The annual summit of the five families had begun with its traditional masquerade, and his older, officially forbidden to attend after her last public defiance, had broken into her own home through the servants’s entrance. The silver owl mask she wore, had belonged to her mother. The gown, too, a pale gray silk that shimmerred like moonlight, altered hastily to fit.

She’d bound her copper brown hair into an unfamiliar style, pinned with her mother’s pearl combs. No one would recognize her. Not her father, the Earl of Thornwald, not her brother, Matias, who stood near the deis in a crimson devil’s mask, accepting congratulations from the other patriarchs, and certainly not the man Matias planned to destroy.

Rowan Halver, Duke of Ashen Cross, stood alone near the terrace doors, his oldest breath caught. 8 years. 8 years since she’d last seen him, when she’d been a girl of 19 and he’d been 25, already cold with the weight of his father’s sudden death. He’d left for the north without saying goodbye. Not to her, anyway.

She’d been no one, just Matias’s little sister, a shadow in braids who’d watched the boys train from her window. But she’d always noticed him. Tonight he wore a stark black mask that covered only his eyes, as if he couldn’t be bothered to fully participate in the charade. His dark hair was longer than she remembered, brushing the collar of his perfectly tailored coat.

He held a glass of wine he wasn’t drinking, and his gaze swept the room with the focus of a predator. She recognized that look. He was searching for threats. Smart man. If only he knew how close the knife already was to his back. Isolder had overheard the plan three nights ago, pressed against the wall outside her father’s study, while Matias laid out the scheme with disturbing precision.

The historical document, incomplete, manipulated, the bribed historian. The final piece, access to the Duke’s private study during the summit while he was distracted by negotiations, steal or destroy the original land grant for Greymore Veil, and Matias could claim half the Blackstone fortune in arbitration.

The Duke would be ruined publicly, legally, completely, and his oldest family would finally have what her father had coveted for two decades. Control of the only Blackstone deposit in the kingdom. She should walk away. Let the powerful men play their games. She’d learned that lesson years ago. Neutrality kept you safe, kept you fed, kept you from becoming collateral damage.

But then she thought of Lana, Lady Lana Halvard, who’d been her best friend since childhood, who still sent her secret letters signed sparrow to his oldest, Ren. Lana, who would watch her brother lose everything while his older family celebrated. Isolda couldn’t do it. Not to Lana, not even to the cold, distant Duke who’d forgotten she existed.

She descended the gallery stairs with her heart pounding in her ears. The orchestra swelled into a waltz. Couples formed on the floor. Isolda wo through the crowd, keeping her head down until she stood directly in the Duke’s line of sight. Then she looked up, his gaze locked on hers. For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. His eyes, God, she’d forgotten how blue they were, even through the mask, narrowed slightly, as if trying to place her.

The older forced herself to smile, slow and deliberate, and extended one gloved hand in invitation. The Duke set down his wine glass. He crossed the distance between them in four strides, took her hand, and led her onto the floor without a word. His palm was warm through her glove.

His other hand settled at her waist with absolute certainty, and then they were moving, spinning into the rhythm of the waltz, and his older forgot how to breathe. “I don’t know you,” he said quietly. His voice was deeper than she remembered, edged with suspicion. “No,” his older agreed. You don’t. Should I? She tilted her head, letting the mask’s silver beak catch the candle light.

Does it matter? You looked like you needed rescuing from that corner. His mouth twitched, almost a smile. I’m not often rescued. Then tonight is full of firsts. They turned together, perfectly synchronized, despite never having danced before. He was an excellent lead, confident, precise. She’d expected nothing less. But there was something else beneath the control.

Something hungry in the way his gaze kept returning to her face, as if he was memorizing her. “You’re staring,” his older murmured. “You asked me to dance.” “I’m trying to determine why. Perhaps I find brooding dukes irresistible. Or perhaps you want something.” Too clever. Dangerously clever. Is older. Let her smile sharpen. Everyone wants something. your grace.

The question is whether we’re brave enough to take it. His hand tightened fractionally at her waist. And what do you want? The waltz carried them toward the terrace doors, away from the crowd’s center. His older leaned closer, close enough that her breath ghosted against his jaw, close enough to feel him tense.

“I want,” she whispered, “to tell you that your study is not as secure as you think. that someone plans to take from you what you cannot afford to lose and that you have less time than you imagine to stop them. The Duke went absolutely still. They were no longer dancing, merely swaying in place while the music continued around them.

His blue eyes burned through the mask. Who are you? Isolda stepped back, breaking his hold. Her heart was a wild thing in her chest. Someone who dances better than she lies. Wait. But she was already moving, slipping between couples, heading for the terrace doors. She heard him follow, heard the sharp command in his voice as he called after her, but his older was faster, smaller, and she knew this house.

She burst through the doors into the cool night air, hiked up her skirts, and ran. Behind her, the Duke’s silhouette filled the doorway. His older reached the garden gate, glanced back once long enough to see him standing in the spill of light from the ballroom, still watching, and then she vanished into the darkness beyond. The morning after the masquerade dawned gray and tense.

His older sat in the breakfast room of the Kestrel Manor, pushing eggs around her plate and trying to look innocent. Across from her, Matias read the society papers with a smirk, occasionally reading aloud, particularly vapid commentary about last night’s event. Her father hadn’t yet emerged from his study. Everything felt wrong. The air was too thick, too quiet, like the moment before a storm broke.

The door opened. Her father entered, followed by Matias’s man, a wiry, nervous creature named Corbin, who served as both valet and spy. Corbyn whispered something urgent in Matias’s ear. Matias’s smirk vanished. “What is it?” the Earl demanded. Matias set down the paper very carefully. The Duke of Ashen Cross left the ball early last night.

He spent the remaining hours locked in his study with his steward and his head of security. This morning he doubled the guard rotation. No one enters his private wing without written permission, signed by him personally. The Earl’s face darkened. Someone warned him. It would appear so. Both men’s gazes swung to his older. She kept her expression blank, bored even, though her pulse hammered.

“Why are you looking at me? I wasn’t even at the ball.” “No,” her father said slowly. “You weren’t, were you? I was in my room. You locked me in yourself.” Matias leaned back in his chair, studying her with unnerving intensity. He’d always been able to read her better than anyone. The curse of growing up together, of him knowing every one of her tells.

The Duke, Matias said conversationally, apparently danced with a woman in a silver owl mask, a woman who spoke to him privately, then vanished before he could learn her identity. He’s been asking questions. His older stomach dropped, but she forced a laugh. And you think that was me, Matias? I was 15 the last time the Duke saw me.

I wore braids and collected insects. He wouldn’t recognize me if I stood on his doorstep and announced myself. Precisely, her father said coldly. Which makes you the perfect weapon. No, no, no, no. The earl circled the table slowly, a predator evaluating prey. Someone in this house leaked our plans, someone with enough conscience to warn our enemy.

That someone is either you, daughter, or one of the 30 servants, all of whom have been with this family for years, and have far more to lose than a disgraced girl with no prospects. I didn’t. It doesn’t matter. Matias cut her off, his voice flat. What matters is what happens next. The Duke knows we’re moving against him, but he doesn’t know how or when.

He secured his study, but that just means we need a different approach. He stood crossed to his oldest chair and crouched beside her so they were eye level. His handsome face, so like hers, copper brown hair and sharp features, was utterly devoid of warmth. “You’re going to visit Lady Lana,” Matias said softly.

“Your dear childhood friend. You’ll apologize for losing touch, blame father’s restrictions, weep prettily. Lana always had a soft heart. She’ll welcome you. And once you’re inside the Ashen Cross household, you’ll discover exactly what the Duke knows and where he’s hidden the original land grant. I won’t do it. Matias smiled. Yes, you will.

Because if you don’t, I’ll ensure every family at this summit knows about your secret correspondence with Lady Lana. How you’ve been feeding information to the enemy for years. The Duke will think you’re a spy. Lana will think you used her. And father will cast you out with nothing. His older hands trembled in her lap.

You would destroy me to get what you want. I would do anything, Matias said, rising. To get what our family deserves. Father’s carriage leaves for Ashen Cross in 2 hours. You’ll be on it. The Halver estate sprawled across the northern hills like a sleeping giant. Dark stone tower turrets, endless windows that caught the afternoon sun, and threw it back in blinding gold.

