SONG RECOMMENDATIONS: EXPERIENCE BY LUDOVICO EINAUDI.
The moon hung high, casting a cold, silver glow over the night as Connor dropped silently outside the balcony. His breath barely disturbed the stillness as he peered through the window. A lone figure lay on the bed, the rise and fall of their chest steady in the quiet.
He slipped into the room, his footsteps noiseless on the floor as he approached the bed. Neither Silas nor Lucinda were here. He pulled back the blanket, revealing Theodore's small form curled in on itself. A tenderness flashed through Connor's eyes as he gently scooped the boy into his arms. Theodore stirred, blinking sleepily as he mumbled, "Uncle Connor?…" His brow furrowed in drowsy confusion, but Connor pressed a firm finger to his lips. The boy, trusting, nodded off once more into the peaceful oblivion of sleep.
Connor moved quickly, his heart steady but his urgency sharpening with each step. He glided through the halls, slipping out into the night, unnoticed as shadows cloaked his retreat. The door to the carriage swung open with a soft creak, and he placed Theodore on the plush cushions, tucking him in with a blanket. He lingered a moment, eyes scanning the grounds before slipping back into the mansion.
Inside, Lucinda emerged from the bathroom, her humming soft, her fingers working absently through her hair. Connor was upon her in an instant, his hand covering her mouth before she could react. She gasped, but he hushed her gently, his eyes darting toward the ticking clock that echoed loudly in the room, each chime drawing them closer to danger. He took her hand, pulling her toward the balcony with urgency burning in his every motion.
Time was slipping through his grasp. Silas could return any moment now. He glanced down the railing, his mind calculating every detail. This had to work; there was no room for failure.
"Connor, what's going on?" Lucinda's voice was laced with concern, but Connor shook his head, eyes ever-watchful. With swift, practiced ease, he scooped her into his arms, a hand gently covering her mouth as they descended the balconies, his movements precise, nearly soundless. Lucinda's eyes widened, her protests stifled, but Connor pressed on.
They landed gracefully, and he pulled her toward the carriage. Now free, Lucinda spoke in a low, insistent voice. "Connor, wait. What is going on?"
He opened the carriage door, the weight of his mission pressing down on him. "It's okay. I found a way out—" he began, his words rushing before she could speak. "You don't have to worry. Theodore is with us." He motioned toward the boy, asleep and unaware, before turning back to Lucinda.
Her baffled expression stirred something in him, and he hurried to reassure her. "It's alright. You're safe now. We'll go home—where we'll be safe from him. You don't have to rely on him anymore, Lucinda."
"Connor, it's not like that—" she said, stepping out of his arms, her voice gentle but firm.
"But what, Lucinda?" He paused, suspicion dawning in his eyes. His heart clenched as realization struck him. "Don't tell me… you've fallen for the scoundrel."
"That's not what I mean," she said softly, her tone calm but pleading. "It's a misunderstanding, Connor." She approached him cautiously, as if he were a wounded animal. "Silas didn't hurt us. He saved us."
Connor's expression darkened at the name, but he held his tongue, listening as her words cut through his anger.
"That day you were gone, we were attacked by assassins. Connor, I know you hate him, but the only person who would want me dead is Valerie."
Her words hit him like a blow, and his hand, once outstretched toward her, fell to his side. The truth seeped in, bitter and undeniable. His anger had blinded him. His lady had been in danger, and he hadn't been there. Of course, Magnus' and valarie would want revenge after she humiliated them in court. How had he missed that?
He turned, resting his forehead against the cool wood of the carriage, the weight of his failure settling in.
"Silas got to us," Lucinda continued, her voice steady but tinged with pain. "I was stabbed."
Connor's head snapped around, his eyes wide with horror. "Lucinda—" His voice cracked, trembling with remorse. "I'm so sorry… I didn't know—"
"It's alright, Connor. It wasn't your fault," she said softly, but her words only deepened the ache in his chest. His face flushed with shame. How could he have let this happen? He had failed her, and here he was, blaming the man who had saved her.
