[Alvar's POV — Regulffsson Mansion—A Week Before]
The familiar crunch of gravel echoed under my boots as I dismounted, handing the reins to a waiting stablehand.
The butler and servants lined up in practiced precision, bowing deeply.
"Welcome back, Grand Duke Alvar."
I gave a curt nod, my expression unreadable as ever.
But in the center of them all, standing with her hands folded neatly, staring at me without even blinking, was Lady Selene Regulffsson—my mother.
Cold. Imposing. A woman who could cut a man down with a glance. I stepped forward, my voice even and cool. "How are you, Mother?"
Her eyes narrowed, sweeping over me as if inspecting a soldier for flaws.
And then—
FWIP! FWIP!
Her head darted side to side, her gaze raking the air around me. My brow twitched. "…What are you doing?"
Her voice came like ice breaking across a lake. "Looking."
"...For what, exactly?"
"A bride."
Silence.
