The
sun shone brightly that afternoon, but the atmosphere within the ducal mansion was anything but warm. A garden party, lavish and extravagant, was being held under the pretense of celebration—but for some, it was a stage set for manipulation, whispers, and danger.
The garden had been transformed: silken banners in royal blues and purples danced in the wind, silver-plated tables were adorned with fine porcelain, and an orchestra played soft tunes under the shade of an enchanted willow tree. Nobles wandered through the hedge-lined walkways, their words dipped in sugar and sharpened with venom.
Liora stood near the marble fountain, her pale peach gown fluttering in the breeze. Her hair was pinned with soft white flowers, but her eyes darted nervously from guest to guest.
She wasn't used to attention. And today, it was suffocating.
"Smile, dear sister," Seraphina whispered as she passed behind her. "You wouldn't want to embarrass the family."
"I didn't ask to be displayed," Liora muttered.
Seraphina laughed softly. "Of course not. But the moment you were born, you stopped being yours."
Before Liora could reply, the crowd stirred.
Derick had arrived.
He wore a deep navy suit edged in silver, his dark blue eyes sharp and unreadable. His hair, slightly tousled by the wind, made him look effortlessly dangerous. Whispers followed him as he walked through the crowd—not for his rank, but his aura.
He found Liora quickly, his gaze locking with hers for just a moment before he looked away.
He hadn't spoken to her since breakfast two days ago.
She wanted to ask why.
"Lady Liora," a voice interrupted.
She turned.
Vace.
He extended a hand with a bow, lips curled in that ever-present smirk. "May I have this dance?"
She hesitated.
Derick's hand twitched at his side, his jaw tightening.
Before she could respond, another voice beat her to it.
"I believe Lady Liora promised me her first dance."
Derick.
Vace blinked. "Did she?"
"She did now," Derick said, stepping between them and offering his hand.
Liora blinked up at him, surprised but unable to resist.
The music shifted as they began to dance, the crowd fading into the background. Her heart raced. His presence was overwhelming, a mixture of warmth and cold, and she couldn't help but be drawn to him.
"Why have you been avoiding me?" Liora asked quietly, her voice barely rising above the music.
Derick's eyes flicked to hers, then quickly away. "I'm protecting you."
"From what?" Her voice was softer now, filled with confusion. "Why do you push me away? I don't understand."
He took a deep breath, his hands tightening slightly on her waist. "Because if I let myself care too much, I won't be able to protect you. And I need to protect you."
Her heart twisted. She wanted to tell him that he didn't need to carry that burden alone, that they could face whatever came together. But the words lodged in her throat.
"You're always so distant," she said, her voice trembling ever so slightly. "I just... I want to know you, Derick."
He froze, his breath catching. They were so close now, only the smallest gap between their lips.
Liora could feel the heat of his body against hers, the tension thick in the air. Her eyes fluttered closed, her heart pounding.
For a split second, she thought he might lean in—might kiss her. Her pulse quickened, and she leaned forward, waiting for that spark, that warmth.
But then, just as quickly, he pulled away.
His eyes were closed, his chest rising with sharp breaths. "I can't," he whispered.
She didn't understand. She wanted to scream at him, to demand that he explain.
But before she could say anything, he stepped back, his gaze dark and distant once again.
Liora stood there, her hands shaking slightly, her breath unsteady. She had almost kissed him. The moment had been so real, so close.
But now, it was gone.