The Guillotine and the Morning Sun

...The sound of a guillotine falling is not a sharp swoosh, as the storybooks claim. It is a heavy, dull thud....

...That was the last thing Seraphina heard....

...Before the darkness took her, she saw him. Duke Valerius Thorne. The Iron Duke. He stood on the balcony overlooking the execution square, his black military coat stark against the falling snow. His raven hair was slicked back, and his eyes—those terrifying, blood-red eyes—watched her with an expression she knew well....

...Indifference....

..."Witch!" the crowd screamed. "Heretic!"...

...Seraphina didn't cry. She was too tired. Three years of a loveless marriage. Three years of sleeping in a cold, separate wing, praying to a Goddess who never answered, trying to be the perfect, pious wife for a man who never looked at her. And this was her reward: framed by the High Priest, abandoned by her husband, and executed for a crime she didn't commit....

...If I had known it would end like this, she thought, the cold metal of the brace biting into her neck, I wouldn't have spent my life kneeling in prayer. I would have spent it fighting. I would have dragged you down to hell with me, Valerius....

...The blade dropped....

..."My Lady! My Lady, wake up!"...

...Seraphina gasped, her body jerking upright. Her hands flew to her throat, clawing at skin she expected to be severed. But there was no blood. There was no cold iron....

...There was only the soft, frantic touch of linen sheets and the smell of lavender....

..."My Lady, you’re sweating!"...

...Seraphina blinked, her vision blurring. Standing over her was calm, young face....

..."Martha?" Seraphina rasped, her voice trembling. "But... you died of the plague last winter."...

...The maid looked confused. "The plague? My Lady, surely you’re still dreaming. It’s a beautiful spring morning. And you must hurry! The Duke is downstairs."...

...Seraphina froze. The room came into focus. The peeling wallpaper of her father’s estate. The sunlight streaming through the window—not the grey winter sky of her execution, but the golden light of spring. She scrambled out of bed and ran to the vanity mirror....

...Staring back at her was a girl of nineteen. Her golden hair was messy from sleep, falling in waves over her shoulders. Her blue eyes were wide, unclouded by the dark circles of grief she had worn for years....

..."What is the date?" Seraphina whispered....

..."It is the 10th of May, My Lady. The year 742."...

...The room spun. 742. Three years ago....

...This was the day. The day Valerius came to the Vance estate. In her past life, he had come to annul their engagement, citing that his bloodline was cursed and he didn't wish to burden her. In her past life, she had wept, agreed to the annulment out of a sense of inferiority, and then, months later, was forced into the marriage anyway by the Emperor—but by then, the damage was done. They had started their marriage as strangers who resented one another....

..."He is here to break the engagement," Seraphina murmured....

..."Yes, My Lady," Martha fretted, picking up a modest, high-collared grey dress. "The Duke is in the parlor. He looks... terrifying. Shall I help you with this dress? It is the most modest one you own."...

...Seraphina looked at the grey dress. It was the uniform of a saintess. The clothing of a woman who obeyed, who prayed, and who died....

..."No," Seraphina said, her voice hardening....

..."My Lady?"...

...Seraphina turned back to the mirror. She touched her neck again. The phantom pain was gone, replaced by a burning, cold anger. The Goddess had given her a second chance. She wasn't going to waste it being a saint....

...If being pious got her killed, then perhaps being a sinner would keep her alive....

..."Burn that dress, Martha," Seraphina commanded. "Bring me the red silk one. The one with the low neckline that my aunt sent from the capital."...

..."B-But My Lady! That is scandalous! The Duke is a holy man of the Church! He hates indecency!"...

..."Good," Seraphina said, a dangerous smile curving her lips. "Let’s see how much he hates it."...

...The parlor of the Vance estate was dusty, but Duke Valerius Thorne filled the room with an suffocating presence....

...He stood by the fireplace, stiff as a statue. He was a giant of a man, broad-shouldered and imposing. His hair was as black as ink, falling slightly over his forehead. When the door opened, he turned, and his crimson eyes—the color of fresh blood—narrowed....

...He expected a weeping girl. He expected the timid daughter of Count Vance who would quietly accept the rejection papers he held in his gloved hand....

...What walked through the door was not a girl. It was a storm....

...Seraphina stepped in. The red dress clung to her waist and flowed like liquid fire around her legs. The neckline exposed the elegant slope of her shoulders and the swell of her chest—scandalous for an unmarried noblewoman. Her golden hair was not pinned back in a bun but left loose, cascading down her back like a waterfall of light....

...Valerius stopped breathing. His grip on the papers tightened, crumbling the edge....

..."Lady Seraphina," he said, his voice deep and rough, like stones grinding together. "You are..." He struggled for the word. "Improperly dressed."...

..."And you are early, Your Grace," Seraphina replied. She didn't curtsy. instead, she walked straight toward him....

...Valerius stepped back instinctively. He was the Commander of the Holy Paladins, a man who slaughtered demon beasts without flinching, yet the approach of this small woman made him retreat....

..."I have come to discuss the termination of our engagement," Valerius said quickly, holding out the papers like a shield. "My life is one of war and blood. It is not fit for a woman of... delicate constitution."...

...In the last life, Seraphina had taken those papers with trembling hands....

...This time, she reached out and took the papers. She glanced at them, her blue eyes meeting his red ones. Then, slowly, deliberately, she tore the document in half....

...Valerius’s eyes widened. "What are you doing?"...

..."Refusing," she said. She took another step. She was close enough now to smell him—leather, steel, and the faint scent of winter air. "I do not accept your rejection, Valerius."...

..."You must," he grit out, looking away from her exposed collarbone. A flush was creeping up his neck, visible against his pale skin. "I am trying to save you. I am a monster. The Church calls me the Iron Dog. I have no heart to give you."...

..."You have a body," Seraphina whispered....

...The silence in the room was deafening. Valerius’s head snapped back to look at her, shock written all over his stoic face. "Excuse me?"...

...Seraphina closed the distance. She placed a hand on his chest, right over his heart. It was beating fast. frantically fast....

...So, she thought. The Iron Duke is not made of iron after all....

..."We need each other, Valerius," she said, lowering her voice to a sultry purr. "My family needs your protection. You need a wife to stop the Emperor from nagging you. Let us make a contract."...

..."A contract?" he choked out. He seemed unable to move his hand away from hers....

..."Marriage," she said. "But not a cold one. I don't want to be a decoration in your house, Valerius. If I am to be your Duchess..."...

...She rose on her tiptoes, bringing her face inches from his. She saw his red eyes dilate, the hunger he tried so hard to hide swirling in their depths....

..."...I intend to share your bed."...

...Valerius turned a shade of red that matched his eyes. For the first time in his life, the Duke was utterly defeated....

..."You," he whispered, sounding terrified and mesmerized, "are dangerous."...

...Seraphina smiled, sharp and beautiful. "You have no idea."...

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