"…So we can't go back now, huh?" His voice was hollow as he stared up at the indifferent sky.
Lucinda shook her head. "It's too dangerous." Her voice was steady, but the truth weighed heavy between them. Connor glanced through the carriage window at Theodore, his breathing steady, and he nodded, resigned. "What now?" he asked, his voice quiet, seeking direction.
Lucinda's spine straightened, and her gaze hardened into steel.
"Now we strike back," she said, her voice filled with the kind of resolve that made Connor's chest swell with pride. She had always been a fighter, never one to back down. This was the Lucinda he knew, the tigress who commanded respect and loyalty.
"What's the next step?" he asked, his eyes shining with renewed determination. She stood before him, fierce and unyielding, her nightdress billowing like smoke in the moonlight.
"I go back," she said simply, her words igniting something deep within him. Purpose.
"Are you with me?" she asked, her eyes locking with his.
He chuckled, a warmth spreading through his chest. "Do you even have to ask, my lady? I swore to follow you everywhere. Regardless of the trials. I will always stand by you."
This moment transported him to that day. The day she chose him as her protector. To always be by her side.
He knelt before her, his heart full, as he looked up into her face. For a moment, the cold, stern features softened, and they were transported back to that fateful day, seven years ago, when he had sworn his devotion till his last breath.
Lucinda wrapped the blanket tightly around Theodore as she moved inside, her form silhouetted in the moonlight. Connor's jaw tightened. The thought of that despicable lord seeing his lady in such a vulnerable state every night sent a surge of resentment through him. Silas may have saved them, but trust was another matter entirely. His mind flashed back to that encounter in the forest.
"Nice chat?" A voice, low and laced with something unspoken, drifted from the shadows. Connor didn't need to turn to know it was Silas, leaning casually against a pillar, legs crossed, arms folded.
He stiffened but remained indifferent. As he moved to walk away, Silas's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Should I assume you harbor feelings for my fiancée?"
Connor froze. His voice was calm, controlled, as he responded, "Lord Silas, I believe Lucinda is a cold, unique beauty, her heart a reflection of her strength. I hold deep respect for her as my liege, not as an object of affection. My loyalty is to her safety and honor, not to my own desires."
Connor's jaw tightened, a grin curling at his lips despite the tension thickening the air. "I don't see a reason to question my actions, unless it's a reflection of your own insecurities." The words were laced with defiance, and he took satisfaction in knowing he had struck a nerve. Watching Silas, the Viscount's shoulders shook with a disbelieving chuckle, the silence that followed crackling with unspoken malice.
Then came the slow, purposeful steps toward him, the crisp metallic clicks echoing in the stillness. Each sound was sharp, clean, slicing through the air, and Connor's instincts screamed. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as a slow heat began to crawl up his spine. His eyes flicked toward the shadow closing in on him, pupils dilating with the primal awareness of danger.
Click. Click. Two precise flicks, followed by the chilling words, "For her sake, I pray so."
Silas's grin was wide, cold, his eyes gleaming as he studied Connor's face. The playful malice in his tone only heightened Connor's unease. "For your sake, you shall weep." Silas's finger trailed lightly down a lock of Connor's ginger hair, the heat from the flicked lighter inches away from igniting the soft curls.
Connor held himself still, every muscle tight as the heat licked dangerously close to his skin. Silas spun away suddenly, his steps light, almost joyful, as if he had delivered nothing more than a jest. A mocking hum left his lips, the sound dancing in the air like a child's careless tune. "For her beauty, they shall worship; for their desire, a painful tale~"
Connor's stomach dropped. A chill slithered down his spine as the reality of Silas's threat sank in. This was no mere banter. This was a promise wrapped in veiled amusement, one that Silas would carry out with ease.