Isolder remembered it from childhood visits back when the families had been allies before borders and greed had poisoned everything. The carriage rolled to a stop in the circular drive. A footman opened the door and his older stepped out on unsteady legs. She wore a daydress of modest blue, her hair in a simple twist.

No mask this time, no silver silk, just herself. Walking into the lion’s den, a butler greeted her at the entrance. Miss Kestrel, we received your letter this morning. Lady Lana is expecting you in the drawing room. Of course she was. Lana had responded within an hour, her reply full of exclamation points and joy.

8 years of stolen letters of secret friendship maintained despite everything, and Lana had welcomed her back without hesitation. Guilt sat like lead in his older stomach. The butler led her through familiar corridors. God, she remembered racing down these halls with Lana when they were girls, laughing until they couldn’t breathe, and stopped before an open doorway.

Inside, Lady Lana Halver stood backlit by the window, and his older throat tightened. Lana had grown beautiful. Her dark hair fell in soft waves to her shoulders, and her gray eyes sparkled with mischief as she rushed forward and caught his older in a fierce embrace. Bren, Lana breathed, using the old nickname.

God, I can’t believe you’re here. Really here. His older hugged her back, eyes burning. I’m sorry it took so long. Don’t apologize. Just don’t disappear again. Lana pulled back, holding his older at arms length to study her. You look exactly the same. No, that’s a lie. You look exhausted. Tea immediately.

And you’re staying for dinner. I won’t hear otherwise. Lana, I don’t know if nonsense you’re staying. A new voice, low and cool, spoke from the doorway behind them. Sister, you didn’t mention we were expecting company. Isolda turned. Rowan Halver stood in the threshold, still wearing riding clothes, his dark hair windswept.

No mask now, just those piercing blue eyes that locked onto his older with laser focus. He didn’t recognize her. She could see it in the way his gaze moved over her face, polite but distant. Why would he? The girl he’d known had been a child. This woman was a stranger, but something in his expression shifted, a flicker of curiosity. His eyes narrowed slightly.

Lana bounced between them, oblivious to the tension. Rowan, this is Isolda Kestrel. Do you remember from when we were young? She’s finally come to visit properly. Kestrel, Rowan repeated, his voice carefully neutral. He inclined his head. Miss Kestrel, welcome to Ashen Cross.

Your grace, Isolda managed, her voice didn’t shake. Small mercies. Isold staying for dinner? Lana announced. Is she? It wasn’t a question. Rowan’s gaze never left Isolder’s face searching for something. Testing. I wouldn’t want to impose, Isolda said quickly. You’re not imposing. Lana looped her arm through his shoulders.

Tell her, Rowan, we never have interesting people at dinner. Just you glowering at the soup course. Rowan’s mouth twitched. I don’t glower. You absolutely glower. It’s your natural state. Lana grinned at his older. He thinks being terrifying is the same as being ducal. Lana see glowering. Despite everything, his older felt her lips curve. She’d forgotten this.

Lana’s gift for making tension dissolve into laughter. Watching the Duke struggle not to smile at his sister’s teasing was unexpectedly charming and dangerous. She couldn’t afford to find him charming. Rowan’s eyes returned to his older. Have we met before, Miss Kestrel? Recently, perhaps? Her heart stopped. I don’t believe so, your grace.

It’s been many years. H. He didn’t look convinced. You seem familiar. I have one of those faces. No, Rowan said slowly. You don’t. The moment stretched. Lana glanced between them, confused. Is older forced herself to hold the Duke’s stare to not flinch, to give nothing away. Finally, Rowan stepped back. Dinner is at 7.

I’ll have the staff prepare a guest room. Oh, excellent, Lana said, brightening. Then you can stay the night. The summit runs all month. You must stay longer. Please, Isolda, I’ve missed you. Isolder’s mission had been to get inside the house, learn what the Duke knew, find the document.

She should be celebrating this easy success. Instead, she felt sick. I’d be honored, she heard herself say. Rowan nodded once, sharp and assessing, then left without another word. When he was gone, Lana grabbed his older hands. Ignore my brother. He’s been insufferable since the masquerade last night. Apparently, some mystery woman danced with him and vanished.

And now he’s convinced there’s a conspiracy a foot. His older blood went cold. What did he say? Nothing specific. Just locked himself in his study all night, changed all the security protocols, and has been prowling the house like a caged wolf. Lana rolled her eyes. Men are so dramatic.

Perhaps he has reason to be cautious. Perhaps. Lana’s expression softened. But whatever he’s worried about, I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been so lonely, isolder. The summit is all politics and posturing, and I have no one to talk to. Having you here feels like coming home. Isolder pulled her into another hug to hide the tears threatening to fall.

She was the spy Lana didn’t know to fear. She was the conspiracy the Duke was hunting, and she had no idea how to survive what came next. Dinner was a torture of manners and subtext. Isolder sat across from Rowan at a table that could seat 20, with Lana between them, providing a buffer of cheerful commentary. The food was excellent, roasted duck, glazed vegetables, delicate pastries, but his older could barely taste it.

She was too aware of the Duke’s attention, the way his gaze kept drifting to her when he thought she wasn’t looking. “So, Miss Kestrel,” Rowan said, cutting into his duck with surgical precision. What brings you to Ashen Cross after all these years? I wanted to see Lana. We’ve stayed in touch through letters, but it’s not the same letters.

Something flickered in his expression. How did you manage that? I was under the impression your family had cut ties with ours rather completely. Is older met his eyes. My father doesn’t read my correspondence. Doesn’t he? Rowan set down his knife. How progressive. Lana jumped in. Rowan, stop interrogating her. Is old as our guest.

I’m merely making conversation. You’re doing your Duke voice, the one you use when you’re trying to intimidate people. I don’t have a Duke voice. Yes, you do. It’s all low and menacing, and Lana dropped her voice an octave. Tell me your secrets, peasant. Despite herself, his older laughed. The sound surprised her. Rowan’s gaze snapped to her face, arrested. See, Lana crowed.

Even his older agrees. I said nothing. Isolder protested, still smiling. You didn’t have to. Your face said everything. Lana turned to her brother. You know, Isolda used to watch us train when we were boys. She was very dedicated. Sat in her window every morning. Rowan’s expression shifted.

Did she? Isold wanted to kick Lana under the table. I was 12. I watched everyone train. No, just us. Lana corrected innocently. Particularly Rowan and Matias. Do you remember the day they fell in the pond? Lana, Rowan warned. They were dueling with wooden swords, being very serious and masculine, and then Matias got overconfident, lunged, missed, and dragged Rowan in with him.

His older laughed so hard she fell off her window sill. His older pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “I had bruises for a week.” “You laughed?” Rowan asked, tilting his head. It was very amusing, your grace. I’m sure. His mouth curved. Not quite a smile, but close. Did you laugh when I climbed out covered in pond algae? Especially then.

This time he did smile brief and devastating, and he sold his breath caught. God, he was handsome when he smiled. She’d forgotten that. No, she’d never known it. The boy she’d watched had been serious, dedicated, kind to his sister, but distant to everyone else. “This man was something else entirely.” “Dangerous,” her mind whispered.

Isolder looked away, focusing on her wine glass. “Well,” Lana said brightly, oblivious to the charged silence. “I think it’s lovely that we’re all together again, even if the circumstances are complicated. How diplomatic,” Rowan murmured, his gaze still on his older. I learned from the best. The rest of dinner passed in a blur of careful conversation and unspoken questions.

When Lana finally excused herself, claiming exhaustion from the previous night’s ball, Isolda moved to follow. Miss Kestrel, Rowan said quietly. A moment. Lana glanced between them, suddenly sharpeyed, then smiled slowly. Of course, don’t keep her too long, brother. She must be tired from the journey. When they were alone, Rowan rose and circled the table until he stood directly before her. Too close.

