Nikkolas looked at me sourly, his hazel eyes lingering on mine as the distance between us widened. He carefully placed my body onto the sofa, after meticulously the cushions. I peer back at the nobles, curious to see if their gaze had followed us here. To my misfortune, thousands of eyes watched us as his hand cradled my head. He slipped a pillow behind me, before slowly laying me back down. I guess I will be staying for the duration of the banquet. My eyes followed his movements as he busied himself with clearing the coffee table, though I am uncertain for what purpose. Then he reached along the top shelf of the bookcase behind me and produced a book.

“Lady Avalor,” he bowed, addressing me, “please allow me to answer for my negligence, earlier. I remain sincere in my commitment to serve and protect you as my fiancée.”

I only stared back at him dully, indifferent to his stale act of appearing remorseful for premeditated actions. But he seemed to have anticipated my lackluster response, and simply handed me the book. “I recall you have an affinity for history and hope that during this period you may still take comfort in your passions.” I lowered my gaze to the cover of the book, unfamiliar with its title, The Triumph of Barclay.

“What is this?” I prodded, examining the gold engraving across the leather bound novel.

“A first edition account of the events that took place during Lord Ernest’s siege of the palace,” he replied plainly, “Do you like it?” I glanced at him, annoyed, and intent on concealing his minor success in appealing to me.

“I do,” I said in almost a whisper. “I might hold onto this,” I added haughtily as I skimmed the pages.

“It would bring me great joy to see that you do, Lady Avalor,” he replied. “Be aware that any other accommodations are at your request.”

“Yes, Lord Nikkolas,” I said sweetly, with a plastered-on smile, “ and if you don’t mind, I’d like to exercise that right, and ask for some space, at the moment.”

“Of course, Lady Avalor. May we resume our evening soon,” he replied with a smirk, implying he expected that my ailment would resolve itself before the third quarter of the night.

I let out a sigh, resigning myself to just lying there on the sofa, aimless. I watched as Nikkolas began to chat with the other guests, although he is too far for me to eavesdrop. I listlessly turned my head up at the ceiling. After several minutes, I realized there’s nothing of interest to note. However, it isn’t until I heard my stomach growling that I break free of my entrancement. Apathetic, I looked down at the book in my possession, unwilling to open it, again. As impressive as the text before me presents itself to be, I refused to let him take pleasure in my reading it. I considered drifting off for a nap when a familiar voice beckoned to me.

“Lady Avalor?” I turned my head to see a woman standing at my shoulder.

“Lady Serenity,” I replied, recognizing the Lady’s fair blue eyes against her ebony complexion, and the dark curls draped expertly on her head as they elegantly framed her face. “I am pleased to see you,” I greeted, tucking the book within the couch.

“The feeling is mutual,” she said, smiling, with a curtsey. Lady Serenity of House Windsor, a fellow Marquess’s daughter; I know her to be a kind soul, one whose presence I truly appreciate. “How are you?” she asked, her expression clearly concerned by my apparent illness.

“Oh, just a slight headache,” I interjected, with a hand to my temple. “How are you, this evening?” I continued, relying on her cheerful nature to help further the conversation.

“Well, I am mostly content,” she replied, “apart from my friend’s decision to not inform me that she had a lover!” I furrowed my brows, at a loss for words until it dawned on me what she really meant.

“Ah,” I say, attempting to sound not at all bewildered with her assumption that Nikkolas and I are in love. “Umm,” I clasped my fidgeting hands. “Well I guess it just… happened!” I said, with an insincere smile.

“Oh, don’t keep secrets!” she insisted, fervent I spill the nonexistent tea. “We all saw him carry you here!” A wave of annoyance hit me, the shape of his smirk etched along the interior of my skull.

“Yes, he did carry me here,” I acknowledged, still annoyed with the fact that it was true. She motioned to sit beside me; I folded my legs to accommodate her.

“So?” she asked, beaming and scooching closer to me. “What’s he like? How long have you guys been together?” I considered her question, piecing together my memories of being held hostage, chased through a bush, pressed against a door, and swung through the air like a ragdoll, only for His Grace to be praised all the same. In short, he’s insufferable and we have been together since this evening. However, that’s not what I say.

“He’s lovely,” I finally proffered, reluctantly. “But we haven’t been together too long,” I added, which isn’t a lie. Serenity’s smile faded into an unmistakable frown of disinterest and I can tell I’ve disappointed her.

