From Sacrificial Lamb To His Queen

Seraphina POV:

Lord Gideon didn’t say a word when he saw me. The smile that had been fixed on my face instantly vanished.

The position he assumed was more rigid and textbook than the diagrams in those aristocratic courtship manuals Agatha Foster had shoved at me. His eyes—those deep, intimidating dragon eyes—were devoid of even a flicker of lust or warmth. I froze completely.

Did his wife and mistresses really not require a shred of tenderness? I had been given a second chance at life; was it too much to ask for a little bit of enjoyment for myself?

With that thought, I reached out, my gaze dripping with feigned affection, and grasped His Lordship's hands.

He stopped immediately. Perhaps it was the first time anyone had dared interrupt him in such a moment. He stared down at me, a mix of confusion and impatience brewing in his expression.

"My Lord," I murmured, forcing my voice into a register so breathy and sweet it practically burned my throat. "You exhaust yourself for the duchy all day. Please, let your servant tend to you tonight. Allow me to... take the lead. Just indulge me this once, please?"

I had to secure my own happiness, even if it meant playing this ridiculous part. Gideon just looked at me without a word. His dark eyes were bottomless, giving nothing away. Had I angered him? Afraid to hesitate any longer, I whispered a seductive thank you and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He seemed entirely unprepared for such an aggressive approach. He stiffened, and in that split second of hesitation, I slipped past his guard. But before I could go further, his large hand clamped down on me, halting my movements entirely. His face darkened.

"Insolence," he hissed, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

Seeing his sudden anger, I quickly forced tears into my eyes, letting them pool pitifully. I noticed his posture relax a fraction at the sight of my submissive, teary gaze—apparently, my display of vulnerability satisfied his draconian pride.

Feigning absolute terror at his reprimand, I gave a violent shudder and stopped completely, gazing up at him like a startled deer. But an instant later, I boldly caught his hand.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

I peered up at him innocently, though I was laughing inwardly. Clearly, a man's hands were incredibly sensitive, and the great Dragon-born heir was no exception. Outwardly, I immediately plastered on a look of utter adoration, softening my voice to a sickly-sweet pitch.

"My Lord, the outside world claims your achievements are solely due to the Carlisle Duchy's influence. But when I feel the calluses on your palms and fingertips, I know the truth... You've earned every bit of your glory through your own blood and sweat!"

I could see the subtle softening in his jawline—the flattery had definitely hit its mark, even though he maintained his stern facade.

"Speak properly," he scolded. "Do not try to curry favor."

"Yes, My Lord," I agreed obediently, though I deliberately dragged out the syllables into a melodious, teasing purr that I knew would crawl under a man's skin.

Seeing my wide, innocent eyes, he clearly knew I was doing it on purpose. With an exasperated huff, he crashed his lips against mine, silencing me. Knowing I had finally sparked something real, I eagerly took the initiative. The experience that followed turned out far better than the rigid chore I had anticipated just moments ago.

When it was all over, I lay on the grand bed, quietly disgusted. If I actually fell asleep on these damp, tangled sheets, I’d probably wake up with aching joints. I was only here to fulfill my duty as a low-tier mate to breed an heir, not because I was actually in love with the Lord. Whoever wanted to suffer through this miserable aftermath could have at it.

With that thought, I quietly slipped out of the bed and properly dressed myself. Taking the proof of my completed duty, I offered Gideon a flawless curtsy.

"My Lord, I shall not disturb your rest any longer. I beg my leave."

Before he could say a word, I turned and made my exit. I caught a glimpse of genuine surprise flashing across his face. Perhaps he was used to mistresses who lingered, desperately trying to stay the night or coax him into another round to secure his favor. Whatever the case, he simply gave a slow nod, seemingly letting my earlier audacity slide.

Honestly, I couldn't care less about what Gideon thought of me. Now that my task was complete, all I wanted was a good night's sleep. Trudging back to the servant's quarters Agatha had arranged for me, I hastily drew some water, scrubbed myself clean, and collapsed onto my own bed, sprawling out comfortably.

I ran the calculations in my head: with this done, I wouldn't have to worry about facing Duchess Eleanor empty-handed tomorrow. My position in the castle was secure, at least for now. Letting out a long, heavy sigh, the tight knot of anxiety in my chest finally unraveled. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep, only to be shaken awake at dawn by the soft whispers of Poppy Miller.

"Miss Seraphina, wake up! It's time to pay your respects to the Lady at the main estate!"