The weight of the party pressed against my chest like a vice, tightening with every forced smile, every hushed whisper that wasn't quite low enough to escape my ears. I could still feel Duke Callum's presence even though he was nowhere in sight. My stomach twisted every time I thought about him—about her, the woman he stood beside with ease, as if I had never existed in his world at all.
I wasn't sure why it affected me so deeply. He had never promised me anything. I had always known, on some level, that this world operated on different rules. Yet, my modern instincts refused to bend to the Victorian-esque norms surrounding me. The casual way people spoke about alliances and courtship as if love were a secondary consideration grated against everything I had been raised to believe.
And so, I found myself between Caladhior and Tsubasa at the banquet table, absently pushing around the delicate pastries on my plate as the noise of the celebration grew louder around us. Tsubasa, ever the trickster, was determined to distract me. He had taken it upon himself to make sure I tasted every single dessert the table had to offer, plucking treats from the ornate trays and bringing them to my lips with a mischievous smile.
"Come on," he coaxed, his golden eyes shimmering with amusement. "Just one more."
"I'm going to explode," I muttered, eyeing the delicate lavender macaron in his hand. "Are you trying to kill me?"
Tsubasa only grinned wider. "If I wanted to kill you, I'd be much more creative about it."
Caladhior, on the other hand, looked utterly disinterested in everything happening around him. He lounged in his chair, exuding an air of cold detachment, his dark violet eyes surveying the room with the same intensity he always did. Unlike Arvin, who thrived in the social environment, Cal seemed like he wanted to be anywhere but here.
As if sensing my thoughts, Arvin threw a charming smile at a noblewoman approaching our table and seamlessly intercepted her before she could speak to me. He had taken on the role of social buffer tonight, ensuring that I didn't have to engage in conversations I had no interest in having.
After what felt like hours of enduring the clinking of glasses, exaggerated laughter, and the suffocating pressure of expectation, I leaned toward Tsubasa and whispered, "I need to get out of here."
He gave me a searching look, as if he knew exactly what I wasn't saying. Then, with an easy nod, he extended his hand. "Come on."
He led me through a quieter path, slipping past clusters of mingling nobles with the kind of grace only he could manage. We exited through a back corridor, avoiding the main doors where Callum was, and made our way to the greenhouse near the entrance of the estate. It wasn't completely secluded—if someone looked out, they could still see us—but it was peaceful.
The moment we stepped inside, I felt like I could finally breathe. The warm scent of damp earth and blooming jasmine wrapped around me, and for the first time that night, I felt like I wasn't being watched. I sank onto the bench, exhaling slowly as Tsubasa knelt at my feet, his gaze never leaving my face.
"What's wrong?" His voice was softer now, devoid of its usual teasing lilt. He reached up, cupping my face between his hands as his thumb brushed against my cheek. "Something's been bothering you all evening."
His touch was grounding. I hadn't realized how much I needed it until now. I closed my eyes for a brief moment before finally saying it. "I saw Duke Callum."
Tsubasa stiffened slightly, but his hands didn't leave my face. "And?"
I opened my eyes, meeting his steady gaze. "He was with someone else. And he… he looked different tonight. His eyes—his whole presence—it was like I barely recognized him."
Tsubasa watched me carefully, his grip tightening just slightly. "Did you want to recognize him?"
I hesitated. "I don't know."
It was the truth. Callum had affected me in ways I couldn't quite understand, even now. But it wasn't just about him—it was about everything. The way this world functioned. The way I was expected to simply accept the way things were. I had spent my life believing in love, in fairness, in choice. But here, those things felt secondary to power, to status, to the silent agreements made behind closed doors.
"Before we started this," I continued, "I told you everything about him. About what happened."
Tsubasa nodded. "You did."
"So why does it still feel like I wasn't prepared for tonight?"
Tsubasa didn't answer immediately. Instead, he pulled me into his arms, wrapping me in the warmth of his embrace. His chin rested against the top of my head as he spoke. "Because knowing something and feeling it are two different things."
I exhaled, sinking into him. "It's stupid."
"It's not."
"I shouldn't care."
"You do."
I closed my eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He smelled like cedarwood and honey, a combination that had become so familiar it was almost comforting. He was right. It wasn't stupid. It wasn't something I could just turn off, no matter how much I wanted to.
After a few moments, I pulled back slightly to look at him. "You're not going to tell me I need to move on?"
Tsubasa smirked. "What kind of hypocrite would I be if I told you that? I've been holding on to things for centuries."
I huffed a small laugh despite myself. "Fair point."
His hand lifted to my face again, but this time, he wasn't just holding me—he was studying me. And then, with a kind of tenderness that made my chest tighten, he pressed his lips to my forehead.
"You'll figure it out," he murmured. "And when you do, I'll still be here."
The warmth of his kiss lingered long after he pulled away, and for the first time that evening, I felt something close to peace.
But it was short-lived.
Because the moment I turned my head, I saw him.
Duke Callum stood at the entrance of the greenhouse, his turquoise eyes locked onto us, his expression unreadable. The sight of Tsubasa's hands on me, the intimacy of the moment he had just witnessed—it was all there in his gaze.
And for the first time since seeing him tonight, I recognized him perfectly.
The storm in his eyes told me everything.
He cared.
Even if he didn't want to.