A flicker of violet light shone, startling the few maids who rushed inside the Grand Duke's mansion.
Lucian, Cynthia, and Atlas emerged from the light at the entrance, and the maids sighed in relief. They had feared it might have been an attack.
"You may leave now," Lucian ordered Atlas, who bowed to the couple before hastily retreating to his quarters.
Night had fallen, casting a soft glow over the landscape. Cynthia's white dress fluttered in the breeze, her silver hair catching the moonlight as she glanced at the taller man beside her.
His silence spoke volumes; she sensed his internal conflict—whether to trust her or not.
Lucian parted his lips to speak, but the words wouldn't come. He had suggested Atlas use the teleportation spell, knowing well the distance between their recent destination and his mansion.
The last thing he wanted was to be alone with Cynthia, especially when he struggled to find the right words.
