The rays of the early morning sun seeped in through the window, landing on Irene's face. She tossed and turned in bed, the voices of the maids who were going up and down the stairs didn't help matters.
Finally, she sat up in bed, holding her aching head in-between her palms. What happened? She looked around. Wasn't she on her way to a function with Yin?
"I'm glad to see you're awake." His deep voice startled her. He'd been sitting by the window, arms crossed but she didn't notice.
"For a man like you," she muttered inder her breath. "I was expecting worse."
Yin rose to his feet, walking toward her. He was no longer dressed in his cloak. He had on the finest suit she'd ever seen, off course in black with a little bit of red.
"So you don't remember what happened last night?"
Irene furrowed her brows in confusion. "I don't," she replied. The last thing she did recall was crouching low before an injured man. That was all, whatever followed after wasn't stored in her head.
"Did I do something bad?" Yin looked at her, trying to see if she was pretending to be ignorant. When he was sure, he said. "Go and get ready for school, I may change my mind soon." With that, he walked out.
Irene scrambled out of bed, hurrying off to the bathroom. She cleaned her teeth, took her bath in less than ten minutes. Dressing up was a bit stressful, she no longer had her comfortable clothes.
The school gates were a relief. Irene stepped through them as though she had crossed a border between worlds. The mean looking guards trailed behind like she was some kind of prisoner.
Did Yin have to send these deadly looking men? She lowered her eyes to the ground. The other students already whispered, eyes darting toward her
So they've heard, she thought bitterly. Of course they have. News or shall she say gossip travelled faster than a carriage in valcoria.
Irene felt relieved that she no longer had to pretend. She could finally speak what was on her mind unlike when she was at the mansion.
Inside these walls—Yin could not reach her thoughts. She had been careful at the mansion, always smiling, always bowing her head, terrified he would sense her resentment.
But here? She could finally be Irene again. The mischievous, curious and talkative Irene.
"Irene!" Fiona ran towards her. The guards stepped in front of her, blocking Fiona out of her view.
"She's a friend." She squeezed herself through, running into Fiona's open arms. "Boy am I glad to see you."
Fiona's eyes moved from the mean looking guards to her friend that was dressed up like a silly princess.
"I—" she placed a finger on Fiona's lips. "We're going to the ladies room." She tugged Fiona by the wrist the moment the bell rang, dragging her into the ladies' room. Fiona, bright-eyed and loyal since childhood, looked more startled than scandalized.
"Irene, what on earth—"
"Shh," Irene cut her off, checking the stalls. Empty. Finally, she leaned against the tiled wall, exhaling like she had been holding her breath for days.
Fiona folded her arms. "I was at home when the gossip flew through the window that my friend is married to a freaking vampire!" She exclaimed. "Tell me everything. Now."
The words tumbled out of Irene in a rush. She spoke of the way she had to smile and act obedient, never knowing if Yin's cold, unreadable eyes could pierce through her skull.
"I couldn't say a word," Irene finished, voice trembling despite herself. "Not a complaint, not a sigh. I thought that if he can read my mind—if he knows what I truly think of him—"
Fiona stepped closer, her brow furrowing. "So you kept pretending."
"Yes. But Fiona…" Irene's voice sharpened now, her usual fire rekindling. "I can't live like that. I can't stay married to him. My dreams—everything I've worked for—they're more precious than this cage of a marriage."
Fiona bit her lip, then whispered, "Then run away. Leave the mansion, disappear."
Irene shook her head violently. "No. If I vanish, he'll go after my father. Yin doesn't make idle threats. I can see it in his eyes. One wrong move and Father will pay the price."
Irene pressed her hands against the cool tile, thinking furiously. There was no way she'd just accept her fate and stay married to Yin forever. Then, slowly, a smirk curved her lips.
"Then I'll frustrate him if I can't run away."
Fiona blinked. "Frustrate him?"
"Yes." Irene straightened, fire blazing in her eyes. "If I can't run, then I'll fight in the only way I can. I'll become such a nuisance, so sharp-tongued, so impossible that he'll be forced to let me go."
Fiona stared, half shocked, half delighted. "That's… actually brilliant. Dangerous, but brilliant." She agreed. "Are you sure it's going to work?"
"Dangerous is better than silent," Irene said. "I refuse to be silent anymore." Once they had gone over the rest of the plan, they left.
That evening, when the carriage rolled back into the mansion's courtyard, the guards exchanged wary glances. The Irene who stepped out looked different—not in dress, not in posture, but in the set of her jaw, the spark in her gaze.
Inside, Yin waited for her. He stood near the window, back straight, his foreign garments catching the last light of day. He looked out of place in the grand Victorian halls.
His eyes flicked to her as she entered, scanning her like a hawk.
"You return later than expected," he said evenly. His voice was smooth, but there was always a weight to it, like steel hidden beneath silk.
Irene shrugged. "Forgive me, husband. I was too busy learning how to breathe without guards stomping after me." she dropped her books noisily on the floor.
The corner of Yin's jaw tightened. He said nothing, only folded his arms.
She crossed the room with deliberate grace, lifting her skirts so they didn't brush the polished floor. "Tell me, does your world also treat women like pretty dolls to be shelved, or is that just your charming habit?"
Yin's hand hovered near the hilt of his sword, an instinct he seemed to struggle against. His eyes darkened, but he kept his composure.
"You test me," he said at last.
"Good." She tilted her head, smiling sweetly. "I'd hate to bore you because you're going to be stuck with me for a long time."
Yin turned fully toward her now, and for the first time since their wedding, there was a crack in his calm. "In my world," he said slowly, "words like yours would be met with swords. Men do not tolerate disrespect."
"And yet here you are," Irene replied, "listening to me. Fascinating. Perhaps this Victorian air has softened you already."
He stepped closer, shadows stretching across the room. For a moment, Irene thought he might actually draw his sword. But he stopped a foot away, his expression unreadable.
"You think your sarcasm shields you but you're playing a dangerous game, Irene."
She met his gaze without flinching. "Dangerous games are the only ones worth playing."
Yin's hand finally fell away from the hilt of his blade. He exhaled, low and controlled.
"You've changed," he observed. Before leaving the house she was as timid as a mouse, now she's talking back at him. That was nice.
Irene smiled like a fox. "Yes. Consider this the real me. The mansion version was only a temporary performance."
He studied her, silent. Somewhere deep in his eyes, curiosity flickered—a grudging recognition that the meek bride he had acquired was gone, replaced by someone far less manageable.
At last, he turned away, returning to the window. "Very well. Let us see how long your defiance lasts."
"Long enough," she said lightly, though her heart pounded in her chest. "Perhaps longer than your patience."
For the first time since their marriage, she walked past him without lowering her head, skirts swishing boldly. Yin did not stop her nor did he say a word.
But his knuckles were white where they clenched behind his back, and in the silence of the mansion, one thing was certain: Irene had struck her first blow and this was only the beginning.