All Chapters of THE DUKE'S FORBIDDEN PROPHECY: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Quiet for four years. This is my life now. My days are based on my silence. A choice made a long time ago. Silence is what protects me. Or so I believed. Tonight, it all changes. The ball is in full swing. The music is too loud. The lights are too bright. Then, he arrives. He is standing in the opposite corner of the room. It cannot be. My breathing ceases. He turns his head and looks directly at me.Unlike the quiet in a book room, the quiet around flowers at dawn. More like a shout silenced in a swoon, what mere knowledge might label me: crazy, harmful. Such a weight never lessened, though. It was a burden to which I gradually adjusted myself. It settled in closer in time, another figure in the rear view, blacker than the last.Midnight colored the ballroom gold as silk unravelled beneath chandeliers like dust in the sun. Not much from where I was standing, through open glass doors, trees exhaled cold into heavily scented chambers. Grey, the color of silver fabric draped onto my for

Four mornings inched along since the engagement party. Quiet had fallen like dust on unread books. His voice followed me everywhere-what was his sorrow, now was my stain, to be carried by no cleaning hand. Father jumped when a carriage drew up before the door. Mother smiled less; her lips shivered as if to keep cold air out. Silence thickened. It wasn't peaceful silence but watching, held-halfway up in one's chest.And in one silent instant, the whole thing broke open. There, at the window, the light coming in soft, sat my mother, her hands turning small pearl earrings over and over. No gems from the old miniatures. Nothing so large as that. The actual things had been gone and gone. These alone - tiny, shining, free of any implication. This choice hovered in the room: who would have them first.There I stayed, stuck at the entrance, just looking. Years gone quiet, like a shadow slipping through rooms, knowing deep down how it would stop - now it flared alive. Not terror running hot un

That night, just after twelve, he had someone come get me.A note arrived by way of a quiet boy in servant’s clothes, someone unfamiliar. His face showed nothing. Without a word, he passed me a thick dark cloak. A tilt of his head told me where to go. Most inside were long since resting. Each step I took made the old wood shriek underfoot. There would be no grand exit. Instead, we moved through a narrow back passage meant for helpers below stairs. Cold air met us beyond, within the high-walled plot where herbs grow.That icy evening hit hard, filled with the bite of frozen ground and sleeping soil. Wrapped myself tighter in the heavy cloth. Following behind, the servant guided my steps through rows of leafless orchard trees. Off near the edge, an iron gate waited, half open, tangled with clinging vines. Inside, the broken greenhouse sat silent.Empty echoes lived there. Stretching out, the structure sat low, made of glass and chipped white metal, time wearing it down. Dirt layered thi

Frost traced the edges of the furniture in my new chambers. Not warmth, just shine - like glass under moonlight. East wing spaces stretched wide, yet held nothing soft. Walls stood still, hearing more than they let on. Where my family house trembled with unspoken words, this place swallowed them whole. No echo ever left its throat.Each morning arrived the same, somehow off-kilter. A metallic click came first - the key twisting in the outer lock - though they claimed it wasn’t to trap me. Liza slipped through later, carrying toast and tea on porcelain that never clinked. Meals tasted like air, even when hot. Outside meant pacing the inner yard: stones laid flat, hedges clipped too neat, watched by someone motionless near the exit. Nothing beyond that gate mattered anymore. Space folded inward until elegance felt hollow.Every day began the same way. Mrs. Greyson walked in holding her list like it meant something absolute. Rest time came first, she said, though rest never showed up. Th

A week passed since the silver mine came to light. The Duke then told me about an invitation - to a salon. This wasn’t any grand ball or stiff ceremony. It would happen at Lady Ellington’s residence, where thinkers, painters, and open-minded aristocrats often met. He said little, only that it marked a gentler start to our connection. There, people would notice us side by side in a space filled with talk and shared curiosity - less like duty, more like choice.The emerald gown is what you’ll put on, he stated, gaze fixed once more on the paper in his hands. With Alex at your side, you’re expected to go. He would arrive later. Not a request of any kind. More like being sent where needed.A soft hush lived in the green dress, speaking without sound. Elegance sat quietly in its folds, no shouting needed. The fabric, a clever shade of green silk, brought warmth to my skin, lifted the color in my pale eyes. Money and good sense curled into its presence, more than any name ever could. My hai