The sound of the Douglas carriages' wheels echoed over the damp cobblestones, each impact making her heart beat violently. Emily leaned out of the main hall window, trying to keep her expression calm as the black banners, bearing the two wolves, fluttered in front of Count Carter's mansion.
A chill ran down her spine. That elegant and majestic symbol was also a reminder: many houses had fallen for defying the Douglas duchy. Their lineage did not only impose respect and honor—it was a constant danger.
She took a deep breath and carefully smoothed the trembling lace of her dress. She had to appear calm. A Carter never showed fear, even if her heart was beating like a war drum inside her.
—Emily, please —her mother whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder—. Remember what is at stake.
Emily nodded without taking her eyes off the window. —I know, Mother. Don't worry... I will not make mistakes.
The sound of the main door cut through the silence. Sophia The Mondring, duchess of the Douglas duchy, crossed the threshold with firm steps, her imposing presence and her barely contained smile, colder than warm. Behind her walked Lusian, her son, dressed with sobriety, with a composure that made the weight of his lineage evident.
Emily noticed how the servants automatically lowered their gaze. The mere presence of the Douglas filled the room with an invisible weight, a gulf between them and any other family—one no one dared to cross.
The greetings were measured, cordial, almost ceremonial. Soft words, tense smiles, calculated glances. Nothing was spontaneous; everything was a carefully rehearsed choreography of diplomacy and survival.
Emily forced herself to breathe calmly, although every fiber of her body was alert. Every gesture, every movement of the Douglas seemed to tell her that there was no room for mistakes here. And she had to comply.
Sophia spoke with a melodic voice, almost maternal, each word carefully measured: —My son has been eagerly awaiting this meeting. It is an honor for us to forge bonds with a family of such good reputation.
Emily responded with a slight bow, controlling the trembling of her hands, letting her voice sound firm but contained: —The honor is ours, Duchess. My family thanks you for the opportunity to receive you in our home.
While the adults exchanged formalities, Emily felt the weight of Lusian's gaze on her. It was not the cold arrogance she expected from a Douglas heir; there was something different: a mixture of doubt and distance, as if he too did not wish to be there any more than necessary.
"Curious," Emily thought. "He does not seem to enjoy this any more than I do."
Shortly after, Sophia, with that natural authority that did not need to impose itself, proposed that the young people go for a walk in the gardens. Emily understood the implicit message: they wanted them to talk alone, to seal with words what would soon be a political bond rather than a chosen destiny.
She took a breath and guided Lusian toward the gardens, under a gray sky that threatened rain. The scent of lilacs floated around them, delicate, almost like a veil, mixing fragrance with silent tension. Every step she took seemed to bring her not only closer to him, but also to a future she did not yet know how to face.
The Carter mansion garden breathed silence. Between the ivy-covered arches, the scent of lilacs seemed denser, as if even the flowers were holding their breath for what was about to happen. Emily walked beside Lusian Douglas, her steps measured, her face serene... but inside, the feeling of breaking was almost palpable.
Lusian stopped in front of the white marble fountain, the water reflecting a gray sky like a dull mirror. He did not look at her immediately; he seemed to evaluate, calculate... or prepare himself to avoid the danger that Emily's closeness represented.
—Lady Carter —he finally said, with a firm voice, but carrying a sadness that did not seek compassion—. I do not wish to continue with this engagement.
The words fell like a blunt blow. Emily felt the world tilt beneath her feet; a piercing cold ran through her back and froze her breath.
—P-pardon...? —she whispered, unable to hide her disbelief.
Lusian kept his gaze on the reflection in the water, as if it were safer to confess the truth to a mirror than to the young woman in front of him.
—It is nothing personal —he continued, with a thread of contained tension—. I just believe... we would both be better off following different paths. I do not seek an imposed union, nor an engagement born of convenience.
For a moment, Emily felt the world stop. She pressed her fingers against the lace of her dress, holding her breath. She had to maintain composure. She could not show fear... even if she felt it.
—I understand, young Master Douglas —she said, with intact courtesy, although each word weighed like a silent reproach—. Even so... such a sudden decision could be misinterpreted. Noble houses... are always under scrutiny.
Lusian blinked. He had not fully considered that social pressure.
—Misinterpreted?
Emily lowered her gaze, just enough to hide the trembling of her lips, but without showing submission.
—Yes, my lord. A change of this magnitude could affect the reputation of both families... and mine in particular. I beg you... grant me some time.
He finally looked at her, and in his expression there was more than surprise: caution. He knew what she represented for his future... and yet, something in her determination made him lower his guard for a moment.
Emily took a measured step toward him. Her dark, shining eyes reflected an iron will, that of someone fighting against a destiny she did not choose.
—I promise I will not give you any reason for displeasure —she said softly, but firmly—. Allow me... to prove that I am worthy of remaining by your side. That I can be the wife you deserve.
The plea was not in her words. It was in her eyes. In her restrained breath. In the dignity she struggled to maintain in front of fear.
Lusian blinked, surprised. She was not a girl begging; she was a woman facing her own abyss. And he, aware that he might be standing before the one who would kill him in the future, felt a mixture of alertness and restrained fascination.
—Lady Emily... —he murmured, softening his tone—, you do not have to prove anything.
