The duke was waiting for her at the entrance to the grand banquet hall, splendidly dressed in the Greystone colors. His eyes shone appreciatively as he took her arm.

"My enchanting Valentina," he murmured. "You're outshining everyone else today."

The duchess stood beside him, elegantly dressed in silver-grey brocade. Her smile was cool, but not unfriendly, as she greeted Valentina with a precisely measured bow.

The banquet hall was a marvel of Essence-enhanced light and shadow. Master Lucian had outdone himself – crystal Essence lamps floated beneath the vaulted ceiling with no visible suspension and their lights cast a warm glow.

The duke led her to the platform at the head of the hall, where there were three magnificent chairs – his in the middle, the duchess's on the right and, to Valentina's surprise, a third for her on the left. An unmistakable gesture.

"Look," hissed Lady Wicklethorne to her eldest daughter, loud enough to be heard. "She sits enthroned beside him like a queen."

"Hush, mother," her daughter murmured nervously, "the duke is looking over."

The musicians began to play as the first courses were served. Valentina watched the courtly ballet of the servants as they served plates of exquisite food with precisely rehearsed movements.

The duke leaned towards her. "Do you see Baron Sebastian over there with a look of suffering? His young wife is beside herself with jealousy. She heard about our... more private pleasures after the garden party."

Valentina blushed slightly. The memory of the night was still very fresh.

After the meal, the dance began. The duke opened with her, his large hand warm on her waist. "You are the most sought-after dance partner tonight," he murmured. "Every man here wants to hold you in his arms. It makes me a happy man to know, that you'll end up in mine this night."

He handed her over to Master Bloomfield, who skillfully led her through a complicated pavane. While Valentina felt a little awkward in his arms, Bloomfield seemed as enthusiastic and relaxed as ever. "I enjoyed our last encounter very much, my dearest," he whispered to her.

Baron Sebastian was next, sighing to her during the dance about his grumpy wife, followed by Master Lucian, who discreetly whispered the latest court intrigues to her during the dance. Lady Celestine, meanwhile, danced with the duke, her movements seductively elegant.

"They all want a piece of you today," commented Vyxara. "How exciting. But watch out – here comes Lorenzo."

He bowed formally to her. "May I have this dance?"

His hand trembled slightly as he touched her waist. They danced in silence at first, the tension between them felt like a barrier. His green eyes were dark with suppressed emotion.

"You look beautiful tonight," he finally said quietly.

"Lorenzo..."

"No, please." His voice was soft. "Let's just... have this moment."

They continued to move to the music, his guidance sure and elegant. He had never held her quite like this before, so close, so gentle. The fine scent of his perfume mingled with that of the roses the duke had decorated the room with.

"Do you remember Bridgewater?" he asked suddenly. "I often saw you in the library. You were always so engrossed in your books. The other first-year students struggled with the basics, but you... you were already studying advanced theories. I knew right away that you..." He broke off, swallowing hard.

"What did you know?" she asked quietly.

Lorenzo's grip on her waist tightened imperceptibly. "That you're extraordinary. That you..." He faltered again, visibly struggling with himself. "Valentina, I..."

The music ended. Lorenzo took a step back, the unspoken words hanging heavily between them. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"I wish you all the best," he finally said stiffly and bowed.

The duke appeared beside them like a shadow. "May I ask for the enchanting lady for another dance?"

When Lorenzo withdrew without a word, the duke pulled her close to him. His touch was familiar, his smile warm.

"You dance so gracefully and are as beautiful as a goddess tonight," he murmured appreciatively. "I'm the envy of every man in the room."

Valentina relaxed in his arms. It was easy with him – no unresolved feelings, no painful longings. Just the familiar game of power and desire.

"This is your evening," he murmured. "I hope you enjoy it. You've earned your place here."

They danced on, his hand warm on her waist. The evening passed with lots of music, wine and hushed conversation. Eventually the hall began to empty

The duke led Valentina in a final, slow dance as the banquet hall emptied. His hand wrapped possessively around her.

"Let's go to your chambers tonight," the duke murmured in her ear between two dance steps, his hand moving lower on her waist, almost on her bottom. "On your birthday, you shall enjoy the night in your own bed."

Valentina shivered under his touch, the mixture of wine, dance and his skillful hands made her dizzy with desire. The duke used a particularly slow turn of the pavane to pull her even closer to him, his lips brushing against her neck.

The last guests took their leave. Lady Celestine winked at Valentina as she left the room on Master Bloomfield's arm. Out of the corner of her eye, Valentina saw Lorenzo at the other end of the room, but the Duke skillfully diverted her attention with another turn.

