THE DUKE'S FORBIDDEN PROPHECY
A step back and to the side, I stay quiet, fingers interlaced, eyes on what unfolds.
“I am Noah Wingknight,” he says, his voice carrying easily in the crisp air. “This is my wife, Paige. By the King’s decree, we are your Duke and Duchess. We’re here to stay.”
Silence. Then a broad-shouldered man with a thick, red beard steps forward. “We’ve had dukes before, Wingknight. They stay a season, take what they can, and leave us to the winter. What makes you different?”
Noah meets the man’s gaze without flinching. “I am not here by choice, but by decree. This is not a stepping stone for me. It is my home. And I do not take from my home. I protect it.”
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