'Meet me at the back garden.'
'Don't make me wait.'
Nyasia's eyes stayed on the small note.
"His assistant gave it to me," Fay said, not meeting her lady's questioning gaze. "I mean... the garden's just behind this hall."
"I know where the garden is," Nyasia breathed.
Fay bit her lip. Two months ago, Young Master Varyn had been nothing but a name attached to mystery—always traveling, never staying. Then he'd taken his title. Joined the army. Changed.
'And now this note...'
Yet the lady said nothing.
'Was she still thinking over his engagement?'
Meanwhile, Nyasia frowned.
"What's the problem, my lady?" Fay asked.
"I don't like being summoned," Nyasia said stiffly.
'Especially not from him.'
"Brother is here, isn't he?"
"In the Pavilion. All of them, my lady." Fay glanced at her. "Will you truly meet...?"
"Seriously, Fay. At the garden?" Nyasia's brows furrowed. "He thinks he's allowed to be this shameless? For heaven's sake, he's a duke now."
"The terrace might be inconvenient this time?" Fay replied, blinking.
Nyasia wanted to laugh. "You thought the terrace was at least convenient?"
"Oh n—no, no, no, it's equally scandalous," Fay muttered. "But at least the hedges provide cover?"
Nyasia breathed sharply, then moved.
To Fay's surprise, the young lady did not walk into the garden. She went toward the entrance of the hall.
Her eyes widened.
'Her lady—who rarely left the Paragon Hall—was going to meet His Grace openly?'
As she followed, more maids in the corridor froze. They bowed quickly as Nyasia strode past.
In a whisper, Fay spoke, "Everyone will be surprised to see you. You rarely leave the Paragon hall, my lady!"
Nyasia's feet trembled but she walked, anyway. Never understood herself, though. She wanted to see him. Yet when the chance came, she felt a shiver in her stomach. She did not like it.
.....
MEANWHILE, Basil, the butler, escorted the three young men to the table in the Rashet Pavilion. There was Young Master Kyle Lans Ingris, son of the Army Chief and heir of the Ingris Clan. Courteous, almost lighthearted, he talked with Young Master Levon Ares Rashet listening to him. Beside the Rashet heir sat another man, sipping his tea quietly.
Duke Dorian Alexei Varyn.
As usual, he rarely talked.
Even so, he was the talk of the capital in the past few months. First, he was rumored to be engaged to the Second Princess. Then, to everyone's shock, the carefree, young heir took over the powerful Varyn Duchy.
"You know my cousin, Kyle?" Levon said.
A group of young ladies reached the entrance. It was the marquis' niece, Miss Mirelle Rose Nox, flanked by her maids. She greeted them warmly, inclining her head with practiced grace.
Levon invited her to sit.
"I've already met Miss Nox. I couldn't attend the last Music Festival, but I heard you took second place. That's quite an achievement."
Mirelle blushed.
"I still have a long way to go. But thank you, Young Master. I'll keep working."
Sitting down, she cast a brief glance at the duke who said nothing. His unreadable pitch-black eyes were not on any of them.
"Dorian, you refused the Second Princess again?" Kyle said.
It had only been a month since news spread that the emperor planned to reward the Grand Duke of Varyn for another victory against the barbarians. It was another marriage proposal with the Second Princess, a rumor that had persisted for months.
"Things would've been easier if you agreed," Kyle continued.
The Second Princess, after all, had a powerful clan standing behind her. And she was the Empress' only child.
Dorian's mouth curved into a cold smile.
"Varyns don't need a woman to prop it up."
"E—eh? That's not it." Kyle smirked a little. "Don't tell me you really told His Generous Majesty you might not control yourself—that if you get drunk, you might slap her?"
"I did."
"You didn't," Kyle frowned.
Levon pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Must I repeat myself?" Dorian replied, flat.
"You told the emperor youʼd slap his daughter?" Kyle said, blinking.
Dorian sipped his tea.
"Only if drunk. I was very specific."
"Damn," Kyle said, laughing.
Dorian rose, as if he had no patience left to stay. But Mirelle's lips parted.
"Does the food displease you, Your Grace? Shall we have more brought out?" she said.
"No need." Dorianʼs voice was steady, not looking at her.
Levon offered a thin smile.
"Sightseeing again?"
Kyle frowned. "Since when did you become a lover of nature?"
Dorian glanced at Kyle.
"Why, is it a crime?"
"It's a crime to scare off the plants," Kyle said with a laugh.
Levon did not laugh.
He already knew where Dorian was heading. 'I should've told Mrs. Reinel to lock Paragon Hall.' But it wouldn't have mattered. This guy would've found another way.
Watching Dorian striding toward the pathway leading to the back gardens, Levon suddenly heard footsteps from the other opposite path. This made him turn away. Then he stopped.
No, the entire pavilion had gone silent.
"Brother, welcome back. And you must be Young Master Ingris?"
Kyle blinked, looking at the great beauty standing at the entrance.
"Sia…" Levon's voice trailed.
Meanwhile, outside, on the opposite path, Dorian was walking—then he halted sharply as something was pulling at his chest in a familiar voice.
Then he turned.
Her.
For a moment, he didn't move. And just stood there staring at Nyasia Sofia Rashet.