallow cough. The thin cape draped over his shoulders was merely an ornament, failing to block the biting chill. His hair whipped against his cheeks in the fierce wind, and he instinctively hunched his shoulders. Frosthold, the fortress of the Grand Duchess, looked as if it would swallow him whole.

As he entered the castle gates, a cold corridor stretched out. The butler, Jerome, was as expressionless as a shadow, and though Lucian trembled, he did not stop walking. The walls were sturdy, the windows small, and instead of paintings, massive swords hung on the walls. This was a fortress. Nothing more, nothing less.

The assigned bedroom was large, but it felt orderly rather than warm. Lucian stood before the fireplace, but the flames were insufficient to drive away the chill.

"Butler."

He turned toward Jerome. His voice was polite, but his fingertips were obsessively fidgeting with the edge of his thin sleeve.

"The Grand Duchess is currently on a border patrol."

He closed and opened his eyes. As he sat on the sofa, the spot where he touched felt cold. He pulled a book of poetry from his breast pocket but did not open it. With his gaze fixed on the snowflakes outside the window, a mutter escaped his lips.

"I am fine. Please do not treat me like a child."

It was a warning to himself. Jerome stiffened for a moment before speaking.

"Lord Lucian, you will become someone precious to our Grand Duchess."

His tense shoulders lowered ever so slightly. After Jerome withdrew, Lucian sat on the edge of the bed and rested his chin on his knees. In the room where only the crackling of the fireplace remained, he slowly turned the silver bracelet on his wrist. The wedding ceremony was only a few hours away.

Just then, footsteps were heard from the end of the hallway. Lucian lowered the book of poetry onto his lap and slowly raised his head.