"Oh, my God, can you even believe this?" Vyan exclaimed, his gestures exaggerated as he narrated the day's events to Clyde and Freya.
"That's amazing!" Clyde applauded, his enthusiasm genuine.
"What's so amazing about all this?" Vyan demanded, perplexed by Clyde's reaction.
"So, let me get this straight," Freya interjected, her brow furrowed in concentration. "The woman you once loved, who is now your sworn enemy, is moving in with you to gather evidence against you?"
"Exactly! Do you two realize the danger of this situation?" Vyan exclaimed, his worry showing on his brows. "What if that woman is plotting to sabotage the upcoming festival?"
"I highly doubt that," Clyde chimed in, attempting to reassure Vyan.
"Enough, Clyde. Your words are banned from participating in this discussion," Vyan declared firmly. "I swear, if she dares to disrupt the festival, I will forget my elaborate revenge plan and just aim for her head—"
"Yes, we get it. It's imperative for the monster-hunt festival to proceed smoothly, Vyan," Freya interfered before he could go on with his murderous rant, her tone objective. "The funds raised from the festival are vital for supporting farmers across Ashstone. We can't afford any interference."
"Exactly. The farmers have suffered for sixteen long years due to the festival's ban, which has also impacted Ashstone's overall economy," Vyan affirmed. "This shouldn't go on any longer."
"Once again, I don't believe Lady Iyana has malicious intentions—" Clyde began, only to be silenced by a deadly glare from Vyan. "Right. I will keep quiet."
"Vyan, since Lady Iyana will be by your side, it's wise to keep a close watch on her," Freya advised, to which Vyan nodded emphatically.
"You are absolutely right. I will not allow her to harm my people, no matter what," he declared adamantly.
"May I speak now?" Clyde ventured cautiously.
Vyan rolled his eyes. "Go ahead."
"It's nice to see you genuinely caring about the people of Ashstone, Vyan," Clyde remarked. "Especially considering your past disdain due to their harsh treatment of your parents."
"Don't misunderstand me. I still hold no love for them, or rather, I am indifferent," Vyan confessed. "But I do prioritize Ashstone's prosperity. Restoring my family's former prestige is my ultimate goal, and this festival is just one step towards achieving that."
"Of course, Vyan. I trust your intentions completely. I am your aide, after all; if you say the sky is green, then green it is," Clyde replied serenely, as if he were a saint.
"That's enough out of you," Vyan snapped in annoyance. "Have you forgotten that I manipulated Commander Pembrooke into poisoning himself so that it would lead to Haynes' defeat in the war against Haberland?"
"Yes, but you also seemed convinced that Lady Iyana would never allow her country to lose," Clyde countered.
"And why would I believe that? My objective was to spark opposition against the emperor for his reckless decision to engage in war with Haberland for his petty ego," Vyan retorted sharply.
"Fair point, but deep down, you never truly believed you would succeed, did you?" Clyde challenged.
"That's beside the point, Clyde. Let's stay focused," Freya cut in, her voice firm. "All of that's ancient history now. Our priority is safeguarding our secrets from Lady Iyana."
"You are right, Freya," Vyan agreed, nodding. "Seriously, she seems to be the only one with brain cells in this room."
"So you mean you don't have any, either, Vyan?" Clyde quipped with an annoying grin.
"Quiet, you!" he rebuked. "You better keep that loose tongue of yours in check. If I catch wind of you spilling anything to Iyana, I will have you turned into a statue for eternity."
Clyde couldn't help but burst into laughter at Vyan's half-hearted threat. "Sure thing, boss."
———
The following day, Iyana was found standing on the doorstep of the Ashstone main residence, greeted by Benedict and a handful of maids, their expressions betraying a somber welcome.
"Welcome, my lady. I trust your journey was pleasant," Benedict greeted with forced politeness, though his demeanor hinted at his disdain to see her there.
"Thank you," Iyana murmured, casting a discerning glance around. "Is His Grace not here to greet me?"
"Master is still asleep," Benedict informed her.
"Still asleep?" Iyana's surprise was clear. It was already ten in the morning; how could anyone still be asleep at this hour?
"Master tends to work late into the night, so he prefers to rise later in the day," Benedict explained.
"And when does he find time for his sword training?" she inquired.
"Typically around eleven," Benedict replied.
Iyana nodded, though she couldn't fathom sleeping in so late and then training with a sword any later than the crack of dawn. Maybe his haphazard schedule was responsible for his rumored poor sword skills.
"In any case, your quarters are located in the west wing. You are free to make use of that wing as you see fit," Benedict instructed. "Our chefs are at your disposal; simply inform them of your culinary preferences, and they will cater to your needs..."
"In which wing does His Grace reside?" Iyana interrupted, her attention drifting from Benedict's instructions.