Close enough that his older had to tilt her head back to meet his eyes. You danced beautifully last night, he said softly. Is older’s heart stuttered. “I beg your pardon.” “At the masquerade.” “The woman in the silver owl mask. She danced like someone who’d had years of training, but rarely had the opportunity to use it.

his hand lifted, and for a breathless moment, Isolda thought he might touch her face. Instead, he reached past her and plucked her wine glass from the table. She also drank white wine, not red, just as you’ve been drinking all evening. Many people prefer white wine, your grace. True, he set the glass down, but didn’t step back. And many women have copper brown hair, and many women might have known about my study’s vulnerabilities, but very few women would risk themselves to warn a man they supposedly haven’t seen in 8 years. Is older’s throat was dry. I

think you’re mistaken. Am I? Rowan’s voice dropped lower. Tell me, Miss Kestrel, do you dance better than you lie? Her own words thrown back at her with perfect accuracy. She should deny it, laugh it off, play the innocent guest. Instead, she found herself whispering, “What gave me away? Your eyes.” His gaze traced her face.

I spent all night trying to place them. Green, but not simply green. Moss and gold, depending on the light, and the way you hold yourself, like you’re always ready to run. I didn’t recognize you as the girl from my childhood, but I recognized you as the woman who saved me. I didn’t save you. I gave you a warning.

Why? The question hung between them, waited with consequences. Isolda could feel the walls closing in, the mission her family had forced on her, the truth she couldn’t speak, the attraction building in the scanned space between their bodies. Because,” she said carefully, “whatever else is true. I don’t believe you deserve to be destroyed by lies.

” Rowan studied her for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, he stepped back, giving her room to breathe. “Your family sent you here to spy on me. It wasn’t a question.” Isold nodded stiffly. “And yet you warned me first. Why?” “Your sister is my friend.” “Just my sister?” The question felt dangerous, loaded. Isolder made herself hold his gaze.

I don’t know you, your grace. Not anymore. But I know Lana, and I won’t, her voice cracked. I won’t let my family hurt her. Not if I can prevent it. Rowan’s expression softened infinite decimally. You’re in an impossible position. Yes. And your family will punish you if you fail them. Yes.

Then we’ll have to be very careful, Rowan said quietly, about how we proceed, his older blinked. We You warned me, Miss Kestrel. That makes you an ally whether you intended it or not. And I protect my allies. His mouth curved into something hard and promising. Stay close to Lana. Let your family believe you’re succeeding in your mission.

And in the meantime, you and I are going to have a very interesting conversation about what exactly your brother is planning. You want me to betray my own family? I want you to survive, Rowan said simply. Everything else is negotiable. He bowed, a perfect formal gesture that somehow felt intimate, and left her standing alone in the dining room, heart racing and future uncertain.

Isolda pressed her hands to her face. She’d come here to spy. Instead, she’d made an alliance with the enemy her family wanted destroyed. And the worst part, the most damning, terrifying part was that she trusted him more than she trusted her own blood. The first full day at Ashen Cross passed in a haze of normaly that felt like walking a tightroppe.

Is old awoke in a guest room too comfortable for her guilty conscience, dressed in one of the simple gowns Lana had insisted on lending her, and went down to breakfast, prepared for interrogation. Instead, she found Lana alone in the breakfast room, reading correspondents and eating toast with alarming speed. “Good morning,” Lana said brightly, waving a letter.

“Rowan’s already gone. He rides at dawn. Some ducal habit he refuses to break. We have the entire morning to ourselves. I thought we could walk the gardens. You used to love the rose maze.” His oldest slid into a chair, accepting tea from a footman. That sounds lovely. It should have been simple, easy. two friends reconnecting after years apart.

But his older couldn’t shake the awareness that every moment here was borrowed, every smile a potential weapon being forged against her. They spent the morning wandering the grounds, and for brief stretches, Isolda almost forgot the danger. Lana talked about everything and nothing. Court Gossip, a novel she was reading.

Her frustration at being excluded from summit negotiations despite understanding politics better than half the patriarchs present. Heroan says it’s not appropriate, Lana said, rolling her eyes as they paused by a fountain. As if being appropriate has ever made anyone powerful. Sometimes I think he keeps me wrapped in cotton wool because he’s afraid I’ll realize how boring his world actually is.

He’s protecting you. I don’t need protection. I need trust. Lana turned to his older, suddenly serious. Do you remember when we made that pact? We must have been 13. We said we’d never let men decide our futures for us. Isold’s chest tightened. I remember. I meant it. I still mean it. Lana caught her hand.

Whatever brought you here, whatever complicated reasons your father had for finally allowing this visit, I don’t care. I’m just glad you came. Guilt twisted like a knife. Lana, no explanations necessary. I know families are impossible. Yours especially. Lana’s expression turned shrewd. Matias is here for the summit, isn’t he? I saw him yesterday at the opening session.

He’s grown into quite the politician. That’s one word for it. What’s another hesitated? This was the line, the moment where she could either maintain the lie or risk everything. But Lana was looking at her with such openness, such trust, and he’s older couldn’t bear it. Dangerous, she said quietly. Matias is dangerous when he wants something. And he wants Greymore.

Lana went still. I see. I shouldn’t have said that. No, you should have. Lana squeezed her hand. Rowan knows, doesn’t he? Whatever’s happening between our families, he knows. He suspects. Good. That means he’ll be ready. Lana smiled, but it was edged with steel. My brother isn’t the man people think he is.

Cold, yes, calculating. Absolutely. But he’s also the most fiercely loyal person I know. If someone comes at him or those he cares about, he doesn’t forgive. The words settled over Isolder like a warning and a promise. They walked back toward the house in companionable silence. As they approached the terrace, Isolda saw Rowan emerge from the stables, still in riding clothes, his dark hair damp with sweat.

He stopped when he saw them, his gaze going immediately to Isold. Even from 20 paces away, she felt the impact of that look. “Brother,” Lana called. “Come be sociable.” Rowan approached with the controlled grace of a predator. Up close, he looked tired. Shadows under his eyes, tension in his jaw. He’d been working through the night, his older realized, securing his house, hunting for threats.

Ladies, he said, nodding to them both. Then, to his older, Miss Kestrel, I trust you slept well. Very well, thank you, your grace. Excellent. Then you’ll be well rested for our ride this afternoon. Is older blinked. I’m sorry. I thought you might enjoy seeing the northern border of the estate. Lana tells me you used to be an excellent rider.

His smile was polite, his eyes sharp. Unless you’d rather remain indoors. It was a test. Obviously a test. He wanted her alone. Wanted to continue their conversation from last night without Lana’s interference. Isolda lifted her chin. I would be delighted to ride with you. Your grace. Splendid. Rowan glanced at his sister. Lana.

I need you to attend the afternoon session with Lady Blackthornne. She’s been asking after you. Lana narrowed her eyes. Are you getting rid of me so you can interrogate his older? I’m being strategic. That’s what you call it. Would you prefer I call it ducal privilege? I’d prefer you not scare away my only friend with your intensity. Rowan’s mouth twitched.

I promise to be moderately less intense than usual. That’s not reassuring. But Lana eventually agreed, shooting his older an apologetic look before heading inside. Rowan watched her go, then turned back to his older. 3:00, he said quietly. The South Stable where something practical. And what exactly will we be discussing during this ride? Your grace.

Rowan leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. Everything you haven’t told me yet about your brother’s plan, and everything I haven’t told you about what I’m going to do to stop him. He left before his older could respond, striding back toward the house with the confidence of a man who knew she would come. He was right.

The south stable smelled of leather and hay. Isolder arrived precisely at 3, wearing Lana’s riding habit, deep green velvet that fit almost perfectly, and found Rowan already mounted on a massive gray stallion that seemed engineered to make him look even more imposing. He swung down when he saw her, efficient and controlled.

Can you handle Tempest? He nodded toward a smaller chestnut mare with intelligent eyes. I haven’t ridden in 2 years. That wasn’t my question. Isolder approached the mayor slowly, letting her sniff her hand. “Hello, beautiful girl,” she murmured. Tempest huffed and nuzzled her palm. “Yes, I can handle her.

” Rowan helped her mount, his hands steady at her waist, lifting her as if she weighed nothing. and his older told herself the warmth flooding her cheeks was from exertion, not from the brief contact. They rode out in silence, following a trail that wound through forest and meadow toward the northern hills. The afternoon was clear and bright, the kind of day that made everything feel possible.

After 20 minutes, Rowan led them to a clearing overlooking the valley below. “This is the border,” he said, dismounting. “Everything south belongs to Ashen Cross. Everything north is technically unclaimed, but the five families have held it collectively for two centuries under treaty. Is older slid from her saddle, studying the landscape, and Greymore Veil directly below us.

