He'd been brought in after the Duke finally tired of Seraphine's idiocy and vanity. An imbecile like her had no business influencing the Royal Family from the sidelines, so the Duke plucked a son straight from the royal bloodline itself.

The King, wary of the Arlowe's growing wealth and power, began scheming. The Duke's only weakness was his daughter.

A vile, foolish creature who had single-handedly ruined Elias's chance at the crown, patched up the power struggle in King's favour, and lost her own right as heir in the process.

Elias could never forgive the hand this witch had dealt him. Even after being dragged to the Dukedom, he refused to meet her. If she wandered into the garden near the training grounds, he made certain to be elsewhere.

Thankfully, the Duke seemed to share his disdain   he'd never even had the misfortune of laying eyes on her.

Not until the day of his monthly summons to the capital.

The King's court liked to call them "visits," though they were litlle more than interrogations   probing him for scraps of information about the Duke.

On the carriage ride home, staring absently out the window and contemplating the future of his lands, something caught his attention. A streak of golden hair, glinting in the sun as though gravity itself had given up, rushed past his view.

His gaze followed the movement automatically.

And there she was.

The most beautiful maiden he had ever seen   until recognition sank in like a blade.

It was her.

The bitch.