As they made their way through the silent corridors of the palace at night, they barely made any progress because the duke kept pushing her against the wall to kiss her. Valentina giggled as his hands wandered under her skirts.

"Oh, he just can't wait today," Vyxara commented with amusement. "How impatient he is. How eager."

Jenny scurried out of the room with an embarrassed smile as the duke kissed Valentina through the door. He barely seemed to notice the gifts on the tables, too busy undoing her dress. "Do you like my ring?" he murmured between kisses. His fingers played with the grey gemstone on her hand. "I hope it was your favorite present today."

"Mmh," Valentina purred, too distracted by his hands for a proper answer.

"Oh, how sweet you guys are," Vyxara commented amusedly. "So impatient. So demanding.

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His lips found hers in a passionate kiss, while his hands deftly undid the laces of her dress. Valentina sighed into his mouth, her own fingers impatiently beginning to undo his robe.

"You were breathtaking tonight," he whispered between kisses. "The most beautiful woman in the whole palace."

"Only because you gave me such nice presents," she teased him and pulled him closer to her. Valentina shivered under his touch. His kisses became more demanding, more passionate.

The familiar heat spread through Valentina's body. The duke knew her well by now and knew exactly how to touch her to make her moan.

"Mmh, what a perfect night," Vyxara purred contentedly. "A worthy end to your birthday."

The dress fell to the floor with a silky swish. The duke pushed her gently but firmly towards the bed, his hands warm on her bare skin while Valentina pulled the duke after her, laughing, her hands tugging impatiently at his remaining clothes.

His own clothes followed hers until there was nothing between them but the heavy air of the summer night on their sweaty skin.

His lips wandered over her neck while his fingers prepared her for him, opened her legs and felt her wetness. Valentina bent towards him, her body responding as willingly as ever to his experienced touch.

"Lorenzo came to see me today," he said suddenly, his voice velvety soft against her ear. He penetrated her at that moment, filling her completely. "He asked for your hand."

The words hit Valentina like a blow. Her heart stopped, but her body continued to move to the rhythm of his thrusts inside her. This cruel simultaneousness – the pleasure coursing through her veins as her mind writhed – made her dizzy.

"As a duke, of course, I had to tell him it was impossible." His voice remained calm and controlled, as he moved deep inside her. "You are not a noblewoman, after all."

His hand slid between their bodies, finding the spot that made her gasp. Valentina hated herself for the way her body reacted, the way the waves of pleasure mixed with her desperation. She wanted to cry, to scream, to fight back – and at the same time she couldn't help but move towards him.

"As his father, I told him that he will marry the woman I choose for him. And that's not you."

Valentina wanted to turn her head away, but his gaze held her relentlessly. Her body betrayed her, continuing to respond to his touch, even though her mind wanted to squirm away.

"And as a man..." he accelerated his movements, thrusting into her harder and more demanding, "I told him he couldn't marry my mistress."

"Oh..." Vyxara breathed, even the demon was speechless for a moment in the face of this calculated cruelty.

Valentina felt as if she was being torn in half. There was her body, approaching the peak, with the duke between her legs, on her, in her, responding to his every touch. And there was her heart, contracting at the thought of Lorenzo, of all the unspoken possibilities the duke was destroying.

"You're mine, Valentina," he murmured, his lips on her neck. "Only mine."

And the worst thing was – a part of her wanted exactly that. Wanted to lose herself in this certainty, in the clarity of his claims to ownership, which were so much simpler than the complicated truth of her feelings for Lorenzo.

"Allow it," Vyxara whispered gently. "Allow the pain. Allow the pleasure. Both are part of you."

The duke drove them both relentlessly towards climax, never losing his control. Valentina felt tears stinging her eyes as the heat built in her abdomen. She was his mistress, his possession – and at this moment, that was both her greatest humiliation and her most intense fulfillment.

"Look at me," he commanded gently. She opened her eyes and met his gaze. In the darkness, his eyes were as black as ink.

She came with a stifled sob, her body trembling beneath his. The duke followed shortly after, his grip on her hips tight enough to leave a mark. She felt exposed, used and – worst of all – fulfilled.

They lay still for a long moment, only their heavy breathing breaking the silence. The duke gently stroked her hair, a tender gesture that hurt her almost more than his brutal honesty had before. As if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't just broken her heart while driving her body to climax.

"You are so beautiful when you give yourself to me," he murmured. He kissed her shoulder, her cheek, her tears. There was real affection in the touch – and that only made it worse. He was not a monster. He was a man who loved her in his own way – on his own terms.

