The day ended peacefully, with Silverstein's parents lingering close to their son, basking in his presence after such a long absence. As dusk settled, the Dukes took their leave from the castle to prepare for the grand event on the morrow. The guardsmen and knights who had returned from war with the prince were well-fed, their spirits high after a feast fit for heroes. The four noble ladies, hopeful and nervous, retired to their rooms, while the Duchesses gathered with Queen Selina in the tea room for a late-night chat.
"I can hardly contain my excitement for tomorrow!" Queen Selina squealed, her hands clasped in delight. "To think, my baby boy will finally choose a wife!" She beamed, her joy almost childlike, as though no trouble had ever touched her life.
Theresa McCartney, the Duchess of the South, chuckled softly. "Ah, no offense, but I do hope he picks my Kiara," she said with a knowing smile, her tone light but full of ambition.
The other women laughed lightly, a delicate echo of her words. "Oh, no offense at all," said Duchess Meridian of the West. "We all wish our daughters to marry the Crown Prince. If only he could take all of them," she teased, sipping her tea as the others chuckled in agreement.
But not all were as vocal. The Duchess of the North, Brione Carmarthen, had been unusually quiet throughout the conversation. Theresa, whose distaste for Brione simmered beneath her polite exterior, took the opportunity to poke.
"Duchess Brione? You've been rather silent," Theresa said, her tone deceptively sweet. "Surely you want your daughter to be chosen, too? Or do you not share our enthusiasm?" The question was innocent enough, but the intent behind it was anything but. Theresa had always envied Brione's beauty—and worse, she knew her husband had once harbored feelings for her long ago.
Brione smiled serenely, recognizing the subtle jab but refusing to take the bait. "Of course I do," she replied, her voice soft and measured. "In fact, she was the only one he spoke to outside earlier, wasn't she? That's certainly a promising start." She chuckled gently, covering her lips with the back of her hand, her eyes gleaming as she glanced at Theresa, who looked momentarily stunned, though she quickly masked it with a tight smile.
Queen Selina laughed, aware of the tension but choosing to remain above it. She couldn't help but root for Brione in this silent rivalry. "Oh, goodness! It seems we all have our hopes, don't we?" she giggled. "I wish I had a daughter myself!"
Theresa, trying to maintain her charm, chuckled. "Well, you'll soon have one—once your son chooses a bride, that is. You'll gain a daughter-in-law soon enough."
The conversation carried on, the women exchanging light-hearted banter and thinly veiled barbs until the hour grew late and it was time to retire. The castle fell silent, the halls deserted, as everyone slipped into their chambers for the night. Yet, in the stillness of the castle, not all were at rest.
Alexandra Carmarthen tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep. No matter how she tried, the drowsiness eluded her. Frustrated, she sat up, pulling her covers aside and padding softly toward the window. Opening it slightly, she was greeted by a blast of frigid air that sent a shiver down her spine.
"Why is it so cold? Is winter coming early?" she muttered to herself, peering outside, half-expecting to see the first flakes of snow. But there was none—just the endless expanse of night, still and quiet. She sighed, restless, and closed the window again.
The castle felt strangely alive tonight, its corridors calling to her. After a moment's hesitation, she decided to go for a walk, hoping the movement might clear her mind. Wrapping herself in a flimsy purple night robe over her delicate gown, she slipped quietly from her room.
Her bare feet made no sound as they moved across the cold stone floors. The castle was beautiful in its slumber—silent, grand, and imposing. The flicker of torchlight cast long shadows along the walls as she wandered, her fingers trailing along the banister of the grand veranda.
As she walked, she noticed something odd—a door left slightly ajar, unlike all the others that were closed. Curiosity tugged at her, and she gently pushed it open, revealing a scene that made her breath catch.
There, seated on a backrest bench, was Silverstein, gazing out through a large glass wall that overlooked the moonlit landscape. A thin plume of smoke curled from the cigarette between his fingers, the soft glow of the ember the only movement in the room.
"I consider sneaking up on someone... quite rude," Silverstein said without turning, his voice smooth and languid as he exhaled a stream of smoke.
Alexandra's heart skipped a beat. How had he known she was there? She had made no sound at all.
"Come in, if you like," he said, his tone amused. "I don't bite."
Hesitating for only a moment, she stepped inside. The walls of the room were made of dark wood, the atmosphere intimate and warm despite the chill outside. She noticed there was only one bench, though there was enough space for her to sit at a respectful distance, which she did.
"Do you smoke?" Silverstein asked, his eyes still fixed on the horizon.
"No," Alexandra replied softly, almost squeaking, her nerves getting the better of her. She glanced at him—he was dressed in a simple black robe that hung just below his knees, his chest partially exposed though from her angle, she could only see a glimpse.
"Smoking isn't good for your health. It kills humans," she said, trying to keep the conversation going, her nerves jangling in the silence.
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "But then again, I'm not human." He turned his head slightly, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light, before he gave a half-smile. "At least, not a weak one. Smoking won't be my end."
Alexandra blinked, momentarily thrown off by his words. He wasn't human? Surely, he was joking. What else could he possibly be? But his tone had carried a weight of truth that unsettled her.
"Oh…" she murmured, unsure how to respond.
Silverstein leaned back slightly, his gaze softening as he studied her. "Do you have any siblings?" he asked, changing the subject, perhaps sensing her discomfort.
"Yes," she replied, grateful for the shift in conversation. "I have an older brother, but he's in the North."
He nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And you?" she ventured. "Do you have siblings?"
"Unfortunately, yes," he said with a dry laugh, as if the very idea irritated him.
"Unfortunately?" Alexandra asked, intrigued.
"I have four brothers," Silverstein said flatly, tossing the cigarette to the floor and extinguishing it with his bare foot. "But they aren't here. They live in a distant kingdom far from Caestria."
"Four brothers…?" Alexandra repeated, her curiosity growing. "Are they from the Queen?"
"No," he said, his voice quieter now. "I'm my mother's only child." Silverstein's left arm rested on the back of the bench, his hand now inches from her.