“Are you sure you like him?” she asked with a curious smile, furrowing her brows.

“Of course, I do,” I assert, uneasy with her intrigue. “Why wouldn’t I?” I replied, as though I couldn’t already write several pages worth of why I wouldn’t. She crossed her arms and leaned close to me.

“Ava,” she whispered, “in the years I have known you, never have you shied away from voicing your disdain for a man you did not like.” I met her softened gaze, both defeated, yet relieved at her ability to read me so effortlessly. “Tell me, what’s so lovely about him,” she asked playfully.

“He’s a man,” I replied, rolling my head back. “A very wealthy, prestigious man with an utter disregard for a woman he’s meant to marry.”

“Thought so,” she said as she flicks her locks behind her, satisfied by my confession. “When were you informed of his engagement?” His engagement? I sat up and narrowed my eyes at her, curious as to what information she’s been withholding.

“Our marriage was arranged by our parents,” I confirmed. “He never proposed to me.” She initially appeared perplexed by my reaction, before a sudden realization seems to dawn on her.

“Ah, yes,” she declared, raising her index finger to address the specifics. “While he did not technically propose to you, he was the one who proposed the union.” I furrowed my brows, struggling to navigate this revelation.

“I beg your pardon? Do you mean to suggest he was the one who arranged our marriage?” I pressed.

“Of course, were you not informed?” she asked.

“No, I- I don’t recall,” I said, distracted, and racking my brain for any hint this wasn’t the work of our parents. Alas, no such indication came to mind. “H-how did you know?” I asked, curious of her source.

“Ugh, it was all Lady Margot would complain about during last month’s studies. I truly assumed you already knew,” she admitted, sincerity in her tone. “That’s why I questioned how long you had known him.” Ah.

“But, Lady Margot?” I pressed. “What was troubling her? During the first dance, I had noticed her glaring at me from the crowd, but I hadn’t assumed it heralded a specific hatred.”

“Well,” Serenity started, throwing her leg over her lap, “from what I gathered, her parents made the grave mistake of promising her the future Grand Duke’s hand in marriage from a very young age.”

“You mean His Grace?” I scoffed, “Someone actually wanted to marry him?”

“It would seem so,” she snickered. “Unfortunately, that someone would be Lady Margot,” she pouted her lips in consolation, “and she has not taken the news of his engagement lightly.”

“Hmm,” I said, widening my eyes at such a predicament. “So it would seem, indeed. Not only must I accommodate His Grace,” I continued, with the tilt of my head, “but also contend with Lady Margot’s rage. It’s just my humble opinion, but I think they would’ve made a perfect match.”

Lady Serenity smiled at the notion.

“I mean, his reckless nature coupled with her unbridled furor—” I looked at her intently, “they’d be a match made in Hell.”

“That’s for certain,” Serenity assured me with a chuckle before relaxing her expression. “Have you at all considered why he might have chosen you?”

I glanced up at the ceiling and pouted my lips mockingly, feigning interest in the notion. As though his engagement meant anything outside of a political alliance. “Apart from this blasted wound in my back from Cupid’s arrow,” I suggested, jokingly massaging my shoulder blade, “I haven’t a clue.”

“Maybe he’s fallen for your je ne sais quoi,” she teased, batting her eyelashes at me. My mind bristled with memories of our conversations, giving me pause. His occasional sweet sentiments prodded at me to reconsider his intentions, rousing the sensation of his thumb smudging my bottom lip. I shuddered at the thought.

“Shall we go see him?” she asked, a mischievous grin spreading on her lips. “We should ask him what he finds so alluring about you!”

“Huh? Wait—” Serenity jumped up from her seat, and thrust my arms toward her, pulling me up from the sofa. “Serenity, I’m not feeling well–” I gently pleaded.

She raises a brow, but doesn’t stop pulling me up. Once vertical, she hurriedly guides me through the maze of guests and makes a beeline for His Grace, practically dragging me.

“Serenity, please,” I begged in a violent whisper, “we can mingle, dance, or eat hor d'oeuvres together, but I forbid you from guiding me back to him!” She turned her head back to address me, too distracted by the thrill of my love life to notice the guests around us.

“Oh, please—” Serenity started, but bumped into another noble, causing me to collide with her. My eyes darted towards the man, who looked at both of us, with a familiar smirk.