Lyra was genuinely puzzled as she stared at the man before her. Dylan's confident smirk only deepened her confusion. Reflexively, she averted her gaze, her astonishment mingling with a sudden flush brought on by the intimate contact with this unknown yet strangely familiar man.
He did seem familiar—so much so that a sense of déjà vu washed over her. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't place him. His intent gaze bore into her as if he knew her—not just the Princess, but the real her. The feeling was disarming.
Seeing her confusion, Dylan took a step back, ensuring she could stand properly. With a small, almost theatrical flourish, he waved the polished shoe he had picked up in the air before bowing and carefully placing it in front of her.
"It is not wise to run without wearing your shoes, dear Princess," he remarked.
"...Thank you," Lyra murmured, slipping the shoe on while her maid, Delilah, placed its pair before her.
Dylan's grin widened. "Where are you off to in such a mighty hurry, Princess?"
Lyra straightened, her gaze firm as she replied, "I don't think that concerns you."
His informal tone irked her, but she chose to ignore it. After all, she had more pressing matters on her mind. With a blank expression, she turned and began walking away, her steps brisk. Delilah hurried after her, bowing respectfully to Dylan and his companion, Xavier, before following.
"She was… Her Highness, Lyra," Xavier muttered, his shock evident.
Dylan's lips curled upward in satisfaction. "I knew it... I've finally found you."
He strode off toward his quarters, his expression alight with purpose.
"But, Your Highness, I don't think she likes you very much," Xavier called after him.
Dylan stopped, his demeanor abruptly serious. "Xavier, go away."
Lyra rushed through the palace's private garden, her destination clear in her mind. She made her way to a hidden passage known only to the royal family, leading to a secret window where she was to meet Gunther, Delilah's cousin and her trusted informant.
"Where is he?" Lyra demanded, her breath still catching up with her.
Gunther's expression was grim. "His whereabouts are unknown. It seems he has disappeared."
Lyra clenched her fists. "I knew this was bound to happen. Have you checked on Raymond and the others? They were sent to follow and protect Dr. William. He's the only one who knows what happened to my father. I suspect poisoning, but I need proof."
"Forgive me, Your Highness, but I can't locate them either. They seem to have vanished as well."
"Did you search their hideout?"
Gunther nodded solemnly. "Yes, but there was no trace of them."
Lyra's mind raced. "Go to Jellal's local guild. Tell him I sent you and request his assistance. We need to know what Dr. William discovered."
"As you command, Your Highness." Gunther bowed and left swiftly, his determination mirroring her own.
Delilah's anxious voice broke through. "What now, Your Highness? Dr. William is the only one who can explain your father's illness, but he's gone..."
"He's not gone. I will find him. And I will uncover the truth about my father's condition," Lyra declared.
"Should we inform Her Highness Astrid?" Delilah asked hesitantly.
"Not yet. I don't want her to worry. I'll tell her once I have a cure in hand."
Delilah hesitated before adding, "About earlier… Did you recognize that man? The scholar?"
Lyra frowned. "No, but he does seem familiar. It's odd, though; I haven't met anyone outside the palace for over seven years."
Delilah's eyes sparkled mischievously. "Your Highness, could it be you're finally curious about a man?"
Lyra shot her a glare, playfully pinching her maid's cheek. "Let's go. We're already late for the party, and Astrid will have my head if we delay any longer."
The grand ballroom sparkled with opulence as Lyra entered through the back entrance. She scanned the room, her chest tightening at the sight of so many unfamiliar faces. This was Duchess Medea's party, after all, and none of her own supporters were present. She was invisible here, intentionally ignored.
Scoffing under her breath, she accepted a glass of juice from a waiter. A single sip told her it was strong, almost too strong.
"Are they planning to get drunk again tonight?" she muttered.
"Seems like it," a familiar voice answered. Lyra turned to see her sister, Astrid, standing beside her with a matching drink.
"Are you drinking that?" Lyra asked.
"No," Astrid replied with a smirk.
Lyra sighed in relief. "Thank God. By the way, where's the host? And who's the chief guest?"
Astrid's expression faltered. "The chief guest is… Dylan."
Lyra froze. "Who?"
"Dylan de Helios," Astrid admitted reluctantly.
"It's him?" Lyra's voice rose. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"He wanted it to be a surprise," Astrid said, avoiding her sister's piercing gaze.
Before Lyra could respond, the announcer's voice boomed through the hall. "Grand Prince Dylan de Helios!"
All eyes turned to the entrance as Dylan stepped in, his polished appearance commanding the room. His gaze locked onto Lyra, his polite smile softening. She felt her breath hitch. Memories of their shared past rushed back, but her thoughts were interrupted by her cousin Karen, who eagerly approached Dylan.
Lyra's steps faltered. Her heart ached at the thought of how distant he'd become. He had stopped writing to her, after all. Did he no longer care?
Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed Dylan approaching her until his hand appeared in her line of sight.
"May I have the honor of this dance, dear Crown Princess?" he asked, bowing slightly.
Lyra hesitated, glancing at Karen and Medea's glaring expressions. But then, a voice within her reminded her to stop worrying about others. What about what she wanted?
A small smile played on her lips as she placed her hand in his. "Of course. It would be my pleasure."
The music swelled as they moved to the center of the ballroom, all eyes on them. For a moment, the world fell away, leaving just the two of them amidst the music and the silence.
"So," Lyra began, "since when did you become a scholar?"
Dylan laughed. "In my defense, it was your assumption. I never claimed to be a scholar."