The Blackstone deposits run through the entire valley floor. Rowan moved to stand beside her, his gaze on the distant mines. My family’s held sole extraction rights for three generations. It’s worth more than half my total assets. Matias wants to claim he has historical ownership of part of it. I know.

What I don’t know is how he plans to prove that claim. Isolda bit her lip. This was it. The moment where she chose a side completely and irrevocably. He has a document, an incomplete survey from 1642 that mentions the kestrel name in association with these lands. He’s removed the annotations that clarify the context.

Rowan’s jaw tightened, removed, physically cut them from the page. The document looks legitimate without them, and he has an expert prepared to authenticate the forgery. A historian named Gilchrist. Matias paid him £10,000. Christ. Rowan scrubbed a hand over his face. That’s why he needs access to my study. The original land grant would prove the survey is incomplete.

He plans to steal it or destroy it. and you were supposed to help him. It wasn’t a question, but his older nodded anyway. Find its location. Confirm it’s there. Make it possible for someone else to act. Rowan turned to face her fully. Will you? No. Why not? Because said, meeting his eyes, “My family’s claim is built on a lie, and I won’t help them profit from dishonesty, no matter what they threaten to do to me.

” Something flickered in Rowan’s expression. Surprise perhaps, or approval. They’ll destroy you for this. I know. You’ll have nothing. No family, no home, no protection. I’m aware of the consequences, your grace. Are you? He stepped closer, his intensity focused entirely on her. Because once you commit to this, there’s no going back.

Your brother will make you an enemy. Your father will disown you. You’ll be completely alone. Then I’ll be alone,” Iselda said quietly. “But at least I’ll be able to live with myself. For a long moment, Rowan simply looked at her.” Then slowly, deliberately, he reached out and brushed a strand of windb blown hair from her face.

“The touch was gentle, almost reverent. “You’re extraordinary,” he said softly. His oldest breath caught. “I’m terrified. That doesn’t make you less extraordinary. It makes you brave. His thumb traced the line of her jaw. Barely a whisper of contact. Your family doesn’t deserve you. Perhaps no one does. Rowan’s smile was sad. Perhaps.

He dropped his hand, stepping back, and his older immediately missed the warmth. They stood in charged silence, the valley stretching out below them, the future uncertain and dangerous, and somehow, despite everything full of possibility. “What will you do?” his older asked. When Matias makes his move, counter it.

I have the original grant secured, but I need time to gather my own evidence, my own experts to refute his claim. Rowan’s gaze sharpened. Which means I need you to feed your family false information. Make them think their plan is working. What kind of information? Tell them the grant is in my study. Third shelf, red leather binding.

Tell them I keep the key in my desk drawer. Tell them security changes shifts at midnight. All lies. All lies. The real grant is somewhere they’ll never find it. But if they act on false intelligence, it proves their intent. And intent matters when I need to defend myself to the other families. Isolder considered this. You’re building a trap.

I’m building protection for myself, for Lana. And he paused, holding her gaze. For you? Why would you protect me? Because you protected me first, Rowan’s voice roughened. And because when I look at you, I see someone worth saving. Someone who chooses honor over safety. That’s rare is older. Rare and valuable.

And he broke off, shaking his head. This isn’t the time. For what? For me to say things I can’t take back. He gathered his horse’s reigns. We should return. Lana will worry. They rode back in silence, but everything had shifted. The air between them felt electric, charged with words unspoken and desires unexplored.

When they reached the stables, Rowan helped his older dismount, his hands lingering at her waist. “Thank you,” he said quietly, for trusting me. “Thank you for making it possible.” He smiled, brief and genuine, and his older heart did something complicated and dangerous. She was falling for him. The enemy, the man her family wanted to ruin. God help her.

But she was falling, and she had no idea how to stop. That evening, Isolda sat in Lana’s private sitting room while her friend braided her hair and gossiped about the afternoon’s summit session. Normally Isolda would have been content to listen, to let Lana’s cheerful chatter wash over her, but tonight her mind kept circling back to the clearing, to Rowan’s touch, to the way he’d looked at her like she mattered.

And then Lord Hartley actually suggested that women shouldn’t attend negotiations because we’re too emotional to be objective. And I swear, is I nearly threw my tea at him. Isolder blinked back to attention. What did Rowan say? Oh, he eviscerated him very politely. Of course, you know, Rowan, he doesn’t raise his voice.

He just gets quieter and more dangerous until people start apologizing without knowing why. Lana’s fingers worked through his older hair with practice deficiency. He’s been in rare form since the masquerade. I think that mystery woman rattled him. Why do you think that? Because he hasn’t stopped looking for her.

Every woman under 40 who attends the summit, he studies like she might suddenly confess. It’s rather amusing, actually. I’ve never seen him so fixated. Guilt prickled. Perhaps he’s just cautious. No, it’s more than that. Lana secured the braid with a ribbon. I think she intrigued him. Rowan spent his entire adult life being the Duke.

All duty and responsibility and carefully controlled emotion. But she broke through that. made him feel something he wasn’t prepared for. His oldest throat tightened. You can’t know that. I’m his sister. I know everything. Lana moved to sit beside her, eyes bright with mischief. Although, I must say, the way he’s been looking at you is equally interesting. Lana, don’t deny it.

I saw you two this afternoon when you returned from your ride. The tension was palpable. You both looked like you’d been arguing or Lana’s grin turned wicked or doing something far more interesting than arguing. We were discussing estate management. Is that what you call it? Isa buried her face in her hands. Please stop. Never.

This is the most entertainment I’ve had in months. Lana poked her side. Admit it. You find my brother attractive. Finding someone attractive and acting on it are different things. So, you do find him attractive? Lana, I knew it. Oh, this is wonderful. Rowan needs someone who challenges him, who doesn’t and fawn. And you? You’ve always been braver than you think.

His older dropped her hands, meeting Lana’s eyes. It doesn’t matter. Even if I did feel something, our families are on the verge of war. Nothing can happen. Why not? Because it’s impossible. Because Matias would use it against both of us. Because Isolda’s voice broke. Because I am here under false pretenses, and when the truth comes out, everyone will hate me.

Lana’s expression sobered. Isolda, what’s going on? For a wild moment, Isolda wanted to tell her everything. But Lana’s loyalty was to her brother first, and Isolda couldn’t risk dividing her friend’s heart. “Nothing,” she said instead. “Just old family tensions. You know how it is.” Lana studied her for a long moment, then pulled her into a hug.

Whatever happens, you’re my friend. That doesn’t change. Isolda held on tight, wishing desperately that were true. 3 days passed in a careful dance of normaly and subtifuge. Isolder spent mornings with Lana, afternoons pretending to explore the estate, while actually meeting Rowan in shadowed corners and empty corridors to exchange information.

He taught her the security rotations, the real ones and the false ones she would report. She learned the layout of his study, the location of decoy documents, the trap he was carefully constructing, and every time they spoke, the attraction between them grew stronger. It happened in small moments, the brush of his hand guiding her through a doorway, the way his eyes tracked her across a room, the low rasp of his voice when he said her name.

His older told herself it meant nothing, but her body knew better. She was hyper aware of him constantly, his scent of leather and pine, the precise way he moved, the rare smile that transformed his severe features. On the fourth evening, she made her first report to Matias. He’d sent Corbin to fetch her, and his older found her brother waiting in the gardens outside Ashen Cross, far enough from the house to avoid eavesdroppers.

Matias looked pleased, a dangerous expression on him. Well, he demanded. His older kept her voice steady. The land grant is in his private study. Third shelf red leather binding. I saw it. You’re certain? Yes. And security? He’s paranoid. Changed all the protocols after the masquerade, but the night watch shifts at midnight and there’s a 20-minute window when the corridors are less monitored.

Matias’s smile sharpened. Good girl. The condescension made his older skin crawl. When will you act? Soon. I need to coordinate with Gilchrist. Ensure our expert is prepared to counter any challenges. But you’ve done well, sister. He caught her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. Keep this up, and perhaps father will forgive your past indiscretions.

Isa pulled away. I’m not doing this for forgiveness. No? Then why? Because I’m buying time. Because every false report I give you is another day Rowan has to build his defense. Because I’ve chosen my side and it’s not yours. Because you gave me no choice, his older said aloud. Matias studied her suspicious.

