The morning sun cast long, pale shadows across the courtyard of the Artois estate.
Dozens of servants rushed about, loading heavy, magic-infused trunks into a line of luxurious carriages bearing the sapphire and silver crest of the Duchy. Today was the day the sole heir of Artois would depart for the Imperial Magic Academy.
Asher stood near the carriage door, dressed in the immaculate, tailored uniform of an Academy student. The deep sapphire cravat rested heavy against his throat, a vibrant contrast to his black hair and pale skin. He kept his gray eyes lowered, his posture rigid and perfect. He looked every bit the polished, obedient proxy the Duke expected him to be.
"You look tense, boy," a cold voice stated.
Asher bowed deeply as the Duke of Artois approached. The towering man’s silver eyes swept over Asher, analytical and devoid of warmth.
"I am merely anticipating my duties to Lady Elara, Your Grace," Asher replied evenly.
"See that you do. The contract you signed binds your core to her stability. Should she suffer a mana overflow because you were negligent, the magic will tear your veins apart before my knights even draw their swords."
Asher felt a phantom throb in his chest where the crimson soul-tether lay dormant beneath the Duke’s golden subjugation spell. ‘If you only knew what she wove into your contract,’ Asher thought, suppressing a bitter smile.
"I will not fail, Your Grace."
"Father!"
Elara emerged from the grand doors of the estate, flanked by maids. She was a vision of aristocratic perfection, wearing a dark blue traveling dress that matched Asher’s cravat perfectly. Her silver hair was braided with pearls, and her violet eyes sparkled with innocent excitement.
She ran lightly to the Duke, offering a flawless curtsy before wrapping her small arms around his waist.
"I will miss you, Father," she murmured, burying her face in his coat.
The Duke’s stern expression softened slightly. He placed a large, heavy hand on her silver head. "Focus on your studies, Elara. Do not let the lesser nobles waste your time. And if your core acts up, do not hesitate to use the boy."
"I won't," Elara smiled, pulling back. She turned her bright, dazzling gaze to Asher. "Asher will take very good care of me. Won't you?"
"With my life, My Lady," Asher recited the necessary script.
The carriage door was opened by a knight. Elara stepped up gracefully, turning back to offer Asher her hand. It was a complete inversion of protocol—the proxy was supposed to assist the master, not the other way around. But Asher knew better than to hesitate.
He took her lace-gloved hand and stepped into the plush, velvet-lined interior of the carriage. The door shut with a heavy thud, sealing them inside.
The moment the carriage lurched forward, leaving the Artois estate behind, the temperature inside the cabin seemed to plummet.
Elara didn't let go of his hand. Instead, she tugged him forward, forcing him to sit on the same bench as her rather than the opposite seat. The space was incredibly cramped.
The innocent, daughterly smile melted off her face, leaving behind a heavy, languid expression of pure obsession. She leaned her weight against him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Finally," she breathed, her voice dropping to a dark, velvet whisper. "Just the two of us."
Asher sat as stiff as a board. The sickeningly sweet scent of roses clouded his senses. He tried to subtly shift his weight away from her, to put even an inch of distance between their bodies.
Instantly, a sharp, searing pain flared in his chest.
Asher gasped quietly, his hand flying to his sternum. The crimson thread of the soul-tether pulsed violently against his unformed core, reacting to her sudden flash of displeasure at his rejection.
Elara tilted her head up, her violet eyes gleaming with a terrifying, amused light.
"Ah. Do you feel it?" she whispered, lifting her hand to gently press her palm flat against his chest, right over his racing heart. "I wove the tether directly into my emotional state, my love. When you pull away... when you try to reject me... it hurts you. Because it hurts me."
She traced a slow circle over his heart.
"But when you stay close," she continued, her voice softening into a sickly sweet purr, "when you accept your place by my side... it feels like a warm embrace, doesn't it?"
As she leaned closer, deliberately relaxing her mana and projecting an overwhelming sense of affection, the burning pain in Asher’s chest subsided, replaced by a heavy, unnatural warmth that made his stomach turn. She was using the contract to physically condition him.
"You are insane," Asher whispered, his voice shaking with tightly leashed fury.
Elara smiled, her eyes curving into beautiful, demonic crescents. "I am in love. There is a difference, Asher. Now, be a good proxy and put your arm around me. It is a long journey to the Academy, and I am feeling rather sleepy."
Asher’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He looked at the reflection of her serene, expectant face in the carriage window.
Slowly, humiliatingly, he raised his arm and draped it over her shoulders.
Elara sighed in pure, unadulterated bliss, snuggling deeper into his side. "Perfect," she murmured, closing her eyes.
As the carriage rolled toward the capital, Asher stared blankly at the passing scenery, his mind racing with calculations. She had chained his body and his magic, but she couldn't chain his mind. The Imperial Academy possessed the largest repository of ancient magic on the continent.
‘Sleep while you can, Elara,’ he thought, his gray eyes cold and unyielding. ‘The moment those Academy gates open, the real war begins.
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