fiance chapter 18

Her voice barely above a whisper, almost a plea, she managed, “Then you should dance with me, Cal.” She’d intended a playful retort, the kind common in social circles, but the overwhelming embarrassment made her voice tremble.

He finished playing a short phrase and straightened up. He lightly grasped her shoulders, then released them. “Call me Cal, Sophie. You’ve been doing so well.” With that, he kissed the top of her head and left, as if he’d completed some task.

Looking back, it was all a performance. Sophia realized it now. His smooth words, the calculated touches meant to unsettle her – it was all an act, just as he discussed city affairs with her mother, politics with her father, and history with Felix. He had simply chosen the right subject matter for her.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, Sophia knew he didn’t love her. But such things were best left unspoken.

“So, what do you think of the Duke?” Solid asked when they were finally alone. Sophia hesitated. “I don’t know” was on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to confess her confusion, to admit, “I can’t understand how this engagement even happened.” But five months had passed since she’d last seen Solid, and the words wouldn’t come.

“He’s been very kind,” she said awkwardly. “He gets along well with my family, and they all adore him.” Solid mistook her hesitation for shyness and smiled gently.

“Well, of course. He practically lived at your manor while you were asleep, caring for you. It was the talk of the capital. Everyone said the Duke had single-handedly depleted the city of its competent physicians. There was even a joke going around that if you fell ill, it was best to do so near your estate.”

“Really?” Her family, and even the Duke, had shielded her from any gossip, so Solid’s words felt like news. Sophia was slightly surprised by the extent of his care, but not deeply touched. The five months she’d spent unconscious felt like something that had happened to someone else.

“People must find it absurd, my engagement to the Duke.”

“Don’t worry, Sophie. Everyone sees it as a romantic tale.”

“The fact that I was poisoned?” A self-deprecating smile touched her lips. Solid pulled her close, kissing her cheek.

“No, Sophie. The fact that you woke up and became engaged to the Duke.”

That night, for the first time, the Duke appeared in Sophia’s dreams. He was the first thing she saw. He stood on a very high dais, one arm resting on the railing, his expression bored and languid, as if waiting for something.

“[Sophia],” he called. Sophia was startled. How did he know she was there? But he wasn’t looking at her. She followed his gaze and finally saw herself, far below, ascending the countless steps that led to the dais. She was barefoot, clad in a white, translucent nightgown.

What is going on? She frowned at the strange dream. Oddly, she knew it was a dream. Her spectral self continued to climb, her expression vacant, as if she had lost something. Seeing herself from a third-person perspective, not through a mirror, was an unsettling experience.

Sophia tried to move closer to her dream-self. As she reached out to touch the translucent cheek, her vision abruptly shifted.

Now, she was the one facing the stairs. Her body moved without her command. She climbed tirelessly, as if pulled by an unseen force. The lack of control filled her with a sudden fear. It was terrifying to feel her body moving with a will of its own. She tried to grab her legs, to stop herself, but her body, like a stranger’s, continued its relentless ascent.

“[You’re slow],” the Duke on the dais said. His voice seemed to descend from the heavens. Impatient, he gestured, and Sophia’s body was instantly pulled towards him. He rose, caught her wrist, and steadied her. Her body went limp, like a hollow doll.

“[Sophia, I’ve never met a human as lazy and greedy as you. I’ve shown such patience, and yet you’re still like this],” the Duke scolded. His grip tightened painfully around her wrist, but she couldn’t speak. Her throat was constricted, her body paralyzed, as if every tendon had been severed. The Duke didn’t seem to expect her to move. Seemingly losing interest, he tossed her onto the cold dais and returned to his seat.

“[Damn it],” he muttered, a curse Sophia had never heard him utter before. His voice was raw with emotion, laced with frustration. He ran a hand through his hair.