Then he shrugged. The reason doesn’t matter. Only the result. Go back, stay close to the girl, and keep reporting. Isolda walked away before he could see her shaking. She returned to Ashen Cross to find Rowan waiting in the entrance hall. One look at her face and his expression darkened.

What did he say? Rowan asked quietly. He believed me. He’s planning his move. When? He didn’t specify. Soon. Rowan nodded slowly. Then we’re running out of time. For what? He didn’t answer directly. Instead, he caught her hand, a bold gesture in the open hallway, and pulled her toward his study. Once inside, he locked the door and turned to face her.

I need you to understand something, Rowan said. When this ends, when your brother makes his move and I expose him, the fallout will be severe. Your family will be humiliated. You’ll be caught in the middle. I know I can protect you, but only if you let me. His older heart pounded. How? Stay here at Ashen Cross.

Don’t go back to your family. Rowan, I can’t just Yes, you can. He stepped closer, his intensity overwhelming. You think I haven’t noticed? You think I don’t see how they’ve broken you down? Made you believe you’re only worth what you can provide them. You deserve better. You barely know me. I know enough. His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone.

I know you’re brave enough to warn an enemy. I know you choose honor over safety. I know that when you smile, really smile, not the polite mask you wear for others, it’s like watching sunrise. His older’s breath hitched. You can’t say things like that. Why not? Because it’s not fair. Because this is already complicated enough without without admitting we want each other.

The words hung between them. Dangerous and thrilling. Isolder should deny it, should step back, recreate distance, remember all the reasons this was impossible. Instead, she whispered, “Yes.” Rowan’s eyes darkened. “Isolda?” A sharp knock on the door interrupted them. They sprang apart as Lana’s voice called, “Roan, are you in there? Lady Blackthornne needs to speak with you about the morning session.

” Rowan closed his eyes briefly, jaw tight with frustration. “I’ll be there shortly. Shall I tell her you’re busy brooding or busy staring at his older Lana? Right. Brooding it is. When her footsteps faded, Rowan turned back to his older. This conversation isn’t finished. It has to be. No. He caught her hand again, brought it to his lips. It doesn’t.

When this is over, when you’re safe, we’re going to have a very different discussion, and next time I won’t be interrupted. He left before his older could respond, and she sagged against his desk, heart racing. She was in so much trouble, and the worst part was she didn’t want to escape. The next afternoon, everything shifted.

Is older was walking the grounds with Lana, enjoying the rare sunshine, when a carriage bearing the kestrel crest, rolled up the drive. Matias emerged, dressed for court and wearing his most charming smile. “Isa,” he called, striding toward them. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere. Lanaea stiffened beside her.

Lord Kestrel, what a surprise. Lady Lana, lovely to see you. Matias bowed all false courtesy. Then to his older, fathers requested your presence at the summit session this afternoon. He has news. His older’s stomach dropped. What kind of news? The kind best discussed in person. Matias’s eyes glittered. Come along, sister. We mustn’t keep him waiting.

I’ll accompany you, Lana said immediately. That won’t be necessary, Matias replied smoothly. This is family business. Isold is my guest and she’s my sister. I’m sure the Duke won’t mind my borrowing her for an hour. The underlying threat was clear. Isold met Lana’s worried gaze and forced a smile. It’s fine. I’ll return shortly.

But it wasn’t fine. Nothing about this was fine. Matias practically dragged her into the carriage. The moment the door closed, his pleasant mask vanished. “You warned him,” Matias hissed. His older blood went cold. “What? Don’t play stupid. The security information you gave me. I tested it last night. Send Corbyn to observe. Nothing matches.

The shifts don’t change at midnight. The corridors are fully monitored. You fed me lies.” “I didn’t. Don’t.” His hand shot out, gripping her wrist hard enough to bruise. “I know what you did. The question is why. Are you really so stupid that you’d betray your own family for a man who doesn’t even remember you existed?” Isold wrenched her arm free.

“Let me go. Answer the question. I won’t help you steal from someone who did nothing wrong.” Matias laughed, sharp and ugly. Nothing wrong? He took what should have been ours. Father spent decades trying to negotiate access to those mines, and the Halvads refused every offer. We deserve that land based on a forged document and a bribed historian. That’s not deserving.

That’s fraud. It’s strategy. But you’re too naive to understand the difference. Matias leaned back, eyes calculating. I should tell father, “Let him disown you publicly, but that would make you a martyr, and the Duke might feel compelled to protect you. So instead, I’m going to give you one chance to fix this. I won’t. You will.

Because if you don’t, I’ll destroy the Duke’s precious sister instead. His older went absolutely still. What? Lady Lana. So sweet, so trusting. Did you know she keeps a diary? Writes in it every night, tucked in the drawer of her writing desk. I wonder what secrets it contains, what scandals might be hiding in those pages, waiting to be discovered and shared with the right people.

You’re bluffing, am I? Matias pulled a folded paper from his coat. Tell me, does this look familiar? He handed it to her. Isolder unfolded it with shaking hands. It was a letter written in Lana’s handwriting addressed to Ren. My dearest friend, it read. I miss you terribly. Sometimes I wish our families would forget their stupid feud and let us be together properly.

Rowan says I’m naive, but I believe in second chances even for people who’ve made mistakes. You broke into her room is older breathed. I explored my host’s home and I found something very interesting. Years of correspondence between you and Lady Lana hidden away like guilty secrets. Your families would be furious if they knew. But more than that, those letters prove you’ve been in contact with the enemy for nearly a decade.

Imagine how that would look. You bastard. Practical sister. There’s a difference. Matias tucked the letter away. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to fix your error. You’re going to get me real information about the Duke’s security, about the grant’s actual location. And if you don’t, these letters become public. Lana will be humiliated.

Your friendship will be destroyed and the Duke will blame you for bringing scandal into his house. His older mind raced. If you expose those letters, you expose your own knowledge of them. The Duke will know you broke into his home. Will he? Or will he assume his treacherous house guest gave them to me? Matias smiled. You’re the spy is older.

Everyone will believe you handed over your friend’s secrets to save yourself. The trap was perfect. Matias had engineered a situation where any movies older made would destroy either Rowan or Lana, the two people she most wanted to protect. I need time, she said quietly. You have 2 days. Deliver real information or I deliver those letters to every patriarch at the summit.

Matias opened the carriage door. Now get out and remember the Duke might think he’s protecting you, but he’ll abandon you the moment you become a liability. That’s what powerful men do. Is older climbed out on unsteady legs. The carriage rolled away, leaving her standing alone on the drive, watching it disappear.

She had two days to save everyone she loved, and no idea how. Isolda found Rowan in his study that evening, bent over correspondence, his face illuminated by lamplight. He looked up when she entered, and whatever he saw in her expression made him rise immediately. What happened? She told him everything. The confrontation with Matias, the stolen letters, the ultimatum.

Rowan listened in silence, his jaw tightening progressively until his older worried he might shatter his teeth. When she finished, he was quiet for a long moment. He threatened Lana, Rowan said finally, his voice deadly soft. Yes, he broke into my home, stole from my sister, and is now using her private correspondence as blackmail. Yes.

Rowan moved to the window, hands braced against the frame, radiating controlled fury. I’m going to destroy him, Rowan. Not metaphorically, not politically, I’m going to ruin him so completely that his name becomes a cautionary tale. Isolder approached carefully, as one might approach a wounded predator. If you act rashly, Matias will release those letters.

Lana will be hurt. I know. He turned and the raw emotion in his eyes stole her breath. Which is why I need you to trust me completely. Can you do that? I already do. Something shifted in his expression. Relief perhaps or gratitude. He crossed to her in three strides and pulled her into his arms. The embrace was fierce, protective, and his older melted into it, pressing her face against his chest.

I won’t let him hurt you, Rowan murmured into her hair. or Lana, I promise. How can you possibly because I’ve been planning for this since the masquerade. I knew your family would escalate. I just didn’t anticipate them using Lana. His arms tightened. But that was a mistake because now he’s made this personal, and I don’t show mercy when it comes to my family.

His older pulled back enough to see his face. What are you going to do? Give him exactly what he wants. What? Rowan’s smile was sharp and cold. The information, the real security patterns, the genuine location of important documents, everything he needs to make his move. But then he’ll he’ll act. And when he does, I’ll have witnesses, evidence, and justification to bring down the full weight of five family’s law on your brother’s head.

