No words manage to come out of me as I remain frozen as an ice statue, Duke Hawthorne's disconcerting grin gleaming against the darkness in contrast.

"Wh-wh-why?" I finally sputtered.

"Our contract, remember?" He's leaning into me, just on the cusp of my personal space but it's enough to make me shift nervously. Damn the man—why is he so big? Literally, I can't see an escape route past his frame and I take another step back, hitting a wall.

"Now?" I squeaked.

"Yes. Now."

Shit. Whatever. Why am I so scared? Nothing will happen between us. We hate each other and that's something I need to keep reminding myself—especially when he's gazing at me so intently.

"Fine," I returned firmly, tapping his shoulder so he moves aside. "Where's the bathroom?"

His grin remains intact and Hawthorne lingers a fraction longer before allowing me to sidestep past him. He's obviously enjoying teasing me because I'm blindly opening and shutting doors, grunting in frustration until I find the correct set. I slam the bathroom door shut and hear a chuckle snake through its frame.

Rolling my eyes, I pull, tug, and undo the fastenings of my dress, discarding layers until all that remains is an undergarment slip.

Yanking the door open with force, I huff from the effort it took to simply get undressed and march to the bed. Flinging sheets aside, I crawl—yes, actually crawl across the monstrosity of a bed and heavily sigh once I've puffed pillows and let my head rest against one of them.

"Satisfied?" I erupted incredulously, turning my head to the other side to see Duke Hawthorne smirk.

"Interesting choice of words."

"Oh, will you grow up? Now get in. I have more questions to ask."

I stare pointedly at him, thanking the dark for concealing the flush that travels up to my cheeks and do my best to remain unaffected by his presence that dilutes the air into producing an intense warmth.

Hawthorne slides in, propping himself to one side to face me as I shift my gaze to focus on the ceiling.

"Why haven't I seen a wizard at either of our estates?" I demanded, diving right into my series of questions.

I sense his surprise, and catch a bewildered expression from the corner of one eye. Hawthorne considers it momentarily, and then dives right into an explanation.

"Nobles aren't allowed to harness magic. The Academy of Magic and Forbidden Arts is strictly authorized to utilize it. They work alongside the crown but are by no means, under its influence."

"So what do the wizards do?"

"Plenty. They usually have a particular strand of talent. Healers work in hospitals, naturalists usually focus on agriculture and taming wild lands, and some prefer to root out corruption through concealment and disguise."

Wizards as civil servants? This is the one good thing I've encountered about this novel's setting.

"What about beasts? Do they all talk?" I asked.

"No. Domesticated ones are usually pets but magical beasts are intelligent creatures who have adapted over time. They usually live on their own lands and enter the kingdom either in passing or to aid in particular crafts. Blade masters, especially."

"Do you think whoever is after me has a wizard or beast on their side?"

"No. If they did, you wouldn't be alive."

Except I'm Blair Aven, a plain event planner who's been reborn as Evara Storm. The first attempt might have been successful if it weren't for transmigration.

"Anything else on your mind?" Hawthorne whispered, perching a brow at my look of concentration.

"Yes."

"All right, let's hear it."

"I'm sorry, Eli."

"What?" he questioned, skepticism rife in his voice.

"I apologize for causing you grief for so long. I should never have let hate determine the outcome of my life or my relations to those around me."

You're welcome, Evara. One of us has to mend fences and feel guilty about what's been said and done.

He turns on his back and looks at the ceiling along with me. "I want to believe you, Evara but—"

"Belief has nothing to do with sympathy. Or doing what's right in this situation. It's an apology that's been long overdue."

Silence.

Mentally, I hear the creaking of one cricket turn into an orchestra of them playing a theme of awkward moments.

Hawthorne sighs and I take that as my cue to release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"Good night, Eli."

I shut my eyes and hardly expect a reply when he shifts across the bed, his breath tickling my ear. "Good night, Evara."

**********
I hear it before I'm even fully awake.

The thunderous pounding of horses and the rattle of carriages. Groaning, I yank a pillow over my face and ears to drown the noise but it only gets closer.

"Make it stop," I rasped.

Excessive knocking at the door accompanies the clamouring outside and despite every effort to keep my eyes closed for an extra five minutes, I crank them open.

Groggily, I toss a pillow at the door in retaliation and then turn to find Eli still fast asleep. Sighing, I drag myself to the door to find a nervous bundle of servants.

"Your grace!" One burst.

"Oh please, what do we do?" Another cried.

"I've never seen anything like it!"

"His lordship surely—"

"Everybody freeze!" I demanded, wincing at how my head spins from their urgent appeals.

Eli comes up from behind, tossing a robe over my shoulders and tightens its knot before addressing them. "What's going on?"

"It's Duke Storm!" They all burst in unison.

My new husband and I exchange a look—confusion laced with tiredness.

"What about—" I began, but the booming voice of Duke Storm comes flying down the hall.

"Evara! Evara where are you? Where's my daughter?"

Deflating at the energy in his voice and the lack of it in myself, I trudge towards the bustle of servants scurrying around Duke Storm in a flurry.

"Father, what is all this?" I questioned weakly, watching wide eyed as wrapped parcels and chests are being carried indoors.

Duke Storm chuckles, caging me in a hug and makes a grand gesture towards the piled up goods. "I've come to deliver your dowry."

"Oh."

Most of the servants file outside to bring in another load of gifts and the Duke finally releases me. The smile slithers away quickly, a sharp look of calculation taking over. "And to make a few demands of your new husband."

As if on cue, Hawthorne descends the stairs and greets his uninvited in-law. "Duke Storm, a pleasure to be sure."

They stare at one another as if entrenched in a silent conversation, but Eli breaks away from it first to produce a pair of heeled slippers for me. He quietly bends to place them before me as I wriggle my toes from the realization that I left the bedroom barefooted.

"Thank you," I mumbled, feeling way too exposed against a sea of workers as footmen and maids run back and forth.

"Tell me, daughter. Are you happy?" Duke Storm quickly demanded in a hushed tone for only Hawthorne and I to hear.

I'm stunned and too tired to give an answer and rely on the one thing that's worked for me so far. "Tea, perhaps?" I offered lightly, taking my father's arm and guiding him away from curious listeners.

Hawthorne seems to follow out of discomforted worry and we're not ten seconds into a private room when Duke Storm whirls around, eyes shining. "So, when can I expect a grandchild?"

**********