CHAPTER 105: COMPLETED [1]

Tap! Tap!

The sound of footsteps echoed inside empty hall as Alaric made his way to the guest wing.

The corridor here was narrower, more intimate, dark wood panels instead of stone, paintings of long-dead Rithvale ancestors watching from gilded frames.

The guest chambers were at the far end. Not the grandest rooms, those were reserved for higher nobility, but respectable enough.

Carved oak door with brass fixtures.

Alaric pushed the door open without knocking.

And when he entered.

He saw Selene sitting in one of the high-backed chairs near the window, a leather-bound book resting in her lap. She’d changed out of her formal gown into something simpler, a dark green robe.

The room had a four-poster bed with heavy curtains, writing desk by the window, wardrobe that probably cost more than most people’s houses.

Everything in deep blues and golds.

"Came back from your little exploration?"

She set the book aside and studied him with those calculating eyes.

He rolled his shoulders, already working at the clasps of his doublet.

"Yeah." He tossed it over the back of another chair. "Seems so."

"Productive conversation with our host?"

"Illuminating."

"Mm." She picked up a wine glass from the side table and took a sip.

"He threatened you, I assume."

Not a question.

Alaric dropped into the chair across from her, already tired of standing, tired of talking, tired of the whole damn evening.

"More or less."

She let out a small chuckle, not quite warm. Just amused.

"So, what are you going to do about it now?"

Her eyes gleamed, waiting, watching for his reaction.

Alaric sank deeper into the chair, leather creaking under his weight.

A long sigh escaped his lips.

"Why didn’t you just told me earlier?" His head tilted back, staring at the ceiling. "And why the hell did you arrange this in the first place?"

Which made her lips curled into smirk.

"Oh, is that even a question, my dear?"

She took the last sip of wine, savoring it, then set the glass aside with deliberate care.

"Do you have any idea how many young men would kill just to dance with her at a gathering? Let alone..." She gestured vaguely at the room, at the whole situation. "This."

"That’s not an answer."

"Isn’t it?"

She leaned back, fingers steepled. The way the light caught her face made her look younger for a moment. Then older. Then just unreadable.

"Verelia Rithvale. The ice princess. The daughter of one of the most powerful Dukes in the kingdom." She tilted her head. "And now she’s yours. Officially. Publicly."

"She’s not ’mine.’ She’s—"

"Engaged to you. Which in other words is the same thing." Her smile sharpened. "Whether either of you likes it or not."

Alaric rubbed his face, suddenly feeling every hour of this endless day.

"You could have at least warned me."

"Would you have come if I had?"

Silence. They both knew the answer to that.

"Besides," she continued, reaching for the wine bottle to refill her glass, "seeing your face when he announced it was rather priceless. I don’t think I’ve seen you genuinely surprised in... well, ever. Anyways, make sure that girl falls for you."

"And why would I do that?"

"She’s your fiancée, do you really need any other reason."

He sighed.

"How did he even agree to this?"

And then stood up, moving toward the bed. He bent to unlace his boots, fingers working the leather ties loose.

"Well, when my dear nephew is this capable and charming, how can a caring father say no?"

He pulled off the first boot, then paused, looking at her over his shoulder.

"Capable and charming?" He turned fully, leaning back against the bedpost.

"Careful, my dear Aunt. Keep talking like that and I might start thinking you actually like me."

She laughed, but he was already moving closer.

"Tell me," he said, voice dropping lower.

"Was it my capability you were admiring when you watched me during that duel? Or my... charm?"

"Don’t be ridiculous—"

"Because you were watching." He stopped just close enough that she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. "Rather intently, if I recall."

Her fingers tightened on the armrest. "You were representing our house. Of course I watched."

"Mmm." He reached past her for the wine bottle, deliberately close, his arm brushing hers.

"And when you chose that dress tonight, was that for the house too?"

She blinked. Once.

"Or maybe," he continued, pouring wine into a fresh glass with studied casualness, "you just wanted to remind everyone that the most beautiful woman at that feast wasn’t the birthday girl."

"Alaric—"

"You succeeded, by the way." He took a sip of wine, eyes never leaving hers. "Even the I noticed. Kept glancing your way during dinner."

A faint color rose in her cheeks. "That’s... you’re being—"

"Honest?" He set the glass down, leaned in just slightly. "You should try it sometime. For instance, you could honestly tell me why your pulse is racing right now."

Her hand moved involuntarily toward her throat, then stopped. Her eyes narrowed.

"You’re playing a dangerous game."

"Am I?" His smile was all mischief now. "Here I thought I was just having a pleasant conversation with my beloved aunt."

Her lips parted slightly, maybe to respond. But he straightened, though that infuriating smile still in lingered on his lips.

