Plague Of Shadows

The moment Lennox hit the floor, the grand ballroom fell into a stunned silence. The nobles who had once whispered behind fans and raised their glasses in quiet mockery now stood frozen, their expressions a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief.

Annalise stood unwavering, her delicate frame appearing deceptively fragile against the weight of the moment. But Ethan saw it—the fire in her sapphire eyes, the quiet rage simmering beneath her composed exterior. She had stood for him when no one else ever had.

Ethan's grip on her hand tightened. His voice, when he spoke, was steel wrapped in ice.

"Any insult to my wife is a direct insult to the Vornhart Duchy."

The nobles stiffened.

"Any harm to my wife… means war with the Vornhart Duchy. Do with that as you will."

His words sent a chill through the room, the weight of his title crashing down on those who dared to mock him. No one had expected Ethan Vornhart, the disfigured, shunned duke, to make such a declaration.

Without another glance at the stunned crowd, Ethan turned and led Annalise away, his grip firm but not forceful. The grand double doors of the ballroom shut behind them, cutting them off from the murmurs left in their wake.

The ride back to the Vornhart estate was heavy with silence.

The carriage, a masterful blend of medieval craftsmanship and futuristic ingenuity, rolled smoothly through the dimly lit streets. The lanterns inside flickered, casting long shadows across Ethan's sharp features, his black hair slightly disheveled from the night's events.

He sat stiffly beside Annalise, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions.

Anger. Confusion.

A strange, foreign warmth that unsettled him.

He hadn't expected his reaction tonight—the way his blood had boiled at the sight of Lennox raising a hand against Annalise, the violent urge to do more than simply throw the man to the ground.

Even now, the thought of that bastard touching her sent an uncharacteristic rage surging through him.

But more than that, he hadn't expected her.

Ethan had spent years enduring the weight of society's scorn. It had become background noise, something he had learned to ignore. But tonight, Annalise had shattered that. She had spoken for him, fought for him, as if his suffering had never been acceptable to begin with.

He turned his head slightly, his gray eyes studying her profile.

She sat with her hands neatly folded in her lap, but he could tell she was tense. Was she regretting her actions? Afraid of what she had done?

Afraid of him?

That thought made something in his chest tighten.

Annalise, on the other hand, was lost in her own turmoil.

Had she gone too far? She had acted on instinct, her fury at the way they treated Ethan overshadowing all else. But now, away from the heat of the moment, doubts crept in. Would Ethan be angry? Would he see her actions as overstepping her bounds?

Would he push her away even more now?

The carriage rolled to a stop before the looming Vornhart estate.

The towering manor was shrouded in shadows, its gothic spires piercing the night sky. The iron gates groaned open as the carriage passed through, sealing them away from the outside world.

The moment the door opened, Ethan stepped out, as if unable to remain still any longer.

He exhaled sharply, raking a hand through his black hair. Then, without turning back, he spoke.

"Go inside and rest. I'll be back."

His voice was controlled, but Annalise could hear the tightness beneath it.

She wanted to ask where he was going, but before she could, he was gone, disappearing into the night.

Annalise lay awake in bed, staring at the canopy above her.

Sleep refused to come.

She had bathed, changed into her nightgown, and waited. Hours passed, the only sound in the room the distant ticking of the clock.

The longer she waited, the more anxious she became.

Then, finally, the door creaked open.

She sat up immediately, her heart stuttering as Ethan stepped inside.

His black hair was slightly disheveled, his shirt undone at the collar. He looked like a man who had spent hours fighting an invisible battle. His gray eyes—usually so unreadable—were stormy, flickering with something she couldn't quite place.

For a long moment, he simply stared at her.

Then, in a low voice, he asked, "Why?"

Annalise blinked. "Why what?"

"Why did you do that?" His voice was quiet, but there was something raw underneath. "Why did you stand up for me?"

She tilted her head. "Because I wanted to."

Ethan's brows furrowed. He took a step forward, his fists clenched. "That's not an answer."

She met his gaze, unwavering. "Because you are my husband."

His body tensed.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Annalise hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "You might not see it that way, but we are married, Ethan. I don't expect you to trust me yet. But I meant what I said—I won't stand by while people treat you like you're less than them."

Ethan's breath hitched.

She wasn't saying she loved him.

She wasn't saying she pitied him.

She was saying she was on his side.

And for a man who had spent his entire life alone, that felt far more dangerous than love ever could.

Annalise took a tentative step forward.

Ethan didn't move.

Another step.

Still, he remained frozen.

Then, before he could think, before he could stop himself, he closed the distance between them.

His hand found her waist, the other coming up to cup her face. He wasn't sure why he did it. Maybe it was desperation. Maybe it was the way she looked at him like he was worth something.

Or maybe it was because, for the first time in his life, he wasn't afraid of letting someone in.

Annalise inhaled sharply, her breath hitching as he pulled her closer.

And then he kissed her.

It wasn't gentle.

It was raw, hungry, like something inside him had finally broken loose. His lips moved against hers with a desperate fervor, his grip tightening as if afraid she might disappear.

Annalise melted into him, her hands grasping the front of his shirt. He could feel her warmth, her heartbeat against his chest.

He didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve her.

But for tonight, he let himself have it.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless.

Annalise's blue eyes searched his face. "Ethan…"

He swallowed hard, his thumb brushing over her swollen lips.

"You confuse me," he admitted hoarsely.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Good."

Ethan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

And for the first time in a long, long time—he didn't feel alone.