Elara's POV
I didn't move.
"Did you hear me?" The duke's voice turned sharp. "Get to your room. Now!"
"No." The word came out steadier than I felt. "I'm not hiding while people try to kill me. I want answers first."
His eyes narrowed behind the mask. "You want answers? Fine. The Emperor sent assassins because you're still alive. Dead brides don't threaten his control over me. Living ones do." He grabbed my wrist. "Satisfied? Now move!"
Before I could respond, glass shattered. The window exploded inward. Three men in dark clothes dropped into the room, blades already drawn.
I screamed.
The duke shoved me behind him and drew his sword in one fluid motion. Steel clashed against steel. He moved like water—fast, precise, deadly. Within seconds, two assassins lay on the floor, not moving.
The third lunged at me.
I scrambled backward, tripping over a chair. The assassin's blade came down—
The duke was there, blocking the strike. He drove his sword through the man's chest without hesitation.
The assassin fell.
Silence.
The duke stood over the bodies, breathing hard. Then he made a sound—a gasp of pain. His free hand clutched his chest.
"What's wrong?" I started toward him.
"Don't!" He held up a hand to stop me. "Don't come closer."
But I saw it now. Blood seeped through his shirt, spreading across his chest. Not from a wound. From something underneath.
"You're hurt—"
"I'm cursed." He dropped his sword and sank into a chair. His hands shook as he pulled at his collar. "Every death I cause feeds it. Every kill makes it stronger."
Through the gap in his shirt, I saw black marks spreading across his skin like poison ivy. They pulsed with each heartbeat, and where they touched, his skin looked burned.
"That's the curse?" I whispered. "Killing people hurts you?"
"Killing anyone I touch hurts me." His voice was rough with pain. "The curse binds me. Every life I take, every person I harm—it burns. Like fire in my veins."
I stared at the black marks. At this man who'd just saved my life even though it hurt him.
"But you touched me," I said slowly. "And it didn't hurt. You said so yourself."
His ice-blue eyes met mine. "Exactly. For ten years, I haven't been able to touch anyone without agony. Then you show up, claiming to be from another world, another time, and suddenly..." He pulled off his other glove and held out both bare hands. "Touch me. Prove I'm not imagining this."
My heart pounded. Every instinct said this was dangerous. But I'd already survived an assassination attempt. What was one more risk?
I placed my hands in his.
The moment our skin connected, warmth flooded through me. Not burning. Not painful. Just... warm. Like coming home after being in the cold too long.
The duke's breath caught. "Impossible," he whispered. He stared at our joined hands like they held the answer to a question he'd been asking for years. "Who are you really?"
"I told you. Elara Chen. From Los Angeles. 2024."
"Prove it." His grip tightened. Not painful, just firm. "Tell me something from your world that couldn't exist here. Something specific."
I took a breath and started talking.
"Electricity—captured lightning that flows through copper wires to power lights that don't need fire. Cars that move without horses, powered by engines that burn gasoline. Airplanes that let people fly across oceans in hours instead of months." The words tumbled out faster. "Phones that let you talk to someone on the other side of the world instantly. Medicine that can cure infections that would kill you here. Computers—machines that can store more information than every library in your empire combined."
"Stop." His voice was quiet. "If such things exist, why would you leave?"
"I didn't leave. I was stolen." The anger came back, hot and fierce. "My father—Baron Aldric—he pulled me here with that coin. Ripped me out of my life because he needed a disposable bride for you. Someone nobody would miss."
The duke was silent for a long moment. Then: "Show me your hand. The one that touched the coin."
I held out my right palm. In the center was a mark I hadn't noticed before—a silver circle with strange symbols, exactly like the ones on the coin.
"A summoning mark," the duke said. He traced it gently with one finger, and I shivered at his touch. "Dark magic. Forbidden across the entire empire. Baron Aldric committed a crime that carries a death sentence."
"Good. I hope they execute him."
His eyes snapped to mine. "You mean that."
"He sold me to a man he thinks is a murderer. He slapped me. Called me disposable." My voice shook. "So yes, I mean it."
"I'm not a murderer." The words were quiet but intense. "The seven brides who supposedly died? I faked their deaths. Smuggled them to safety in other kingdoms with new identities and enough gold to start over."