"But you’re right, it’s been a long day." He stretched. "I should let you get your rest. Wouldn’t want those lovely eyes looking tired tomorrow."

She stared at him, clearly off-balance. "You—"

"Goodnight, dear aunt." He moved toward the door, pausing at the threshold. "Sweet dreams."

He glanced back once, caught her still frozen in her chair, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with something between fury and... something else.

"Oh, and Selene?" He used her name without the title, deliberately. "That perfume you’re wearing? Jasmine and something else... vanilla? It suits you."

Then he was gone, door clicking shut behind him, leaving her alone.

[Quest progress: 92%]

He smiled and began moving.

"Eh."

And halted after a walking a few steps.

"But that was my room."

********

The morning sun casted long shadows across the Rithvale estate as servants bustled, loading carriages and preparing for the guests.

The grand banquet had ended, and nobility were departing in waves.

Meanwhile in the breakfast room, a more intimate gathering sat around a polished long table.

Duke Rithvale occupied the head seat, his morning composure as commanding as his evening presence. Duchess Evangeline sat to his right, her blue hair pinned in a simple but elegant style. Verelia, looking perfectly like her younger version, cut her eggs with mechanical precision.

Across from them, Selene maintained her usual poise, and Alaric ate his own food.

"The engagement announcement seems to have been well-received," the Duke said, setting down his coffee cup. "Lord Pemberton made several complimentary remarks before his departure."

"As did Lady Thornfield," the Duchess added, though her tone suggested she found the woman’s opinions less than valuable.

Verelia’s fork paused midway to her mouth. "I trust there were no... complications from the evening’s other events?"

The delicate way she phrased it spoke volumes. News of the Duskwood incident had clearly reached the family table.

"Young lords will be young lords," the Duke replied dismissively. "Though I expect such behavior will be corrected next time."

"Yes, and I heard Phoenix Academy’s entrance exams are scheduling quite early this year." Duchess Evangeline said, her gaze moving to her daughter. "I do hope you’re prepared, dear. You will be attending this year."

"Of course, Mother."

"How fortuitous," Selene said smoothly. "My daughter and nephew will be attending as well." She then glanced at Alaric with that calculating smile. "Won’t you, dear?"

Alaric paused, his coffee cup halfway to his lips. This was the first he’d heard of it, though he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. Selene rarely left anything to chance.

"Apparently so," he replied.

The Duke leaned back in his chair. "Excellent. You can look after each other."

Something in his tone suggested this was as much warning as blessing.

After breakfast concluded with the usual pleasantries about future correspondence and mutual benefit, Selene rose gracefully.

"We should take our leave," she announced. "The road back to our estate is long, and I prefer to travel during daylight hours."

Within the hour, their carriage set waiting in the circular drive, horses pawing the gravel. Servants loaded the last of their belongings while Alaric and Selene stood beside the ornate vehicle.

Duchess Evangeline and Verelia emerged from the manor to see them off, their formal gowns replaced by simpler day dresses that somehow made them look more approachable.

"Thank you for your hospitality," Selene said, offering a curtsy. "The evening was... memorable."

"Indeed," the Duchess replied, her smile cold. "I trust the journey to home will be pleasant."

Alaric stepped forward, offering his own bow to the Duchess first, before turning to Verelia.

"My lady," he said formally. Then, with deliberate slowness, he took her hand and brought it to his lips.

The kiss lingered just a heartbeat longer, his eyes meeting hers over their joined hands.

The Duchess’s expression shifted from cold politeness to barely controlled fury, her blue eyes flashing like winter lightning.

Beside him, Selene’s gloved hands clenched into fists.

Verelia herself showed no reaction beyond a slight nod of her head. "Safe travels, Lord Glimor."

Her voice was perfectly neutral, giving away nothing.

"Until we meet again," Alaric replied, releasing her hand.

Then they moved and ascended the carriage, door closing behind them with a soft thud, and soon they were rolling down the drive, the Rithvale manor shrinking behind them.

Inside the velvet-lined interior, Selene sat across from him, her emerald eyes fixed on his face with uncomfortable intensity.

"I told you," she said quietly, "Not to do that to any woman."

Alaric stretched his legs out, getting comfortable against the velvet cushions.

"Do what?"

"You know exactly what."

"Ah." He smiled. "But she’s my fiancée now. Isn’t hand-kissing expected?"

"Not like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you were—" She stopped herself, jaw tight.

"Like I was claiming something?" He turned from the window to meet her eyes directly.

"Isn’t that what you wanted? Me to play the devoted fiancé?"

"I wanted you to be subtle."

"When have I ever been subtle?"

She had no answer for that, just gave him a quick look and turned her head away.

They rode in silence for a moment, wheels crunching over gravel.