Chapter 6 Those Red Eyes

• The morning came faster than I’d expected, and I spent the whole night tossing and turning, unable to find rest. Perhaps it was the newness of the room, or the smell of lavender and wood polish that lingered in the air, or maybe it was the fact that I had just become a duchess — the Duchess of Wilkshire, no less — married to a man who had made it abundantly clear that love would not be part of our arrangement. The Duke had said so himself, in a tone that left no room for doubt: "I cannot promise love," he’d told me, "only respect." As if respect was the consolation prize for marrying a man I barely knew.
• I sighed and pushed myself out of the enormous bed, feeling the weight of the unfamiliar silk sheets sliding off my shoulders. The room was cool, even though the sun had begun to warm the day, filtering through the curtains in a delicate golden glow. I crossed the floor to the window and pulled the curtains aside, allowing the light to flood in. The city of Wilkshire stretched out beneath me, a patchwork of cobblestone streets and clustered rooftops, with the distant spire of the church piercing the morning sky. It was a beautiful view, but it did little to ease the tightness in my chest.
• A light knock came at the door, and I turned to see a young maid entering the room. She had a soft, friendly face, with wide brown eyes and a dusting of freckles across her nose. She dipped into a curtsey, a strand of her chestnut hair falling loose from her cap. "Good morning, Your Grace," she said, her voice bright with nervous energy. "I am Winifred, your lady’s maid. I’ve come to assist you."
• I smiled, relieved to see a friendly face. "Good morning, Winifred," I replied. "It’s nice to meet you."
• She seemed to relax at my tone and quickly went to work, setting up the hot water for my bath and bringing a breakfast tray laden with fruit, pastries, and tea. I was surprised by how quickly we fell into easy conversation, the awkwardness between us dissipating with each passing minute. I learned that she had grown up in Wilkshire, that she had two younger brothers, and that her favorite place in the city was the market square, where street performers often entertained the crowds.
• After a warm bath and a surprisingly delightful breakfast, I decided that a walk around the city might help clear my mind and shake off the feeling of unease that had settled over me. Winifred seemed eager to accompany me, and I welcomed her presence. She knew the city well, and I found comfort in her quiet confidence.
• The city of Wilkshire was bustling with activity as we stepped out into the street. The sun was high, casting long shadows on the cobblestones, and the air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread and the hum of voices. Winifred pointed out various landmarks as we walked — the baker’s shop with the best tarts, the old apothecary with its strange potions and remedies, the cobbler who, she assured me, could make any pair of shoes feel like a cloud.
• I felt my mood lifting with every step. The city was vibrant, alive with color and sound, and I was beginning to see its charm. As we approached the market square, we came upon a small troupe of performers, dressed in mismatched costumes, their faces painted with bright colors. They were putting on a comedy play, and the crowd around them erupted in laughter. I found myself laughing too, caught up in the silliness of their performance.
• Wilkshire wasn’t all bad, I thought to myself. For a moment, I allowed myself to feel hopeful, to imagine that perhaps, with time, I might even come to love this place. But then, from the corner of my eye, I saw him — the Duke.
• He was standing across the square, watching me. My heart skipped a beat, caught off guard by his presence. I smiled, unsure whether to feel nervous or amused. He made his way over to me, his tall figure cutting through the crowd with ease.
• "I was wondering where my dear husband had run off to," I joked, trying to keep my tone light.
• He smiled, a rare, genuine smile that softened his usually stern features. "The church summoned me early," he explained. "Important matters, my love." He paused, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Did you miss me?"
• I laughed at his jest, surprised by his lightheartedness. It was funny how we both knew that this marriage was supposed to be loveless, yet moments like this made me wonder if, perhaps, one day, I might find it impossible to leave him.
• "How do you like the city of Wilkshire so far?" he asked, as we began to walk together, Winifred following a few steps behind us, along with two guards who kept a watchful eye on the crowd.
• "It’s nice," I replied, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. I realized then how much I had been craving this — his attention, his approval. "It has a certain charm," I added, glancing around at the bustling market square. "I like the liveliness of it all. The colors, the sounds… it’s different from what I’m used to, but in a good way."
• He nodded, seeming pleased by my answer. "I’m glad to hear that. Wilkshire has much to offer if one knows where to look," he said. His tone was warm, almost affectionate, and I felt myself relax a little more in his presence.
• We continued to talk, our conversation flowing easily, touching on everything from the city’s architecture to its traditions and festivals. I found myself enjoying his company more than I had expected. He was attentive, curious about my thoughts, and surprisingly witty when he allowed himself to be. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen before, and I wondered if perhaps there was more to him than the stern, reserved man I had married.
• But then, suddenly, the air around us changed. What had been a peaceful, sunny day seemed to shift in an instant. A hush fell over the crowd, and I felt a chill run down my spine. I glanced around, trying to understand what was happening. The laughter and chatter that had filled the market square moments before were replaced by a low, anxious murmur.
• Then came the sound — a low, rumbling noise that seemed to come from deep within the earth. The ground beneath my feet trembled, and I instinctively reached out for the Duke’s arm. He was already turning, his expression shifting from calm to alert.
• "Get back!" he shouted to the guards. "Take Her Grace to safety!"
• Before I could protest, the guards were at my side, moving to shield me, their hands on their weapons. I tried to peer around them, to see what was happening, but all I could see was confusion — people rushing past us, their faces pale with fear.
• And then I saw them. Eyes, red as fire, glowing in the shadows just beyond the market square. My breath caught in my throat. They were like nothing I had ever seen, not human, not animal. Just red, glowing eyes, staring back at me from the darkness.
• The Duke cursed under his breath. "Get her out of here, now!" he shouted to the guards, his voice sharp with urgency.
• But I couldn’t move. I was frozen, staring at those eyes, unable to look away. I felt the Duke’s hand on my arm, pulling me back, and I heard Winifred’s voice, her tone frantic and pleading.
• "Your Grace, please, we must go!" she urged, tugging at my sleeve.
• I forced myself to turn away, my heart pounding in my chest. The guards formed a protective circle around me, guiding me away from the square, but I couldn’t shake the image of those red eyes, glowing like embers in the dark. What were they? Who — or what — did they belong to?
• As we hurried through the streets, the sound of chaos behind us, I felt the Duke’s hand tighten around mine. For the first time since I had met him, I sensed fear in him. Real, palpable fear. And that terrified me more than anything.
• "What is happening?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
• He glanced at me, his expression tense. "I don’t know," he admitted. "But whatever it is, it isn’t good."
• We reached the steps of a nearby building — a church, I realized — and he pushed the heavy doors open, ushering me inside. The guards and Winifred followed, and the doors were slammed shut behind us.
• The Duke turned to me, his face grave. "Stay here," he commanded. "No matter what happens, do not leave this church."
• I nodded, though my mind was racing with questions. "What were those… eyes?" I asked, shuddering at the memory.
• He shook his head. "I don’t know," he repeated, "but I will find out." He glanced at the guards. "Stay with her," he ordered, and then, without another word, he turned and disappeared back through the doors.
• I watched him go, a knot of fear tightening in my stomach. Whatever was happening in Wilkshire, it
• was only just beginning. And I had a feeling it was far worse than anything I could have imagined.