"Why do you ask?" Benedict regarded her with suspicion.
"Just curious," Iyana shrugged. "Is it the East wing?" she ventured, and Benedict reluctantly confirmed, eliciting a chuckle from her.
She had suspected she would be lodged in the opposite wing from Vyan, and her assumption proved correct.
Benedict continued his briefing, and this time, Iyana made a conscious effort to pay attention.
After Benedict had seen her to her quarters and departed, Iyana wasted no time in slipping away. She moved with silent grace through the corridors, ensuring she remained unseen by any passing servants of the residence.
Her destination was the east wing, and she navigated the hallways until she reached an imposing set of double doors at the far end.
It struck her as odd that there were no guards stationed outside the quarters of the Grand Duke, especially considering his lack of magical abilities and mediocre swordsmanship.
He seemed alarmingly vulnerable; for someone of his stature, heightened security should have been a given for heaven's sake.
For a moment, she entertained the thought of how easy it would be to eliminate him if she had such intentions.
But killing him wasn't part of her plan; she simply needed evidence to clear her family's name before Count Clipton dragged them into the imperial court.
Originally intending to assess the guard situation discreetly, she found herself tempted to venture further. No, it was more like she was being drawn inside.
"Just a quick glance inside wouldn't hurt," she reasoned, her rational brain left behind outside the door.
Quietly pushing the doors open, she entered the room.
The darkness inside was a stark contrast to the bright sunlight streaming through the windows in the hallway, and a subtle scent of lavender hung in the air.
"Lavender?" she mumbled to herself, pondering whether Vyan suffered from sleeping troubles, given the herb's reputed calming effects.
As her eyes adjusted to the dimness, they fell upon Vyan, sprawled facedown on the bed, blankets haphazardly covering him.
Despite herself, a soft smile tugged at her lips.
"How adorable," she murmured, moving closer to get a better view.
As Iyana drew nearer, she noticed beads of cold sweat glistening on Vyan's neck, as if he were stuck in a looping nightmare.
"...please don't, my lady..." he murmured, his voice barely audible, tugging at her heartstrings for some inexplicable reason.
However, in the midst of her contemplation, a sudden realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. What on earth was she doing standing in his bedroom? What if he were to awaken at that very moment?
She turned to leave—
But it seemed like fate had other plans.
In her haste, she collided with the nightstand, sending a decorative trinket tumbling to the floor. Before she could react, the curtains flung open with a flourish, and a strong hand seized her wrist, yanking her backward.
The next thing she knew, Vyan was looming over her, his eyes ablaze with fury as he pinned her arms above her head, his grip firm around her neck.
"What in the world are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice thick with sleep.
Iyana took a moment to gather her thoughts, recovering from the surprise. "Good morning, Your Grace."
"Is that what I asked?"
"Well, I was merely exploring your manor and became intrigued by this room. It was a harmless curiosity, I swear," she explained.
Vyan scoffed. "And you expect me to believe that you stumbled into my bedroom by accident?"
She shook her head, adopting a look of innocence. "Why would I knowingly trespass, especially when I knew you were inside?"
"How convenient," he muttered, eyeing her suspiciously.
"What's truly convenient is your instinct to pin a girl to your bed the moment you catch her," she remarked dryly. "Perhaps you are in dire need of a wife, Your Grace."
"Why does everyone keep suggesting I need a wife?" Vyan grumbled, releasing her and stepping back.
"Maybe it's because you do." Iyana remained lying on the soft bed, glancing at the now-opened windows. "How did the curtains suddenly open like that? Almost as if by magic."
"They are magically automated to open when I awaken," Vyan explained matter-of-factly.
"I see. Interesting."
He emerged from the bed, his irritation visible in the furrow of his brow. "Why on earth are you still lounging in my bed? Get up."
Iyana stretched out luxuriously, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. "No, thank you. I am quite enjoying the view."
Vyan glanced around the room, perplexed. "What view? There's nothing particularly captivating in here."
"Oh, the view is right in front of me," she replied with a sly grin.
"In front of you?" His gaze followed hers and landed on his own bare torso.
Instantly, his cheeks flushed crimson. "What in blazes? You are a pervert!" With a hasty motion, he reached for his robe to cover himself.
Iyana couldn't contain her laughter as she sat up. "Why so bashful, Your Grace?"
"Just leave, you shameless woman," he snapped, his embarrassment deepening with each passing moment.
As she made her way towards the door, her laughter echoed in the room, adding fuel to his mortification.
Just when he thought he could finally breathe a sigh of relief, she stopped and called out, "Your Grace?"
He turned to look at her, his expression a mix of annoyance and dread.
A mischievous grin spread across her face as she remarked, "Nice body, by the way."