Through the carriage window, Adelina watched the Pembroke estate materialize from the landscape.
The family was as ancient and distinguished as the royal line itself—a heritage reflected in every stone of the sprawling manor. The architecture spoke of centuries: elegant arches, weathered granite, sprawling wings that had been added generation by generation. The princess found herself momentarily awestruck by the sheer grandeur of it all.
"Are you nervous?"
Alexio's question drew her attention away from the view. She nodded honestly and lowered the curtain, blocking out the intimidating sight.
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't." Her fingers twisted in her lap. "The first time doing anything is always nerve-wracking."
She assumed the Duke remained perpetually composed—unshakable in all circumstances. And judging by his expression, that assumption proved correct. Alexio Pembroke seemed to find the entire concept of first-time jitters somewhat foreign, though he had the grace not to point this out.
Truly befitting behavior for an aristocrat.
"Don't concern yourself with executing everything flawlessly," he said after a moment. "It's enough that you agreed to become a duchess in the first place."
The words were meant to be encouraging. Instead, they stung.
The princess had been informed from the outset that her primary value lay in her title, but hearing Alexio confirm his low expectations—so casually, so matter-of-factly—left a hollow feeling in her chest. Perhaps this man treated everyone with such calculated pragmatism, but it didn't make the assessment any less unsettling.
Her worth, it seemed, was limited to her royal blood.
Despite the ache of disappointment, Adelina kept her expression neutral. This was a marriage that had never promised room for hurt feelings.
"Nevertheless," she said carefully, "I wish to conduct myself appropriately. If I fulfill my duties as duchess to the best of my ability, it won't be considered a breach of contract, will it?"
"Of course not." His tone was matter-of-fact. "Even if you somehow manage to ruin everything, it won't constitute a breach."
"You think I'm *likely* to ruin everything?"
This time, she couldn't quite hide the note of injury in her voice.
Alexio remained infuriatingly calm.
"I always consider every possible outcome. Therefore, I naturally account for the possibility that you might make mistakes."
"In your estimation," Adelina said slowly, "this probability seems rather high."
Alexio neither confirmed nor denied the observation—an evasion typical of aristocratic circles. Deciding to mirror his approach, Adelina arranged her features into a pleasant smile.
"You are very diplomatic, Alexio."
"Thank you, Adelina."
Accepting praise even when it was thinly veiled mockery was also an integral part of aristocratic life. Alexio's mouth quirked with amusement as he watched the princess struggle to maintain her forced smile.
"I don't underestimate your capabilities," he said after a moment, his voice softer. "I simply want you to understand that even if you stumble, it's of no consequence. Regardless of your performance, your 'opponent' is exceedingly formidable."
"You're referring to Madame Pembroke?"
"She's invested considerable effort into maintaining her position of power."
The cryptic remark hung in the air as the carriage rolled to a smooth stop.
They had arrived.
"We have reached the estate, Your Grace." Simeon's voice filtered through from outside, announcing their arrival.
Before signaling his readiness to depart, Alexio turned to Adelina with an unexpected proposal.
"Since our life together begins in earnest today, I'd like to make an offer." He studied her carefully. "You're free to refuse, of course."
"What sort of offer?"
"*Adele.*"
The girl's eyes widened.
Until this moment, only her blood relatives had ever addressed her by the intimate shortening of her name. A slight smile crossed the Duke's features.
"I've decided it's only natural for a devoted couple to use each other's given names." His tone was light, almost teasing. "Would you permit me to address you this way on occasion—to make our affection more convincing? My dearest princess?"
The request caught her off guard. After a moment's consideration, though, she concluded there was no real reason to object. After all, this wasn't the first time he'd used her name so informally.
"I... didn't expect such a formal request." She tilted her head, genuinely puzzled. "Didn't you already address me similarly back at the Roche estate?"
It was a perfectly reasonable observation from a princess who had assumed such informality would be employed whenever circumstances required it.
The Duke's smile widened, clearly amused by her response.
"In any case, I prefer to observe proper protocols." He shrugged one shoulder. "Of course, my name carries far less value than yours, so you may use it whenever you wish."
