Liora stormed down the hallway, the sounds of the party fading behind her. Music still echoed faintly from the ballroom, but it no longer felt like it belonged to her. Her slippers thudded on the polished marble, each step fueled by frustration. Her heart pounded in her chest—not because of the dance, not because of the crowd—but because of him.
Derick.
His touch had been warm. His eyes… deeper than any storm. And for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. She felt it. The electricity in the air, the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.
But then, he pulled away.
Like she had burned him.
"Ugh!" Liora groaned, reaching for a decorative pillow on the side and smacking it with as much force as she could muster. It flew across the room and landed with a soft plop.
From behind the corridor wall, someone stifled a laugh.
"Who's there?" she snapped, still half fuming, half embarrassed.
A familiar head peeked around the corner. "Whoa. Did that pillow offend you, my lady?"
Liora rolled her eyes. "Rosette."
The young maid stepped into view, balancing a silver tray stacked with tiny, frosted cakes and candied petals—clearly stolen from the dessert table.
"I come bearing peace offerings," Rosette said with a grin, setting the tray down on a nearby bench. "You look like you need sugar. And maybe a hug."
Liora plopped down beside her with a dramatic sigh. "He's so frustrating!"
"Let me guess... Lord Broody?"
Liora covered her face with her hands. "Don't call him that!"
Rosette tilted her head with a mischievous smile. "But it suits him, doesn't it? Tall, dark, mysterious. You know he's the only one who doesn't dance at these events unless dragged?"
Liora didn't respond. Her mind drifted back to the dance—how his hand had rested gently on her back, how her heart had fluttered with every step. And then how cold she'd felt when he suddenly backed away.
"I thought…" she hesitated, voice softer now. "I thought there was something there."
Rosette offered her a cake. "Almost something is still something."
In the Garden…
Derick stood under the shadow of an old cedar tree, away from the mansion's bright lights and laughing guests. The garden stretched endlessly, its paths winding between trimmed hedges and moonlit fountains. But none of it reached him. Not really.
He was still lost in that moment. That dance. That almost kiss.
"What am I doing…" he whispered to himself, staring at his gloved hand as if it had betrayed him.
Liora.
She had looked so beautiful, radiant in the soft golden light. And for just a second, he'd let himself forget. Forget why he was here. Forget what he'd sworn to do.
His hand trembled slightly.
If I let myself fall for her again… if I allow this warmth in my chest to grow…
He clenched his fist. Then I lose. I won't be able to go through with it. I'll hesitate. And if I hesitate… they'll destroy her again.
Just then, the soft crunch of footsteps on gravel interrupted his thoughts.
"Enjoying the trees, Lord Derick?"
Seraphina's voice slithered into the air like smoke.
He didn't answer.
She stood a few feet behind him, her gown flowing like liquid midnight. Her fan flicked open, hiding a smile that never reached her cold, calculating eyes.
"You know," she began, walking around him slowly, "you've always been fascinating to me. A quiet little knight hiding a storm behind those eyes."
Still, he said nothing.
She let the silence hang for a moment before tilting her head. "You care for her, don't you?"
His jaw tensed.
Seraphina's smile widened. "You wear it on your face. Like a fool in love. It's cute."
"She's not your concern," he said at last, voice low and sharp.
"Oh, but everything in this mansion is my concern," she said. "Especially sweet little Liora. So fragile. So… easy to break."
He turned to her fully now, his eyes like twin storms. "Stay away from her."
Seraphina fluttered her fan. "Protective. Chivalrous. But misplaced. You forget your place, Lord Derick. Your family may have land and titles, but at the end of the day, you're still under the Duke's heel."
"I haven't forgotten," he said bitterly. "But I'll make sure you regret thinking you can harm her."
She chuckled. "So dramatic. I wonder if you'll still talk this big when you're the one on trial."
He blinked. "What?"
"Oh nothing," she said innocently. "Just a thought. After all, accidents happen. People trip, reputations fall, and girls like Liora… they tend to get hurt when they play in games too big for them."
With that, she turned and strolled off into the night, her laughter echoing behind her.
Back inside…
Rosette leaned against the wall while Liora paced the room.
"What do I do?" Liora asked, chewing her bottom lip.
"About Derick?" Rosette asked.
Liora nodded. "I keep feeling like… like we knew each other before. I know it's silly, but when he looks at me, it's like he's remembering something I've forgotten."
Rosette's smile faded slightly. "You don't think it's—like fate, do you?"
Liora looked up, surprised. "Fate?"
"Yeah. Like… reincarnated lovers or something dramatic like that."
Liora chuckled. "That only happens in novels."
But even as she said it, something about the idea clung to her thoughts.
Because in her dreams… in the quietest moments… she had seen things. Flashes of pain. A garden soaked in blood. A kiss on dying lips.
She had chalked it up to fantasy. Nightmares.
But now?
Now she wasn't so sure