He’ll be caught committing theft in a summit host’s home. That’s not a scandal, is older. That’s a crime that can strip a family of their seat at the table. His oldest breath caught. You want to trap him? I want to end this permanently, but it requires perfect timing. And he cupped her face gently. It requires you to play your part one more time.

Can you do that? What do you need from me? Feed Matias the real information. Convince him you’ve had a change of heart, that you’re afraid of losing everything. Make him believe he’s won. And if he suspects, he won’t because you’re going to tell him something that makes it impossible for him to resist. Rowan’s gaze held hers.

You’re going to tell him I’ve asked you to marry me. Isolder’s heart stopped. What? A false engagement announced privately to you, not yet public. It explains why you’d suddenly have access to restricted information. I trust my fiance. And it gives Matias a reason to act immediately before the engagement becomes official and you’re untouchable.

He’ll think I’ve betrayed him completely. Yes, and that rage will make him reckless. Rowan’s thumb brushed her cheekbone. I know what I’m asking. This puts you in direct danger. If anything goes wrong, it won’t. You can’t know that. No, but I know you. Isolder covered his hand with hers. And I trust you to keep your promise. Both of them.

Rowan’s eyes searched hers. Both? You said you’d protect me. And you said we’d have a different conversation when this was over. Zushi managed a shaky smile. I’m holding you to that. His expression softened into something breathtaking. You’re extraordinary. So, you’ve mentioned. I’ll keep mentioning it until you believe me.

Before his older could respond, Rowan leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. achingly gentle, devastatingly intimate. It wasn’t the kiss she wanted, but it was a promise of things to come. Two days, he murmured against her skin. We end this in 2 days. Isolda met Matias the next morning at a neutral location, a small chapel on the edge of Ashen Crosslands, far enough from the main house to avoid observation.

She dressed carefully, made herself look uncertain and fragile. Matias was waiting inside, examining the stained glass with false interest. You came, he said without turning. I had no choice. “No, you didn’t,” he faced her, assessing. “Well,” his older took a breath, channeling every ounce of fear and desperation she genuinely felt.

The Duke asked me to marry him. Matias went very still. “What? Last night,” he said. He said he could protect me if I became his wife. that my family couldn’t touch me then. And you said I said yes. The lie tasted like ash, even though it contained more truth than Matias would ever know. His older forced tears into her eyes.

I don’t want to lose everything. My home, my name, my future. I’m sorry, Matias. I know you’ll hate me, but I can’t. I can’t keep fighting this. Matias studied her, suspicion waring with triumph. If you’re lying, I’m not. I’ll prove it. His older pulled out a folded paper, the document Rowan had prepared. These are the real security protocols.

And this, she withdrew, a small brass key. This opens his private study. The land grant is in the locked cabinet behind his desk, bottom drawer. Red leather binding, gold embossing. She’d given details. Specifics enough to make it believable. Matias took the paper and key slowly, examining both. When were you planning to tell him you’re helping me? I wasn’t.

After tonight, after you take the document, I’ll stay here, marry him, pretend I knew nothing. His older let her voice break. I just want this to be over. You’re pathetic. I’m surviving. There’s a difference. Matias pocketed the key and paper. If this is a trick, it’s not. I’m tired, Matias. Tired of being caught between you and father.

Tired of being used? Let me go. You’ll have what you came for. He considered this, then unexpectedly he smiled. “You almost had me convinced you’d grown a spine, but you’re still the same frightened little girl you always were.” The contempt in his voice made his oldest hands shake, not with fear, but with rage, but she kept her head down, maintained the performance.

“When will you act?” she asked quietly. “Tonight.” Midnight. Fathers arranged a distraction. A fire in the east stable block. Nothing serious, but enough to draw the household’s attention. I’ll have 20 minutes. Matias moved toward the door. Paused. For what it’s worth, sister, you made the smart choice. The Duke doesn’t love you.

He’s using you just like we are. But at least this way you’ll be comfortable while it lasts. He left without another word. Isolder waited until the chapel was silent, then sank onto a pew and let herself shake. The performance had cost her more than she’d expected. Hearing Matias’s contempt, feeling his certainty that she was weak, it cut deeper than any blade.

But Rowan had seen her truth. Rowan knew her strength, and tonight she’d prove exactly how dangerous a frightened little girl could become. Midnight approached with agonizing slowness. Isold stood in Lana’s sitting room, watching the clock tick toward the appointed hour, while her friend chatted about the day’s events, oblivious to the trap being set around them.

Rowan had insisted Lana remain uninvolved. The less she knew, the safer she’d be. At 11:30, a bell rang through the house. Shouts followed. His older rushed to the window and saw orange flames licking the east stable roof. Oh, God. Lana breathed beside her. The horses, they’ll be safe, Isolda said quickly.

Your brother’s staff are well trained. But Lana was already moving, racing for the door. I have to help. Isolda caught her arm. Lana, wait. I can’t just stand here. Lana’s eyes were wide with worry. Those animals depend on us. Come on. She pulled his older along, and there was nothing to do but follow. They burst out into the courtyard where controlled chaos rained.

staff formed bucket lines, though his older noticed the fire was oddly contained, burning hot but not spreading. Staged just as Rowan had predicted. Rowan himself stood directing efforts, his face smudged with soot, but his eyes sharp. When he saw his older, something flickered in his expression, “A question?” She nodded once. “It’s happening.

” Rowan turned to his head of security, a grizzled man named Pierce, and murmured something. Pierce nodded and disappeared into the darkness. The trap was springing closed. 20 minutes passed in organized confusion. The fire was controlled, then extinguished. Staff began returning to their posts, and somewhere in the chaos, Matias Kestrel had broken into Rowan’s study, used the key Isolder provided, and was even now opening the locked cabinet to steal what he believed was his prize.

Isolder’s stomach churned with nervous energy. “That was terrifying,” Lana said, wiping her face. “I’m going to smell like smoke for a week.” “You were very brave,” his older managed. “Hardly, I just Lana paused, frowning. Where’s Rowan? Is older turned. The Duke had vanished from the courtyard.

He’s probably checking the damage, she said, though her heart raced. It was time. Rowan stood in the corridor outside his study with Pierce and three other guards, waiting in absolute silence. They’d given Matias exactly 15 minutes to locate the document, verify its authenticity, and commit fully to the theft. Now Rowan pushed open the study door.

Matias Kestrel stood at the open cabinet, the red leather document in his hands, a smile of triumph on his face. That smile vanished when he saw Rowan in the doorway, flanked by armed men. “Your grace,” Matias said smoothly, recovering quickly. “I heard about the fire and came to ensure that my private study remained secure.

” “How thoughtful!” Rowan stepped inside every inch the Duke. And yet here you are holding a document that requires a key I keep on my person at all times. How did you manage that? Matias’s jaw tightened. I found the door open. Did you? How convenient. Pierce, did you find the study door open when you made your rounds an hour ago? Lock tight your grace, just as you ordered.

Rowan moved closer, predatory and controlled. Let me tell you what I think happened. I think you used a key provided by someone you believed was sympathetic to your cause. I think you staged a distraction to enter my home illegally. And I think you’re currently in the act of stealing a historical document worth more than your entire estate.

This document proves my family’s claim. That document is a copy. Rowan’s smile was cold. The original is secured elsewhere, authenticated by Royal Archives. What you’re holding is bait, and you took it beautifully. The blood drained from Matias’s face. You set me up. I protected my interests. There’s a difference. Rowan turned to Pierce.

Summon the Earl of Thornwald and the other Summit patriarchs. They’ll want to witness this. You can’t. I can. I am. And unless you’d like to be dragged through the public courts, I suggest you stay exactly where you are. Matias’s hands trembled with rage. My sister gave you that key. She betrayed me. Your sister, Rowan said quietly, dangerously, tried to protect you, warned me of your plans, gave me time to counter them.

You forced her into an impossible position, and when she chose honor over loyalty to a corrupt scheme, you threatened the people she loves. That makes you not just a thief, Matias, it makes you a coward. Matias lunged. Rowan caught him easily, turning the wild swing into a controlled lock that slammed Matias against the desk.

