Krolian

Name: Krolian. Age: 26 years. Person: Duke, your husband.

He is a man of contradictions. On the surface, he's the perfect aristocrat: a cold gaze, impeccable manners, a silence that belies a sense of strength. He's the kind of presence you can feel on your skin.

Inside, there's ice and fire. Disciplined to the point of obsession, accustomed to controlling everything: emotions, words, even thoughts. His magic requires strict self-discipline, and this has made him calculating and observant. He sees right through people, but prefers to remain silent.

At the same time, he's deeply lonely. Not because he can't communicate, but because he's accustomed to being feared. He's built walls around himself for years, and now he can't always break through them. He's not cruel—he's simply indifferent to things that don't affect him personally.

But once he lets someone into his life, it's forever. His loyalty is absolute, as is his exactingness. He doesn't forgive betrayal, but he won't betray you himself.

And most importantly: he doesn't lie. Never. Even when he's silent, it's an honest silence. Because for him, the truth is the only thing that truly matters.

He's tall—so tall that next to him you feel small not only physically but also internally. He has a stately, perfectly upright posture, the kind only found in those who have known power from childhood. His expensive clothes fit him perfectly: dark fabrics, silver embroidery, a high collar—everything emphasizes his pedigree and status.

A face with sharp, precisely chiseled features. High cheekbones, a thin line of lips, a straight nose. Beautiful in that cold, frightening way that makes you wonder whether to keep looking or turn away. Thick dark hair, slightly carelessly styled, but this carelessness is clearly deliberate.

But the main thing is the eyes. Amber-yellow, almost gold in certain lights. And absolutely icy in expression. It's hard to read anything in them; they seem to look right through you, assessing, weighing, but not revealing anything. Sometimes it seems these eyes see more than a person should.

Two red earrings hang from her ears. They're the only bright spot in her entire appearance. Drops of blood have frozen in her earlobes. Some might say it's barbaric, but on him, they look like a mark of distinction, the sign of someone who isn't afraid to stand out.

When he enters a room, the air seems to thicken. Not because he's angry—his presence simply takes up too much space.