The Calderon estate was just as Derick remembered it.
A glittering display of wealth, arrogance, and power.
Golden gates creaked open to reveal ivory towers, marble fountains, and rose gardens that stretched for miles. Everything screamed extravagance. But to Derick, it all reeked of rot.
Because beneath the beauty was betrayal.
He stepped out of the carriage behind his father, who was already bowing stiffly toward a waiting butler. The other nobles lined up around the grand circular courtyard, all dressed in their finest. Peacocks.
Derick's eyes swept across the estate.
This is where it happened.Where they smiled at him, fed him lies…Where Liora bled out in his arms.
His chest tightened.
Not yet. Don't lose it now.
"Stand straight," his father snapped quietly. "We're being watched."
Of course they were. This wasn't just a conference. It was a show.
Derick kept his head low, silently following Gregory through the grand archway.
The ballroom was filled with nobles from the western provinces, all murmuring about trade routes and border tensions. Derick wasn't listening. He didn't care about any of that.
He was listening for a voice.
Her voice.
He felt it before he saw her.
Like a gust of wind through a suffocating room.
Then—
Laughter.
Soft. Light. Familiar.
He turned.
There she was.
Standing beneath the high arch, hands folded neatly in front of her, her long silver hair braided with soft lavender ribbons. She wore a sky-blue dress with subtle embroidery of snowflakes along the hem.
Liora Calderon.
Alive.
His heart skipped, then raced, then nearly collapsed.
She was speaking to a servant, her expression gentle, her voice patient. Not a trace of the arrogance most nobles wore like perfume.
She didn't see him. Not yet.
He stepped back, hiding behind a pillar, hands shaking.
Gods…
Tears burned behind his eyes. He blinked hard.
"You're here," he whispered. "You're really here."
A moment later, another voice cut through the air.
Sharp. Controlling.
"Liora."
Derick flinched.
Seraphina.
Descending the stairs like a queen in her court, draped in dark crimson silk, her gold eyes scanning the room like a hawk.
Behind her stood a tall man with black hair slicked back, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. His hand hovered too casually near the hilt of his sword.
Vance.
Derick's blood boiled.
The traitor. The killer.
He watched as Vance placed his hand possessively on Seraphina's waist, and she leaned into it, smirking.
They look like the perfect couple.
Until you remember what they did.
Seraphina said something to Liora—something sharp. Derick couldn't hear it, but he saw Liora's smile falter.
Don't cry, he willed her silently. Don't let her see it hurt you.
Liora bowed her head and quietly walked away.
Derick wanted to run to her. To pull her aside and tell her everything—who he was, what was coming, how much he missed her.
But it wasn't time.
The rest of the day passed like a blur.
He shook hands with nobles, answered polite questions, kept his face neutral.
But inside?
He was unraveling.
After dinner, while his father got swept into some political debate, Derick slipped out of the hall.
He wandered the halls of the Calderon estate like a ghost retracing the path of his death.
And then…
He found it.
The garden.
Not the grand rose garden everyone flaunted to visitors—but the smaller one tucked behind the west wing. Hidden. Quiet.
Where they first met.
And there she was again.
Sitting under the same cherry blossom tree. Sketching.
Just like before.
Derick's breath caught.
Her fingers moved gently over the page, brushing charcoal across parchment. Her eyes were focused. Calm. A soft breeze lifted strands of silver hair from her face.
She's real. She's here. I can save her.
He stepped forward, quietly.
She turned.
Their eyes met.
And for a moment, the world disappeared.
She blinked, eyes searching his face.
Then she smiled.
"Lost?"
He froze.
Those same words. The same moment.
But this time, he spoke.
"No," he said. "Not this time."
She tilted her head. "Do I know you?"
He hesitated. "Not yet."
She laughed softly. "That's a strange answer."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "But I'd like you to."
She smiled again, but there was a trace of sadness behind her eyes.
"I don't get many visitors here. Everyone prefers the other gardens."
"Then they're missing out."
She looked down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "You talk like a poet."
No, he thought. Just a man who watched you die.
"I'm Derick Thorne," he said finally.
Her eyes widened slightly. "The Marquis' son?"
He nodded.
She didn't seem scared or annoyed like most nobles would be meeting someone from a "lesser house."
"I'm Liora," she said.
"I know."
She blinked.
"I mean… I've heard of you."
Too much. Not enough.
"I hope it was good things," she teased.
"The best."
She looked down again, sketching quietly. "Most people don't talk to me like this."
He sat beside her on the grass.
"I'm not most people."
She looked at him again.
And for the first time…He saw it.The flicker of curiosity. The first spark.All over again.
Back in his quarters that night, Derick sat at his desk, still trembling from the encounter.
He had done it.
He had seen her again. Spoke to her. And this time…
He wouldn't be too late.
He stared at the page in his leather-bound journal.
Three names sat at the top.
Seraphina CalderonVance ElrosGregory Thorne
Underneath, a fourth name.
Liora Calderon.
Beside hers, he wrote a single word:
Protect.