“Don’t!” Rowan growled in his ear. “Don’t give me another reason to destroy you. He released Matias with a shove, then nodded to the guards. They flanked the younger man, preventing escape.” Within 20 minutes, the study was filled with the patriarchs of the five families, grim-faced men in various states of dress, pulled from their beds by urgent summons.

The Earl of Thornwald arrived last, his face thunderous. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. Rowan stood behind his desk, the picture of controlled authority. “Your son was found in my private study, in the act of stealing a protected document. I have four witnesses, including my head of security, Lord Kestrel.

Explain yourself.” Matias’s mouth opened, closed. He looked to his father desperately. The Earl’s gaze moved to the document on the desk, to the open cabinet, to his son’s guilty expression, understanding and fury dawned. Matias, he said slowly, tell me you didn’t. I was reclaiming what belongs to us by breaking into another patriarch’s home during a summit.

Are you mad? The land is ours. That document proves The document proves nothing, Rowan cut in. He produced a leather folder from his desk drawer, opened it to reveal yellowed pages covered in official seals. This is the original land grant for Greymore Veil, authenticated by Royal Archives 3 weeks ago. It clearly shows that any kestrel claim to these lands ended in 1645 when your ancestor sold his share to my family for £30,000.

Paid in full, witnessed by crown authority. He laid out additional papers, receipts, surveys, legal documents that formed an unbreakable chain of ownership. Your son’s claim, Rowan continued coldly, was based on an incomplete historical survey that he deliberately manipulated by removing key annotations.

He bribed an historian named Gilchrist to authenticate the forgery. And when I learned of this plot, he attempted theft to eliminate evidence of his fraud. The room erupted. Patriarchs demanded explanations, hurled accusations. The Earl looked at his son with something approaching despair. Who told you about this? Matias snarled at Rowan.

Who warned you? Rowan’s gaze was steady. That’s not relevant to your crime. It was Isolda. My sister betrayed me. Betrayed our family for you. Your sister, Rowan said, voice cutting through the chaos, chose truth over dishonesty. Perhaps if you taught her that family loyalty didn’t require corruption, she wouldn’t have needed to choose at all.

The Earl’s face had gone gray. This is catastrophic. The scandal can be contained, Lord Peton said heavily. He was the eldest patriarch, the unofficial leader of the five families, if addressed correctly. All eyes turned to him. Peton looked at Rowan. What outcome do you seek, your grace? Rowan leaned back against his desk, considering this was the moment, the point where he could destroy the kestrels completely or show measured justice.

Isold’s future hung in the balance. I seek assurance, Rowan said carefully, that this family will not threaten mine again. I seek acknowledgement of my rightful claim to Greymore, and I seek appropriate consequences for Lord Matias’s actions. appropriate such as Matias Kestrel will confess his fraud before this assembly. The Earl of Thornwald will forfeit his voting privileges in five families matters for 10 years and the Kestrels will provide written legal acknowledgement of Ashen Cross’s sole rights to Greymore Vale in perpetuity.

The terms were harsh but not ruinous. The Kestrels kept their lands, their titles, their wealth, but their political power would be gutted for a generation. And if we refuse, the earl asked horsely, then I take this evidence to the crown court’s public trial, public humiliation, and very likely prison for your son.

Rowan’s voice hardened. I’m offering you a private resolution. Take it. The patriarchs conferred in hushed whispers. Finally, Peton nodded. The terms are acceptable. Lord Kestrel, you will agree to his grace’s conditions. It wasn’t a question. The earl’s shoulders sagged. I agree, Matias. Matias looked like he might refuse out of pure spite, but his father’s hand clamped down on his shoulder hard enough to bruise.

He agrees, the Earl said flatly. Then it settled. Peton looked at Rowan. “Wellandled, your grace, and discreetly done. The summit need not know the details.” Translation: The five families would protect their own reputation by keeping this quiet. The scandal would be contained, but the consequences would be real and lasting.

Rowan inclined his head. “Thank you, Lord Peton.” As the patriarchs filed out, taking the disgraced kestrels with them, the Earl paused at the door. “My daughter,” he said stiffly, “is older. “Where is she?” “Under my protection.” “She’s my daughter?” She was your daughter. You used her as a porn, forced her into espionage, and threatened her when she showed conscience.

Rowan’s voice was ice. She stays here. You can’t simply I can, and I am. Try to reclaim her, and I’ll release the full story of tonight to every newspaper in the kingdom. Your choice. The Earl’s face mottled with rage, but he left without another word. When the room finally emptied, Rowan sagged against his desk.

the adrenaline draining away. It was done. The kestrels were neutralized. Lana’s letters were secure. He’d taken them from Matias’s coat while subduing him, and Isolder was free. The door opened softly. Isolder stood in the threshold, her face pale, but her eyes clear. “Is it over?” she asked.

Rowan crossed to her in three strides and pulled her into his arms. “It’s over.” She clung to him, shaking with relief. Lana’s letters safe. I have them. I’ll return them to her tomorrow. He pulled back enough to see her face. Your free is older. Truly free. I have nothing. No family, no home, no you have me. The words came out fierce, certain.

If you want me. I know we barely know each other. I know this is fast and complicated and probably mad, but yes, interrupted, smiling through tears. Rowan blinked. Yes. Yes, I want you. Yes, you’re probably mad. And yes, we’re going to figure this out together. He laughed. A surprised, genuine sound that transformed his entire face.

Then he kissed her. It was nothing like the controlled restraint he’d shown before. This kiss was hungry, desperate, full of all the tension they’d been suppressing for weeks. His older melted into it, her hands fisting in his shirt, and for long moments there was nothing but heat and need, and the perfect ripness of being held by someone who saw her completely.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, Rowan pressed his forehead to hers. “The engagement,” he murmured. “The false one I told you to mention to Matias. I’d like to make it real. Isolder’s heart stuttered. Rowan, not now. Not tonight. You need time to breathe, to adjust, to understand what you want outside of crisis.

His hands framed her face. But when you’re ready, if you’re ready, ask me again. Ask you what? To marry you? I want it to be your choice. Not mine, not circumstances, not strategy. Yours? His older eyes burned. That’s the most romantic and most infuriating thing anyone’s ever said to me. I contain multitudes.

She laughed and kissed him again softer this time. I’ll ask you when I’m ready, but Rowan. Yes, I think I’ll be ready soon. His smile was incandescent. The next morning, Lana found his older in the library, curled in a window seat with weak tea and racing thoughts. Her friend sat down beside her without preamble. Something happened last night, Lana said. something big.

The staff are whispering. Your family left before dawn and Rowan looks like he won a war. Is older set down her cup carefully. Lana and you. Lana studied her face. You look like someone who’s been crying and kissing. Possibly both. I don’t. How did you? Your lips are swollen and there’s a mark on your neck that your collar isn’t quite hiding. Lana’s eyes sparkled.

Want to tell me what happened or should I ask my brother? Heat flooded his older cheeks. Please don’t ask Rowan anything. Oh, this is excellent. I knew it. I knew you two were Lana stopped, expressions sobering. Wait, your family left. Why didn’t you? Because I’m not going with them. What? His older took Lana’s hands.

My family tried to hurt your brother. I stopped them. And now, now I’m staying here. If Rowan will have me, if you’ll have me. Lana’s eyes filled with tears. You chose us. I chose truth. And yes, you. Oh, Ren. Lana pulled her into a fierce hug. Of course, we’ll have you. You’re already family.

This just makes it official. They held each other while his older cried, not from sadness, but from relief. From the freedom of finally choosing her own path. When Rowan found them an hour later, they were laughing through tears. Lana regailing his older with embarrassing stories from his childhood.

He stood in the doorway watching them with an expression so tender it made his older’s heart ache. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said dryly. “We were just discussing your fear of geese,” Lana said innocently. “I don’t fear geese. I simply maintain appropriate caution around creatures with teeth and violence in their hearts. They have beaks, not teeth.

The distinction is academic when one is being chased. His older laughed, free and bright, and Rowan’s gaze locked on her face with such intensity she felt it like a touch. Lana, he said quietly. May I borrow Isolda? Borrow, brother, I think she’s yours already. Lana stood, squeezing his older shoulder.

But treat her well or I’ll release your childhood diary to the papers. I don’t have a childhood diary, don’t you? She swept out, leaving them alone. Rowan moved to sit beside his older, close but not touching. How are you? He asked, overwhelmed, relieved, terrified, happy. Is older turned to face him. All of it at once.