"Breathe, little Weaver," Vyxara whispered.

Valentina lay still in his arms, unable to speak. She felt strangely detached from herself, as if she were looking down on the scene from above, in the way a being like Vyxara might look at people – the powerful duke and his young mistress entwined in rumpled sheets, a timeless scene of power and submission.

"It was a lesson," Vyxara said quietly. "Not a punishment. He wanted to show you who you are to him. Who he is to you. He was communicating in the only two languages he knows – power and lust."

The duke finally rose and dressed. He bent over her once more and kissed her with genuine tenderness. "Sleep well, my beauty." One last loving smile, then he was gone.

Valentina lay motionless for a long time, staring at the ceiling of her room. She felt empty and full at the same time, her body still trembling from the intensity of what she had experienced, her heart heavy and sore

Silent tears ran down her cheeks. The scent of the duke still lingered in her sheets, mingling with the salty smell of her tears.

"Let it out," Vyxara murmured softly. "No one sees you. No one but me."

They were not just tears of sadness or humiliation. There was also a feeling of deeper understanding – of the duke, of herself, of the reality of her position in his life. He had shown her the truth, brutally but honestly. Had left her no false hope.

"He could have done it differently," she whispered, but she wasn't convinced herself. "More considerate, less cruel, not so...

"And would you have used a blunt blade for such an operation? No, instead he turned it into something intimate," said Vyxara. "A moment between the two of you. In his own way, it was almost... respectful. You understand him better now. The duke. The man. He will always be both – the man who takes you with tenderness, and the duke who needs absolute control, over his duchy, over his family, over you."

"And I like both," Valentina admitted, sobbing quietly, "I still do. I'm such a stupid woman, I want him anyway. But I can never forget who he is again."

"Nor should you," Vyxara replied gently. "It doesn't make you stupid, on the contrary. It makes you smarter. Stronger. You can still desire him, still enjoy his company – but now you know exactly where the limits are. You've lost nothing but your illusions."

She thought of Lorenzo, of his courage and his stupidity in asking the duke for her hand in marriage. Had he really believed his father would agree? Or had it been a last, desperate attempt to rebel against his fate?

"He loves you. Men do stupid and brave things out of love. You should go to the sink, freshen up," Vyxara suggested gently. "It will do you good."

Valentina finally sat up and wiped her eyes. Her body felt sore, used. She went to the wash basin, the cold water on her heated skin was a bit of a shock.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror – her cheeks were still flushed, her lips swollen from his kisses. The grey gemstone on her hand sparkled in the moonlight and the sight of it made her heart heavy again.

"He didn't break you", Vyxara said quietly. "That was never his intention. He just wanted to show you who was in control. And... he wanted to make sure you tore Lorenzo from your heart."

"I know." Valentina's voice sounded foreign to her own ears. "I even understand why he did it. It was... efficient."

She dried her face and could hardly look in the mirror, not wanting to see herself.

"You're still yourself," Vyxara said firmly. "Still the smart, dangerous, ambitious woman I adore. This doesn't change that. He taught you a cruel lesson, but an important one. Before it was easy to be just swept away by him. Now you will be sure to always be aware of your position. Of who you are."

"I don't know about that", whispered Valentina. "What am I?"

"You are a woman who makes her own decisions," Vyxara replied. "You have chosen to be his mistress. You will choose to return to Bridgewater and continue your education. And if you return to him next summer, that will be your choice as well."

Valentina nodded slowly. She went back to the bed and pulled the silken blanket over her. The tears were still coming, but they were calmer now. Almost cleansing.

"Go to sleep now," Vyxara murmured soothingly. "The world will look different tomorrow. Not better, perhaps, but clearer. You will never forget this night – neither the humiliation nor the pleasure. Both will leave their mark on you. But you won't feel any shame. That's not our style, do you hear me, Valentina?"

Valentina closed her eyes. The duke's scent still lingered in her sheets and would stay with her all night. Like a silent reminder of who she belonged to.

And as she slipped into a restless sleep, she thought of Lorenzo. Of his gentle eyes, his restrained words at the dance. Of a future that would never be. Tomorrow she would be strong. Would put back on the mask the court expected of her. But for this one night, she allowed herself to mourn – for Lorenzo, for her innocence, for all the dreams that were never allowed to come true.

"Dream sweetly, little Weaver," Vyxara whispered inside her. "Dream of all that you will yet achieve. Of freedom. Of the power that will one day be yours. But keep rigorously account of the price you pay for it."

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