I jerked back. "What?"
"The Emperor sends me brides as political hostages. Women from families he wants to control or silence. If they stay with me, they become targets. If I return them, their families die. So I stage elaborate deaths and set them free."
My mind raced. "Then all those stories—"
"Lies I encourage. The worse my reputation, the more people fear me. Fear keeps them away. Keeps them from discovering the truth."
"What truth?"
He stood and walked to the broken window, his back to me. "That I'm not the Duke of Shadowmere by choice. That this mask isn't vanity. That every day I live is a punishment designed by someone who wants me to suffer."
"Who?"
"Someone who should have killed me but decided a living death was better revenge." He turned back to face me. "You said you were brought here with dark magic. So was I. Trapped here. Cursed. Forced to play a role in a game I never asked to join."
Something in his voice made my chest ache. He sounded like I felt—lost, angry, betrayed by people who should have protected him.
"The curse," I said slowly. "It hurts when you touch people. But not me. Why?"
"I don't know. But I intend to find out." He moved closer. "You weren't brought here by accident. Magic doesn't work randomly. There's a reason Baron Aldric could pull you specifically across time and space. A reason you can touch me without pain. A reason the Emperor wants you dead before we even reach Shadowmere."
"What reason?"
"That's what we need to discover. Together." He held out his hand. "I'll make you a deal. I'll keep you alive and teach you to survive this world. In return, you share your knowledge from the future. Help me understand what you are and why you're here."
I stared at his outstretched hand. This man—this stranger I'd married—was offering me something no one else in this world had: a partnership. Not ownership. Not protection born from duty. A real alliance.
"If I help you," I said carefully, "you have to promise me something."
"What?"
"When we figure out who's behind this—who cursed you, who helped my father, who sent those assassins—we make them pay. All of them."
A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "You want revenge."
"I want justice." I put my hand in his. "There's a difference."
His fingers closed around mine, warm and steady. "Deal."
The moment we shook on it, the mark on my palm flared with heat. I gasped. The duke's curse mark pulsed in response—but instead of spreading, it shrank slightly.
We both froze, staring at our joined hands.
"Did that just—" I started.
The door burst open again. A man in armor stormed in—tall, dark-haired, with a scar across his jaw. His eyes widened when he saw the bodies, then narrowed when he saw me holding the duke's hand.
"My lord, are you—" He stopped. "You're touching her."
"I know," the duke said calmly.
"But the curse—"
"Doesn't affect her." The duke's grip on my hand tightened slightly. "Captain Roan, meet my wife. Lady Elara, this is Captain Roan Ashford, my commander and oldest friend."
Roan stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "That's impossible."
"Apparently not." The duke pulled me closer. "Clear these bodies. Post guards at every entrance. And Roan?" His voice turned cold. "Find out how assassins got past your men."
Roan's face flushed. "Yes, my lord." He glanced at me once more, then left, barking orders.
When we were alone again, I asked the question burning in my mind. "If your touch usually hurts people, and mine doesn't... what does that mean?"
The duke stared at our still-joined hands. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"It means you might be the only person in 800 years who can break my curse." He looked up, his ice-blue eyes intense. "Or the only person who can make it worse."
"Which do you think I am?"
He studied my face for a long moment. Then: "I think you're dangerous. But not in the way everyone fears." His thumb traced the summoning mark on my palm. "I think whoever brought you here made a terrible mistake."
"Why?"
"Because they gave me hope." His voice was rough. "And hope is the most dangerous weapon of all."
Before I could respond, a horn sounded outside—long and low. The duke's entire body tensed.
"What is that?" I asked.
"The signal." He released my hand and grabbed his sword. "We need to leave. Now."
"Why? What's wrong?"
He moved to the window and looked out. I followed.
In the distance, torches moved through the darkness. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.
"The Emperor's riders," the duke said flatly. "The assassins were just a test. The real attack is coming."
My blood turned to ice. "How many?"
"Enough to ensure I can't protect you." He turned to me, his mask hiding his expression but not the urgency in his voice. "We run. We ride through the night to Shadowmere. It's our only chance."
"And if they catch us?"
His hand found mine again. Despite everything, his touch was still warm. Still steady.
"Then you'll discover whether I'm truly the monster everyone believes I am."