—Even so... —she interrupted him, with a trembling but determined smile—. Let me do it. If, after some time, your decision does not change, I will accept it without objection. But until then... allow me to show you that I can meet your expectations.
The wind slipped through the lilacs, shaking her blond hair and skirt. For a moment, Lusian did not see the daughter of a count, but a woman facing her destiny with grace and courage... and he knew he had to remain vigilant.
Finally, he nodded slowly. —Very well, Lady Carter. I will not make a decision yet.
Emily lowered her head in a perfect bow, hiding the trembling of her breath. —Thank you for your understanding, my lord. I promise not to disappoint you.
They walked back toward the hall without saying another word. The flowers seemed to bow as they passed, and the sky filtered a soft light, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
Only when she crossed the threshold of the mansion and the echo of their footsteps faded did Emily allow a whisper to escape: —Just a little time... that is all I need.
The echo of the Douglas carriage wheels faded into the mist, leaving behind a silence that weighed on the air. Emily barely managed to maintain her composure until the main door closed. Then she ran upstairs, went to her room, and upon closing the door, all the weight of the visit fell upon her.
She collapsed to the floor, hiding her face in her hands. Tears burst out uncontrollably, mixed with a cold fear she could not name. Every thought was a silent reminder: the Douglas family does not forgive, and Lusian, although he seemed kind, was a member of that ruthless family.
Soon after, her mother, Emma Pierce, entered hurriedly. —Emily... daughter, please calm down —she whispered, kneeling beside her.
Emily did not respond. She only clung to her mother, trembling, while holding back her sobs.
Downstairs, the main hall was wrapped in the same tension. Count Daniel Carter, his eldest son Manuel, and Alejandro Jones, a close family friend, remained silent with somber faces. Each of them knew the magnitude of the danger: the Douglas were known throughout the kingdom for their cruelty and for not accepting any slight.
The feared day had come.
Two months earlier, the Douglas duchy had sent a letter announcing its intention to formalize the engagement between Lusian Douglas The Mondring, second son of Duke Lawrence Douglas, and Emily Carter. Since then, the mansion had lived under a cloud of anxiety. Rejecting a proposal from the Douglas was unthinkable; it was equivalent to a death sentence.
Everyone knew it. Especially Alejandro Jones. At nineteen, he carried a bloodstained past: his family had been exterminated by order of Damian Douglas eighteen years ago. Only he survived, rescued by the knight William Lion, who fled with the baby in his arms. Since then, Alejandro had grown under the protection of the Carters, serving as their squire and family friend.
The mere memory of the blue banner with the winged serpent made rage burn through his veins. "One day, I will finish what my father could not." That promise kept him standing, and Emily's danger only fueled his determination.
The silence became unbearable until Manuel broke it: —Father... I beg you, let us ask His Majesty to break this engagement.
Count Daniel Carter lifted his gaze, tired and solemn. —Son, doing so would only prove we are a weak family. And weak families... do not survive.
—But they are the Douglas! —Manuel replied, his voice breaking with rage—. They always do whatever they want! They have massacred nobles, villagers... and no one stops them! Why must we bow to them? We are one of the thirteen great houses of the kingdom, we have rights!
The count sighed, holding his cup between his fingers. —I know. But the kingdom cannot afford an internal war. If the other houses rose against the Douglas and, by some miracle, won... the price would be chaos. The Empire is already watching our borders. The king knows this, and prefers to keep the Douglas as a necessary evil rather than lose the entire kingdom.
—And Emily? —Manuel insisted, with a thread of desperation—. Are we going to hand her over to that demon without doing anything?
Daniel closed his eyes, trying to remain calm. —Manuel... we are nobles. And nobles have duties. Emily will do what she must, for her family and for the stability of the kingdom.
—But it is not fair —Manuel whispered, powerless.
The sound of soft footsteps interrupted them. Emily and her mother descended the stairs. Their eyes were swollen, but their posture remained dignified.
Upon reaching the hall, Emily hugged her brother tenderly. —I am fine, Manuel —she murmured, although her voice trembled slightly.
The count looked at her sadly. —What did he tell you, daughter?
Emily lowered her gaze. —Lusian... said he wanted to cancel the engagement.
A freezing silence filled the room. But it was not relief. It was terror.
Emma placed a hand on her chest; Manuel paled; Alejandro clenched his teeth in contained rage. Because they all knew what it meant.
A Douglas does not break an engagement. A Douglas eliminates the problem.
In the minds of the Carter family, those words did not sound like "freedom." They sounded like a death sentence.
Count Daniel lost his breath for a moment, as if someone had struck him in the chest. Then, slowly, he took his daughter's hands, his fingers cold as marble.
—Emily... —he whispered, with a rare tremble— you must do everything possible to earn his affection. Do not allow this engagement to be broken. Please... do it for your family.
Emily nodded slowly, swallowing the knot in her throat.
—I will, Father. I will prove... that I am worthy of being his wife.
Daniel hugged her tightly, hiding his desperation. —Forgive me, my daughter. Forgive me for not being able to protect you.
She smiled gently, although her eyes were empty. —There is nothing to forgive. This... is my duty.
From a corner, Alejandro watched in silence, fists clenched. Every word he heard was a reminder of his helplessness. While the others cried in silence, his heart burned with a single certainty: sooner or later, the Douglas would pay.