Two months had passed since their arrival in Terravale, yet Duke Theomund Whitlock found himself inundated with a deluge of letters. Invitations to high-society events, pleas urging his return to Silverkeep, and requests for private discussions with Terravale's marquesses and earls filled his correspondence. While he attended a handful of events out of courtesy, the ceaseless social demands left him fatigued. One certainty loomed: his respite in Terravale was drawing to a close.
Theo retreated to his balcony, basking in the warm afternoon sun of Terravale. Turning his attention inward, he honed his senses to connect with the intricate web of minerals concealed beneath the earth. Navigating this subterranean landscape felt like a journey through diverse territories, each metal offering a distinct signature—the smooth hum of iron, the sharp resonance of copper, or the sturdy vibrations of steel. As his focus deepened, he discerned the density, texture, and even the history of the metal, as though unravelling the story etched in the layers of the earth. In that profound moment, he extracted the essence of the earth, feeling its vibrations resonate within him.
Concurrently, he became aware of the gradual rise in his body temperature as he honed his focus further, absorbing the core energy of these metals. These techniques formed a part of his mana training, a heritage passed down through his lineage. Prepared to delve deeper into this communion with the earth's essence, he was interrupted by a gentle knock on his door.
"Come on in," Duke Theo turned, only to find a dazed Eydis and Sir John at the threshold. The notion of Eydis observing him stirred a skipped beat in his heart. Bathed in the warm, orange glow of the afternoon, sharing his study with Eydis felt oddly intimate. Contemplating his emotions, he grappled with the internal debate of whether to act on these sentiments. Feelings, he mused, were a perilous territory—a potential vulnerability to be exploited at any moment, a weakness he couldn't afford. It was a rationalisation , he acknowledged, especially when faced with the undeniable strength of the beautiful brunette before him. Perhaps, it was his own cowardice at play, a fear of soaring too close to the radiant sun, despite the longing and dependence he harboured.
Recollections of his eldest brother's counsel echoed in his mind—the admonition that love equated to weakness, a luxury unfit for the heir of a prestigious house. His thoughts drifted to his late brother, the original heir of the Silverkeep duchy, felled by wounds sustained in the clash with the Mythshollow Woods. Supposed to bring glory to Silverkeep with his extraordinary metal-wielding talent, he proved no match for the witches, a fate mirrored by their father. Left in the wake of their demise, Theo, the last Whitlock, bore the responsibility of upholding the family legacy. His mind touched upon the silent promise made to them as they breathed their last in his arms—to perpetuate their lineage. Yet, noble-commoner unions often ended tragically, as children born from such matches struggled to inherit the abilities of their noble lineage.
Was love substantial enough to warrant risking everything? The princess's proposal, once seemingly unconventional, now resonated with unexpected clarity. Perhaps, she possessed a wisdom surpassing her appearance, discerning the intricate tapestry of the Emperor's past.
A question lingered—would Eydis despise him if she could delve into his thoughts? The inevitability of their eventual parting emerged as a space they might need.
"Are you leaving soon, Your Grace?" Eydis's sweet voice shattered his reverie, her eyes gleaming with enigmatic intent, as though she could pluck thoughts from his mind.
He offered her a reluctant smile. "It seems Silverkeep requires my presence," the words echoing the conflict that had occupied his thoughts.
"You're departing shortly, yet you still haven't posed the question, Your Grace."
What question? Did she, perhaps-
"Did you forget about your second offer, about Silverkeep's official position?" Duke Theomund breathed a sigh of relief at Eydis's clarification.
"Miss Eydis, there's no urgency to respond to my offer until you graduate. Know that Silverkeep welcomes you with open arms," he found himself subconsciously reaching out to brush a stray lock from her delicate face—an impulse beyond his control.
They conversed on the balcony until the vibrant rays of sunlight dissolved, and the quiescent dusk of Terravale unfolded in a beauty he hadn't fully appreciated before. Offering her a glass of merlot, a subtle act of rebellion, he found satisfaction as she accepted. Their discussion ranged from mundane daily tasks to details of her upcoming boarding school and notable figures she should be aware of.
"Your Grace, one thing I adore about this place is how enchanting the stars appear," Eydis spoke, a faint blush gracing her cheeks as she downed a fourth glass of wine.
"You can witness even more in Silverkeep, just so you know," he responded in a competitive tone, referring to the enchanting Northern Light, his gaze intent upon her.
"I know, I know, Duke. Nothing can compare to your beauty," Theo felt a warmth in his cheeks at her teasing, wishing he could muster the same stoicism as Sir John in response to Eydis's antics.
Smirking at his silence, she sighed, "I will miss you, Your Grace."
"That was rather forthcoming, Miss Eydis," though his face betrayed hints of delight.
"I mean it. I'm grateful for saving your handsome life," a drunken Eydis playfully nudged his arm, a gesture he found endearing. Soon, they retired to their respective bedrooms, Theo peacefully asleep in his bed while Eydis continued to gaze at the glittering stars in a state of wonder.
She grappled with guilt, exploiting the Duke's affections, weaving a facade that blurred the line between sincerity and manipulation. Despite her penchant for blushing after just a glass, Eydis wielded her alcohol tolerance as a shield, concealing her innermost thoughts from Duke Theomund. Grateful for his attention yet aware of the insurmountable chasm between her true self and the honourable man he perceived.
As she lay in bed, dreams transported her to a past where her hands bore the weight of strangers' blood. Unapologetic about her history, she accepted herself for who she was. However, the Duke, a man of virtue, would struggle to embrace the darkness within her. If he glimpsed her ending a life with unflinching detachment, it would become another weight on his burdened shoulders.
Amidst her undeniable attraction to him, she faced an undeniable truth: no matter how dazzling the man with the kind heart, their paths could never converge into a shared future.
The rhythmic tapping abruptly stirred Callista from her slumber. She traced the sound to its origin, a familiar annoyance she couldn't ignore.
"What are you scheming now?" she inquired, toying with her ebony locks.
Indigo, caught off guard, complained, "Callista, you could at least snap a twig. Must you be so silent?"
She smirked, casually shrugging, "Your flustered expression is priceless, Indigo. How long was I out?"
Indigo, mouth agape, hesitated before whispering, "Less than two months."
Her irritation intensified. "Indigo, how long?" Her voice oscillated between a compelling half-yell and a hushed whisper.
"A bit over two months," he confessed, bracing for her outburst, expecting it to be aimed at a certain brunette and at Callista's incompetent accomplices.
Profanities ensued, followed by a demand: "Steak."
"I beg your pardon?" Indigo questioned, missing her demand altogether with the profanities. He had been unnecessarily good at selective listening when it came to the angry woman before him.
"I've endured your liquid concoctions for two months; now I want steak!" She declared.
Indigo rushed to fulfil her request, narrowly avoiding falling on his face as he tripped over his chair. Post-500 grams of steak and a stream of curses, Callista reclined, satisfied.
"What now? Have you identified her?" she inquired.
"Unfortunately no, she remained a mystery. But I certainly hope Miss Eydis can escape your wrath. Can you spare her?" Indigo pleaded.
Ignoring him, Callista sipped her drink, pretending not to hear. She moved to the balcony, gazing at the glittering sky.
"Did she get in?" she asked.
Indigo confirmed, "Yes, indeed."
Surveying Callista's silhouette, enveloped in a lacy black dress, he grasped the nocturnal allure she exuded. With a history spanning beyond an average human's lifetime, it came as no shock that Indigo could effortlessly anticipate Callista's words.
"Looks like I'll be encountering her at that accursed academy," she mused, foretelling a new chapter in their intertwined existence.