That seems reasonable given the circumstances. Rowan, she reached for his hand. What happens now? Now? He laced their fingers together. Now we take things slowly. You stay here as my guest and Lana’s friend. You adjust to your new freedom. And when you’re ready, when you’re certain, we’ll discuss our future properly. And if I’m certain now, his eyes darkened.

Are you? Isold considered. Was she certain? She’d known him weeks, not years. Their relationship had been forged in crisis and subtifuge. By any logical measure, they should wait. But logic had nothing to do with the way her heart raced when he smiled. Nothing to do with the rightness she felt in his arms. Nothing to do with the fact that he’d seen her at her worst, frightened, trapped, breaking, and had chosen to protect her anyway. Yes, she said quietly.

I’m certain. Rowan’s breath caught. Is older. Ask me what? You said you wanted me to ask you, but I think I think I’d like to hear you ask me first. just once understanding lit his eyes. He slid from the window seat to kneel before her, taking both her hands in his. The pose was formal, traditional, and completely unnecessary. It was perfect.

He sold a kestrel, Rowan said, his voice rough with emotion. You are the bravest, most extraordinary person I’ve ever known. You chose truth over safety. You protected my sister when you had every reason not to, and you made me believe in possibilities I’d stopped imagining years ago. His hands tightened on hers. “Will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life proving that you made the right choice when you trusted me?” Tears spilled down his older cheeks.

“Yes, yes, absolutely, yes.” He surged up and kissed her, tender and fierce and full of promise. When they broke apart, both laughing breathlessly, Rowan rested his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he murmured. “I should have said it first, but I love you, too,” his older cuped his face. “And you can say it as many times as you want now. We have time.

We have forever.” And in that moment, surrounded by sunlight and possibility, Isold believed him. Three months later, Isolda stood in Ashen Cross’s private chapel, wearing a gown of silver silk that caught the light like dawn. Lana stood beside her as witness, radiant and teasing and crying simultaneously. “You’re sure,” Lana whispered as the music began.

“There’s still time to run.” “Absolutely certain.” “Good, because if you change your mind now, I’ll have to marry him, and that would be very awkward.” Isolder bit back a laugh as Rowan appeared at the far end of the aisle. He wore formal black, his dark hair neatly combed, and his eyes, those impossibly blue eyes, were locked on her with single-minded intensity.

She walked toward him with her head high and her heart full, leaving behind the girl who’d once believed neutrality was safety. That girl had been afraid of choosing. This woman knew that choosing, really choosing with courage and clarity, was the only way to truly live. When she reached Rowan, he took her hands and smiled.

“Hello,” he said softly. “Hello, you look extraordinary. You’ve mentioned that before. I’ll mention it every day for the rest of our lives.” The ceremony was brief and intimate, just them, Lana, and the words that bound their futures together. When the priest pronounced them married, Rowan kissed her with careful reverence as if she were something precious and breakable.

But his older wasn’t breakable. Not anymore. She was chosen, protected, free. And as they walked back down the aisle together, hand in hand. She caught Lana’s eye and smiled. Her friend mouthed, “I told you so.” Isolda laughed and Rowan squeezed her hand and the future stretched before them like an open road, uncertain, thrilling, theirs to write together.

The evening after the wedding, Rowan found his older on the terrace overlooking Greymore Veil. She stood silhouetted against the sunset, and he took a moment to simply watch her, his wife, his choice, his future. “You’re staring,” his older said without turning. “I’m admiring. There’s a difference. Technically, he moved to stand beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist.

What are you thinking about? How different everything is from 6 months ago. She leaned into him. I was trapped then, convinced I had no choices. And now, now, now I have everything. She turned in his arms, rising on her toes to kiss him. Thank you for what? For seeing me when I was invisible. For protecting me when I was vulnerable.

for letting me choose you instead of making the choice for me. Rowan’s throat tightened. You would have chosen me anyway. Eventually, yes. But you gave me the freedom to arrive there myself. That matters. He kissed her properly then, long and slow and thorough. And when they finally broke apart, both were breathing hard. We should go inside, Rowan murmured against her lips.

Should we? Unless you want to scandalize the staff. I’m the Duchess now. I can scandalize whoever I want. He laughed, that rare, genuine sound that still made her heart skip and pulled her closer. Fair point. They stayed there as the sun set and stars emerged, wrapped in each other, and the certainty that they had time.

All the time in the world, and when they finally went inside to their shared rooms, their shared bed, their shared future, it was together, always together. Epilogue. 18 months after the wedding, Ashen Cross hosted the Five Family Summit again. This time there was no masquerade, no intrigue, no secret plots threatening the foundation of the estate. Instead, there was joy.

Is solder moved through the gathering with practiced grace, now fully comfortable in her role as duchess. She’d spent the past year and a half learning estate management from Rowan, befriending the other family matriarchs, and quietly reforming some of the more antiquated summit traditions. The patriarchs had been skeptical at first, until they’d seen how effectively she mediated disputes and streamlined negotiations.

Now they sought her council as often as they sought Rowans. You’re smirking, Lana said, appearing at his oldest elbow with champagne. What are you plotting? Nothing. Just remembering the last time we hosted when you snuck in wearing mother’s old gown and danced with my brother. Exactly that, Lana grinned. Worked out rather well, didn’t it? Better than I could have imagined.

They watched the ballroom together, couples dancing, patriarchs negotiating, the careful choreography of power and politics. The Earl of Thornwald was absent. He died 6 months ago, leaving Matias to inherit a diminished title and no real authority. His older had felt nothing when she’d heard the news. Not grief, not satisfaction, just a distant sort of finality.

Some chapters closed cleanly, others just ended. Isold, Rowan’s voice carried across the room. He was beckoning her over to where he stood with several other dukes. She excused herself from Lana and crossed to him, feeling the familiar warmth as he slipped an arm around her waist without breaking conversation. “Gentlemen,” Rowan said, “my wife has been coordinating trade agreements between our territories.

Perhaps she can address your concerns better than I can.” It was a test for her or for them. Isolder wasn’t sure, but she launched into her explanation with confidence, outlining the new routes and tariff structures she’d negotiated. The Dukes listened, asked questions, and eventually nodded their approval. When they dispersed, Rowan pulled her aside into an al cove.

“You were brilliant,” he murmured. “You’re biased.” “Absolutely, but also correct,” he kissed her temple. “I love you. I love you, too.” They’d said those words a thousand times in the past 18 months, but they never grew stale. every time felt like a gift, a reminder that they’d chosen this, built this, fought for this. Dance with me? Rowan asked.

Like old times. Exactly like old times. Except this time I know who you are, and you can’t disappear before I unmask you. His older laughed and took his hand. They moved onto the floor together, falling into the familiar rhythm of the walts. Around them, other couples swirled, but his older only had eyes for her husband.

his steady gaze, his rare smile, the certainty in every movement that said she belonged exactly here. “What are you thinking?” Rowan asked quietly. “That I was right to warn you that night.” “Oh, because it led to this, to us, to everything I didn’t know I needed,” his arms tightened around her. “You saved me in more ways than you realize.

” As you saved me, they danced in comfortable silence. two people who’d found each other through chaos and chosen each other through peace. And when the music ended, Rowan didn’t release her immediately. Instead, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Thank you for choosing me,” is older. “Every day you choose me, and every day I choose you right back.

” She pulled back enough to see his face to see the love and gratitude and wonder written there as clearly as any vow. “Always,” she promised. I choose you always. And she meant it because sometimes the greatest act of courage wasn’t fighting or fleeing. It was standing still, reaching out and choosing love despite every reason not to. Isolda had chosen.

And she’d do it again a thousand times over for the rest of her extraordinary life. The end. Thank you for staying until the very end of this story. Isold and Rowan’s journey reminds us that real courage isn’t fearlessness. It’s choosing truth and love even when it costs us everything. I hope their story touched your heart the way it touched mine.

If their romance moved you, I’d be so grateful if you’d hit that like button and share your thoughts in the comments. Which moment resonated most with you? Was it the masquerade, the riding confession, the final choice? And don’t forget to subscribe and ring that bell. There are more stories like this waiting. More characters who choose bravely. More love worth fighting for.

Your next story is ready whenever you are. Thank you for being here. You’re the reason these stories exist.