Lyra pouted teasingly. "Perhaps you should have told me who you really were. That would have saved me some embarrassment."
"Would you believe me if I said I didn't recognize you at first either?" Dylan confessed with a grin.
Lyra's smile softened. "That makes me a little disappointed, but I'll forgive you. For now."
"Well… truth be told… I didn't exactly recognize you as well."
"That makes me slightly disappointed," Dylan said with a teasing smile as Lyra pouted jokingly.
"What do you expect? I never thought you'd be living in a separate private palace and cooking by yourself," she replied, her tone laced with disbelief.
"Ah… that…" Lyra flinched and looked down, her expression clouding with unease. Dylan's grip on her hand tightened as he added softly, "Just what happened, Lyra? Why are you in such a state? King Derek is ill, you and Astrid are living in shadows…"
"It's a lengthy story," Lyra murmured, her voice trailing off.
"I have all the time in the world," Dylan said earnestly. "Just tell me."
Lyra moved closer and whispered, "Maybe some other time… not here."
"You better, because I am waiting. We're all worried about you. I'm worried about you. You suddenly stopped sending letters, and then we lost contact, and I—"
Dylan twirled Lyra in time with the music, cutting himself off mid-sentence. Taken by surprise, she interrupted gently, "Wait a minute… Did I stop sending letters? You were the one who stopped sending letters."
"Huh? No," Dylan said, his brow furrowed. "I faithfully kept writing to you for a year after you stopped sending me letters, hoping you'd reply one day."
"What are you talking about?" Lyra asked, confusion evident on her face. "I still… no… I mean, I also sent you handwritten letters for a long time after I stopped receiving yours."
"Does this mean we both sent each other letters but didn't receive them?" Dylan asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"It looks like someone else has been intervening," Lyra hissed, a flash of anger crossing her features. "And I recall who that someone is."
Dylan leaned closer, his curiosity piqued. "Therefore, what do you suggest by still?"
"Still?" Lyra's eyes widened as she realized her slip. Delicately flushed, her face turned beetroot red. "It was a mere slip of the tongue."
"If you say so," Dylan said, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if holding back a grin. "Alas, this is so heartbreaking. I can't believe I couldn't read your kind letters."
"…I know…" Lyra's voice was barely above a whisper.
"If only I could've come sooner," Dylan lamented. "But damn the Knight's training and then all that work."
"So you finally became a Knight?" Lyra asked, her eyes lighting up.
"I'm their honorary Commander now," he said proudly.
"You ultimately achieved your dream," Lyra said, a fond smile spreading across her face as she recalled how it had been his lifelong ambition to lead the Knights one day.
"I guess so," Dylan admitted with a small shrug. "Although it's not what I believed it was typically going to be. My job has to do more with paperwork than genuine practical work."
"You'll efficiently manage it. Don't worry," Lyra reassured him.
"Thank you." Dylan smiled, his expression softening as he gazed at her.
The song had come to an end, but Dylan didn't let go. Instead, he gently pulled her closer and whispered, "It is so good to talk merrily with you again. I longed to see you so much."
Lyra looked away, her cheeks tinged with pink. "…I dearly missed you too… although it still feels slightly awkward."
"You'll get used to this," Dylan said with a knowing smile.
As Lyra's eyes wandered, she caught sight of her Aunt Medea motioning her to follow. "Looks like I have to go," she said reluctantly.
"Where? We only had our first dance. The party has barely started," Dylan protested.
"Their parties typically tend to extend till late at night. I won't be staying for that long anyway. You should keenly enjoy," she replied with a soft smile.
"If you're not here, then what am I supposed to do?" Dylan asked, his tone almost petulant.
Blushing, Lyra modestly replied while gently pulling her hand away, "I'm not quite sure… eat? Dance? Oh! Karen was thinking of dancing with you. You know, it is customary for the guest to enjoy the first dance with the host."
"Oh right, yeah… she mentioned something, but I didn't hear what she said. Plus, I'm in the Kingdom of Anemoi, right? And who is the Crown Princess and future Queen of Anemoi? You. As far as local customs and traditions are concerned, I already fulfilled mine."
"…I see…" Lyra said, biting her lip. "Then I guess just enjoy the party?"
"If you're leaving, then I'm leaving too," Dylan declared, his tone firm.
Lyra could feel the burning gazes of Medea and, biting her lips, looked at Dylan, who seemed persistent. "Umm… do you want to meet up afterward?"
Dylan's eyes lit up. "Where?"
"In point of fact, Astrid has gone there already," Lyra explained. "Every so often at night, we gather in Father's room to have tea and snacks and, you know, just to chat. I was naturally wondering if you would sincerely like to join us as well."
"I would love to," Dylan said, his expression earnest. "Only if I'm not intruding on your family time and am not a bother."
Giggling, Lyra replied, "Silly, you won't be. Don't worry."
"Then I'll see you soon, my princess," Dylan said, bowing slightly and gently placing a soft kiss on the back of Lyra's hand, causing her to blush deeply.
Lyra, discreetly smiling and happy upon reuniting with Dylan, hummed a lullaby to herself as she made her way toward Medea. But as Medea motioned her to follow into one of the dark alleyways, suspicion crept over Lyra.
As she turned around, she felt something hot and burning painfully on her left cheek. Medea had struck her hard, her nails leaving scratch marks on Lyra's skin.
Lyra's glittering eyes widened in shock as she found herself standing before Medea and her cousins, all glaring ferociously at her.