"Very well... Alexio."
"Thank you, Adelina."
They held each other's gaze for a long moment, the use of given names settling between them like a new arrangement. The exchange had been framed as equal terms, yet somehow it felt as though one party had clearly conceded ground.
Noticing the princess's subtle displeasure, Alexio produced an envelope from his inner coat pocket.
"Consider this a token of gratitude for permitting me to use your name." He extended it toward her. "I was planning to give this to you regardless, but now seems an opportune moment."
"I never expected compensation for something so simple, Duke—" She caught herself. "*Alexio.*"
"Exactly so." The man corrected her with such natural ease, as though they had addressed each other this way their entire lives. His effortless confidence was genuinely disconcerting.
"I... never expected anything in return, Alexio." The words felt strange on her tongue—too intimate, too familiar.
The Duke inclined his head with the polished grace of a true gentleman.
"Perhaps not. But this represents a promise made to my father-in-law."
Despite the hint, Adelina still couldn't decipher his meaning. Considering her father's character, the notion seemed especially peculiar. How could this man have negotiated anything on his daughter's behalf without receiving something concrete in exchange?
Seeing her confusion, Alexio gently shook the envelope—an invitation to examine its contents.
Hesitantly, the princess accepted the offered item and broke the seal.
"What... is this?"
The contents took her breath away. Adelina's eyes widened even further than when she'd first heard her name spoken so intimately moments before.
"Why are you giving me a *check*?"
The envelope contained a signed promissory note. And not a modest one—the sum was staggering. The princess counted the zeros once, then twice, then a third time, certain her eyes were deceiving her. But the number remained unchanged.
The weightless slip of paper representing an absolute fortune suddenly felt impossibly heavy. Her hands began to tremble.
Now that she held the concrete evidence, the Duke's earlier words made perfect sense.
"Isn't this the sum you promised my father?" Adelina's voice emerged barely above a whisper.
She knew exactly how much Alexio had boldly offered Prince Arthur to secure consent for the marriage. She simply hadn't expected to hold that money in her own hands.
The Duke inclined his head slightly, watching her blink in stunned confusion.
"I promised to pay the sum, certainly. But I never specified the recipient." The princess didn't know the precise terms her father and Alexio had negotiated. Judging by the man's confidence, however, his interpretation was likely accurate.
"'I, Alexio Pembroke, promise to pay ten billion *clons* within three days of my marriage to Adelina Brielle Estri-Riochel.'" He recited the vow with perfect recall, then shrugged. "It was never stated that I must deliver the funds to *your father*."
If Prince Arthur had overheard this conversation, he would have flushed crimson with indignation, no doubt accusing the Duke of verbal trickery and semantic manipulation.
Imagining her father's apoplectic reaction, Adelina felt her lips twitch despite herself.
"I assumed Father had already received payment."
"The honeymoon is considered part of the marriage ceremony, is it not?" Alexio's tone was perfectly reasonable. More precisely, a marriage was deemed valid only after the wedding night—assuming neither spouse raised objections. The ostensible purpose of this custom was to confirm the bride's virginity, though nobles who valued propriety preferred to frame it in more euphonious terms: *the honeymoon completes the sacred union*.
"Consider this my wedding gift to my wife." His voice carried a note of dark satisfaction. "The jewelry, after all, was given primarily for my own benefit."
Watching Adelina's mouth fall open in astonishment, Alexio allowed the corner of his lips to curve upward—an expression that lent his handsome features a distinctly villainous cast.
"The money is yours now. Use it however you see fit." His eyes glinted. "As a weapon, if necessary."
Adelina stared at the check, utterly stunned.
It was the most leverage—the most raw *power*—she had ever held in her hands. Thoughts raced through her mind in rapid succession, each one branching into a dozen possibilities.
*This changes everything.*
Alexio observed his contemplative wife for a long moment. Then he turned toward the window and nodded to Simeon.
It was time.
Time to set foot on Pembroke soil—to enter the battlefield where a treacherous enemy awaited them both.
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