The evening had settled over the Varnhart estate, and the pale moonlight cast a soft glow on the elaborate gardens. Princess Diana, restless after the banquet, found herself wandering the vast estate. Her mind kept returning to the boy she had encountered earlier, Orion, and the unusual tension between him and the Duke's family. It had been impossible not to notice the stark contrast between the warmth Orion exuded and the coldness that seemed to surround his supposed kin.
As Diana strolled through the garden paths, the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional croak of a distant frog were the only sounds that accompanied her steps. Her mind was elsewhere, pondering the mystery of the boy, when she heard someone approach.
Turning, she spotted a young figure walking toward her with purpose, his steps confident and measured. He was around her age, perhaps a little older, and wore the black tunic of House Varnhart, adorned with a family crest. His silver hair shimmered in the moonlight, and his golden eyes caught hers with an intensity that was striking, even unsettling.
Princess Diana paused. This boy was no servant—he carried himself with an air of authority, much like someone who had been trained to lead. She didn't recognize him at first, but the distinct color of his eyes made her realize he must be the Duke's eldest son, Cassian. The prodigy, rumored to be as skilled as his father, if not more.
"You must be Princess Diana," the boy said, his voice smooth, though laced with an edge that revealed a maturity beyond his years.
"Yes, I am," she replied, standing taller in the presence of the Varnhart heir. "And you are?"
"Cassian Varnhart," he said with a slight bow, though it seemed more out of habit than respect. "Eldest son of Duke Casimir Varnhart."
Diana regarded him with more interest now. She had heard stories of Cassian—how he was a genius on the battlefield, a tactical prodigy, and one day destined to inherit the mantle of leadership from his father. His silver hair, so much like the Duke's, and his golden eyes, a gift from his mother, Princess Isolde, made him stand out even among the Varnhart heirs.
"I had heard of you," Diana said, her tone polite yet curious. "The Duke's most esteemed son. I understand you are quite the prodigy."
Cassian's lips twisted into a small, proud smile, though there was little warmth in it. "It's expected of me," he replied, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of something more—something unspoken. "If I don't live up to the Varnhart name, I might as well disappear."
Diana studied him carefully, sensing the weight in his words. The pressure of being the Duke's eldest son seemed to weigh on him far more than any child should bear. But before she could inquire further, Cassian's eyes shifted toward the far corner of the garden, where the small child she had seen earlier—Orion—had been playing.
"I saw that boy earlier," Diana said, following his gaze. "The one who resembles your father. Who is he?"
Cassian's gaze darkened slightly, and for a moment, Diana could swear she saw a flash of distaste flicker across his face.
"That boy," he said, his voice colder than it had been moments before, "is nothing like my father."
Diana raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden shift in his demeanor. "But he looks—"
"Do not mistake looks for blood," Cassian interrupted, his tone sharp. "That child is a mistake. Nothing more."
Diana blinked, caught off guard by his harshness. "He's your brother, isn't he?" she asked, her curiosity piqued. She had noticed the resemblance between Orion and the Duke, but this stark rejection confused her.
Cassian's jaw tightened. His eyes, once glowing with the same golden light as his mother's, now seemed distant, his expression unreadable. "He is not my brother. Not in any way that matters."
The bitterness in his voice was palpable, and Diana's curiosity deepened. "But why?" she asked, her voice softer now, almost coaxing. "Why does it matter so much?"
Cassian's gaze flicked toward her, his golden eyes filled with something unreadable. For a moment, Diana thought he might offer some explanation, but instead, he simply turned on his heel, his silver hair catching the moonlight as he walked away.
"I suggest you forget about that boy, Princess," he called over his shoulder. "There are more important things to focus on."
Diana stood in the garden, a sense of unease settling in her chest. Cassian's words lingered in the air, thick with a sense of unspoken tension. She had no idea what had transpired between the Varnhart family, but it was clear that something deep and unresolved lay beneath the surface.
She turned back to where Orion had been, but he was gone, lost in the shadows of the garden. The mystery of the boy, and the unsettling nature of Cassian's words, would stay with her long after she left the Varnhart estate. And for reasons she couldn't explain, she found herself more determined than ever to understand the truth.