31 - Whispers

**Amelia**

I gripped the hem of my dress tightly, the cool fabric grounding me against the fear and torrent of thoughts swirling in my head.

“Where have you been?” his expression was a carefully controlled mask. My husband always carried himself with a calculated grace, but I knew him well enough to see the tension in his posture.

I eased up a little bit and let a soft smile grace my features. “I just went for a horse ride. Why?”

He scoffed and shook his head. “You’ve been acting off lately. Since when did perfect ladies go for horse rides?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, pretending to be slightly offended. Okay… maybe I wasn’t pretending. “I just wanted to feel the rush. Sitting inside all day became boring, and I wanted the adrenaline.”

He took a step closer, his gaze boring into mine. “Do you think I’m a fool, Amelia?”  

I shook my head, trying not to look suspicious. “No, I do not.”

“I won’t repeat myself. Where did you go?”

“I already told you, Andrew. I went horse riding.” He still didn’t look convinced.

I gulped, my eyes moving between him and his now-raised hand. “The simple explanation for everything is that I have been bored. My husband is always busy and doesn’t even have sex with me anymore. Forgive me if I decided to entertain myself with a horse ride in the evening.”

I met his gaze evenly, my heart racing as I pieced together the lie I had prepared on the way back. Andrew’s blue eyes searched mine, his frustration barely concealed.

“I needed time away,” I said smoothly, letting a touch of weariness seep into my voice. “The castle has been… suffocating. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, the flicker of doubt I had anticipated. Andrew was too clever to take anything at face value, especially when it came to me. But I knew how to play this game.

“You could have said something,” he replied, his voice low. “I had people searching for you, Amelia. Do you have any idea what that looks like?”

I stepped closer, lowering my voice so only he could hear. “I know, and I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about appearances—I just needed space. You, of all people, should understand that.”

Andrew grabbed my chin, and his jaw tightened, “You of all people should know the Duchess of Doreau doesn’t just run off with a horse without letting anyone know about her whereabouts.”

“A-Andrew! You’re hurting me!” I shrieked, but he only increased the force he was using. Tears pricked my eyes and I cursed the day I got married to him. It wasn’t the first time he did this to me, and sadly, I knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“I don’t fucking care.” He spat, and grabbed my waist, pulling me closer to him. His fingernails dug into my skin, causing my eyes to water from the pain.

“Please…” I begged, but my cries fell on deaf ears. He looked like a malicious beast, different from the man I thought I was marrying.

My mind went back to when I saw my Father slap my Mother. Were all men like this?

“Do you know what I care about? Hmm!?” He seethed, digging his nails further. He wanted me to cry out in pain, and I was trying to not let him see me suffer.

“Andrew stop it!” He pushed me against the wall, my sides scraping my reading table as I choked on air from the impact. Why was he so angry? All I did was go out.

“You do not command me. I am the Duke of Doreau and I own you, not the other way around, understood?”

I nodded my head, as tears rolled down my cheek. I felt alone, helpless and weak. Was this what being ‘perfect’ was about? I thought our rewards were loving husbands, but I got a dick.

As if he came back to his senses, he exhaled, his eyes softening just enough to let me know the storm had passed—for now.

“Why were you looking for me?” I asked, tilting my head slightly as I wiped my tears.

Andrew’s expression shifted, closing off again. “It’s nothing,” he said, too quickly. “We’ll speak later. For now, get some rest.” I nodded, not wanting to push him further.

I watched his retreating figure, and a wave of fear crashed through me as I dropped to the bed, too weak to stand. If this was what I faced, what would Lysa be facing?

The dragon’s cruelty knew no limit, and if he took Lysa for her powers, then… The witch’s words echoed in my ears, her voice raspy yet eerily calm: “She is in danger because of what she is.”

I was so lost in thought that I almost didn’t notice the hushed voices coming from around the corner.

“…and the general’s daughter?” one voice whispered, low and hurried.

“She was offered as a concubine,” the other replied, her tone dripping with gossip. “Apparently, the general himself proposed it. Said it would strengthen ties between their families.”

I froze, my breath catching in my throat.

“Do you think he’ll accept?” the first voice asked, her excitement barely contained.

“It’s not for us to say,” the second servant replied, though her tone suggested she had plenty of opinions. “But he’s her husband, isn’t he? And yet…”

Their voices faded as they moved farther down the hall, leaving me rooted to the spot. My heart pounded in my chest, the words echoing in my mind like a cruel taunt.

The general’s daughter. Offered as a concubine.

The realization hit me like a blow. They were talking about Andrew—my husband.

I felt a sharp pang of something I couldn’t quite name. Betrayal? Jealousy? Or was it just anger?

My mind raced, the implications of what I had overheard spiralling out of control.

Andrew hadn’t mentioned anything about this, of course. He’d dismissed my question about why he was looking for me, brushing it off as if it were unimportant. But was this why? Had he known about the general’s offer and kept it from me?

If the maids knew about it, then it’s pretty much a done deal. Is that why he won’t have sex with me? Or was it because he found me unappealing as he usually said?

My thoughts twisted and turned, each one darker than the last.

I shook my head, trying to silence the doubts. No, Andrew wasn’t like that. He was distant, yes, and often infuriatingly secretive, but he wasn’t that cruel. He wouldn’t betray me like this.

Would he?

The memory of the servants’ conversation gnawed at me, refusing to be ignored. I knew I couldn’t confront him—not yet. Then I heard a knock.

“Come in,” I said, my voice low.

The maid bowed her head and reached inside her pocket. “You have letters for you, Lady Doreau.”

“From my mother?” I asked, my heart suddenly lighter.

“Yes,” she nodded, bringing out the letters. I noticed it before she voiced it out. The seals were different. “And another one from the Western King.”