CHAPTER 92: CHAPTER NINETY TWO

The room was still spinning for Carcel. His jaw throbbed with a dull, heavy rhythm that matched the beating of his heart. He tasted copper and salt—blood and sweat. He stood swaying slightly, using the bedpost to keep himself upright, but his eyes remained locked on Rowan.

He had said the words. I will marry her.

Now, he had to make them stick.

He took a breath, wincing as his ribs protested. He looked at his best friend, the man whose knuckles were currently stained with his blood.

"That way," Carcel said, his voice raspy but firm, "there is no need to worry about her honor. Or the family reputation."

He gestured vaguely with a trembling hand toward the disheveled room—the unmade bed, the slightly torn nightgown, the incriminating silence.

"The scandal dies here," Carcel continued. "If she agrees to marry me... then everything that happened tonight... everything that happened before... it becomes a courtship. It becomes... acceptable."

He looked at Rowan, his gaze steady despite the swelling around his left eye.

"That way, Rowan, you won’t have any objections, right? You wanted a match. You wanted her safe. I am offering myself."

Rowan stared at him. The rage was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but it was warring with confusion. He wiped his bloody hand on his trousers, a jerky, nervous movement.

"You said you had no intention of marrying," Rowan said, his voice low and accusing. He remembered the past. He remembered the suicide, the vow Carcel had made. "You told me that marriage was a cage. That you would never inflict your past on a woman."

Carcel swallowed hard. The memory of his fears was still there, but it was overshadowed by a newer, stronger fear: losing Ines.

"Not anymore," Carcel spoke. The words were simple, but they carried the weight of a mountain. "I will marry Ines."

Rowan narrowed his eyes. He stepped closer, invading Carcel’s personal space, searching his face for a lie, for a trick.

"Are you serious?" Rowan asked.

"Yes," Carcel replied instantly. He looked at Ines, who was still standing, looking at them like a porcelain doll that had been dropped and shattered. "As long as Ines agrees. I will not force her."

Ines stood frozen. Her knees were sore from the hard wood floor, but she couldn’t feel them. She couldn’t feel anything except a cold, swirling confusion.

She looked at the two men talking in front of her. They were discussing her life, her future, as if she weren’t even there.

What is all this about? she thought to herself, her mind reeling.

Me? Marrying Carcel?

It didn’t make sense. The timeline was broken in her head.

He just told me... she thought, her mind flashing back to the hug near the wardrobe, mere minutes ago. He just told me he wanted to stop. He said we should stop meeting like this. He said he was leaving the house tomorrow.

Her heart twisted.

I thought he meant he was tired of me. I thought he meant he didn’t want to marry anyone, ever. That he just wanted to escape the entanglement.

She looked at Carcel’s battered face.

But why... why is he saying he will marry me now? Is it just guilt? Is it just because he was caught? Is he sacrificing himself to save me from Rowan’s anger? To save me from society?

She didn’t want his pity. She didn’t want a marriage born out of a bloody nose and a scandal.

Rowan turned his gaze to Ines. He saw her hesitation. He saw the confusion in her eyes. And the Duke in him, the patriarch, the protector, took over.

"Ines won’t refuse," Rowan spoke, his voice hard and final.

He looked back at Carcel. The friendship was there, somewhere deep down, but right now, it was buried under layers of betrayal and duty.

"I can’t let her live with her honor tarnished as a lady," Rowan said, his voice rising. "Whatever your reasons, Carcel, you have compromised her. You have ruined her for anyone else. If this gets out... she is finished."

Rowan took a step back, creating a formal distance between himself and Carcel. He straightened his spine.

"If you later change your mind," Rowan said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "and don’t marry her... if you leave her at the altar, or if you try to back out of this agreement once my anger has cooled..."

Rowan looked at his own hands, then back at Carcel.

"I have no choice but to duel with you," Rowan declared. "For her honor."

The word hung in the air. Duel.

It wasn’t a metaphor. It wasn’t a figure of speech. In their world, it was a promise of violence. It meant pistols at dawn. It meant one of them wouldn’t walk away.

Ines’s eyes widened in fear. The air left her lungs.

"A... a duel?" she whispered.

She looked at Rowan. He meant it. He would kill Carcel. Or Carcel would kill him.

No, she thought to herself, a scream building in her throat. No. If they duel, one of them might die.

My brother. Or the man I love.

I cannot let that happen. I cannot be the reason for a funeral.

She looked at Carcel. He didn’t flinch at the threat. He just nodded, accepting the terms. He was willing to die for this. Or marry for this.

Rowan saw the agreement in Carcel’s eyes. It was enough. For now.

He needed to leave. He needed to think. He needed to process the image of his sister in his best friend’s bedroom.

Rowan turned and walked toward the door. His steps were heavy, exhausted.

"Since it has been decided," Rowan said, not looking back, "I’ll make preparations."

He reached the door. He paused for a second, his hand on the knob, as if he wanted to say something else. But he didn’t. He stepped out into the hallway.

The door closed shut with a solid, final thud.

The silence rushed back into the room, but it was different now. It was heavier.

Ines didn’t wait. The moment the latch clicked, she moved.

She turned, her legs shaking, her silk nightgown rustling around her. She didn’t care about the marriage. She didn’t care about the duel. She cared about the blood on his face.

She ran to Carcel.

He was still leaning against the bedpost, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. He looked like he might collapse.

"Carcel!" she cried softly.

She reached him and grabbed his arm, her hands fluttering up to his face. She touched his bruised cheek, her fingers trembling.

"Carcel," she whispered, tears filling her eyes again. "Are you alright?"