“My dear,” Nikkolas said, bringing his arm around my waist, ushering me to his side, “I didn’t realize you’d be back so soon.” He tilted his head at me before, “Did you miss me so terribly that you would forgo your rest to be at my side?”

“Ah, well, it would appear my headache has subsided,” I said with a shrug and a smile.

I shot a glare at Serenity, furious at her betrayal, before turning back to His Grace. I noticed how he carried with him an air of content and a half-emptied champagne glass, seemingly enjoying himself. Eyeing the drips of alcohol sliding down its side, I felt myself resent his inelegance, the way he appeared to take pleasure in my misfortune. Perhaps he was too hasty to drink on the occasion. I noticed a mark on his lapel, champagne, the stain soaking into his coat.

“Ah,” he said regretfully, having followed my lingering stare, “This was my fault. I sipped my drink carelessly.”

I narrowed my eyes at His Grace, unconvinced by his account of events. “It would appear my unsteady hands have betrayed me, and I have splashed the liquor on myself,” he chuckled, oddly covering for his transgression, “the glass must’ve been overfilled.”

I watched cautiously as he turned to Serenity. “Lady Serenity, I have heard many good things about you.”

“As have I, Your Grace,” Serenity replied with a curtsey, glancing at me with a smile.

“Have you now?” he questioned her intently, lowering his gaze to me, “What has she told you?”

I fixed a stern gaze on Serenity, insistent she zip her lips.

“Nothing but how lovely you are, Your Grace,” she assured him. I glanced up at him, curious if he detected insincerity in her words.

“Hmmph,” he retorted, tilting his head at me, “For a brief moment I was beginning to assume she despised me."

I parted my lips at the notion and turned my head to him, suddenly uncomfortable to be in such close proximity to everyone. Our eyes meet as he continues, seemingly able to sense my unease. “I only jest, Lady Serenity. I’m quite aware of the love my dear Avalor harbors in her heart,” he said, a smirk once again on his lips. “Don’t you, Avalor?” If it was any other noble, I wouldn’t suspect the intent of his words. However, the dip in his tone when addressing me by name is an unmistakable threat, an attempt to coerce my cooperation.

“Ah, yes,” I replied, tense as his stare lingered. “I l-love…” the words scorched my lips as I spoke, “Lord Nikkolas.” A new sense of dread weighed heavy over my heart as I felt the burdens of my engagement become more complicated.

I realized now that I had tried to sway him out of a marriage he had organized, foolishly assuming it had disrupted his life as much as it had mine. As the future Grand Duke, I anticipated that he’d been raised to feel a sense of duty to his parents, to his title. To maintain peace among the Houses. It's long been a responsibility of our noble classes to facilitate these unions. I was naive to insist I had no intention of marrying him, having invoked his passion. Looking at him now, I recognized the gold in his eyes; a deceptively sweet blaze, balancing just on the edge of each other.

He brought his face to my ear and whispered, “I love you more,” before planting a kiss against my cheek.

His touch left me numb, rather than irritated, no longer the fleeting nuisance I had presumed him to be. I watched as he turned his attention to Serenity, seemingly having forgotten about her. “My apologies, Lady Serenity,” His Grace uttered. “Lady Avalor promised to reunite with me for dinner. Please excuse us.”

“Oh, there’s no need to apologize, Your Grace,” she offered, but he’s already begun guiding me towards the dining room. I look back at Serenity, who’s expression mirrors the same concern I feel. As he escorted me past other guests I feel inclined to speak, but I couldn’t discuss sensitive matters with him in the presence of everyone else. I turned my gaze up at him, hoping it may prove a more discreet signal that I want to get him alone, but he doesn’t seem to notice the meaning in my glances. I resorted to gently tugging at his coat, which gets his attention.

“Yes?” he inquires, the gold in his hazel eyes more apparent now.

“Do you mind if we dine outside tonight?”

He furrowed his brows, puzzled by my sudden desire.

“Just somewhere preferably private, Lord Nikkolas,” I said, pressing him.

“Of course,” he conceded, “whatever you prefer, Lady Avalor.” He smiled at me before turning to address a nearby attendant, instructing him to have our dinner served on the west wing’s patio. “This way, Avalor,” he said, continuing through the ballroom.

I hear the voices of the other guests growing fainter as they approach the grand hall, and eventually the hall falls silent. We walked down the dimly lit corridor, lined with forest green wallpaper and numerous portraits.

The air around us becomes increasingly eerie the farther we venture. I began to wonder whether allowing him to escort me down this dark hall was wise of me, afterall. He hasn’t spoken a word since we left the dining area, but his arm holds firm, interlocked in mine.

I glanced up at him, noticing how his figure looms over me. I think back to his grip on my wrist in the courtyard, remembering how my strength paled in comparison to his. If I were to find myself in a similar position now, my chances of escape would rely on employing a distraction. However, seemingly no soul resides here but us. The lights overhead do nothing to quell my apprehension, casting a shadow over his face. My heartbeat hastens and I feel anxious about breaking the silence. As much as a dialogue might calm my fears, I simultaneously attribute this to a grace period and remain quiet.

We eventually round a corner to reveal a cascade of moonlight pouring through several windows. Its glow illuminates us both, but particularly his face. In spite of his domineering presence, the soft glow of the night appears to complement his features, revealing the slight cleft in his chin, his relaxed almond eyes, and a strong jawline. Moreover, hair I originally assumed to be jet black in color is revealed to be better accurately described as a deep carob brown. I notice how it’s marginally unkempt and watch, mesmerized as the light embraces the loose curls floating above him.

Movement from the corner of his eye tells me I must’ve been staring long enough for him to detect my gaze. I quickly fix my attention straight ahead, even though I’m quite aware I’ve been caught. Seconds pass and the transgression stays unannounced, to my relief. I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea. At the end of the hall, we reach a pair of French glass doors. Peering through them, I see a round table set for two and a gated deck, which I presume is the west wing patio. He politely let go of my arm and walked ahead of me to hold open the door.

“Lady Avalor,” he says graciously, referring to the entrance. I walked past him onto the patio and basked in the moonlight.

“Thank you, Lord Nikkolas,” I affirmed.

He allows the door to close behind him. Upon my independent approach to the table, I feel a hand on my upper arm, motioning me to wait. His Grace swiftly pulls out the seat, disturbing the white cloth hung over the table’s side. He glides his opposite hand down along my back, pressing gently as he gestures for me to sit down. I watch as he takes a seat across from me, bringing his elbows to the table and resting his head on his clasped hands. The curve of his lips illustrate a seemingly genuine fondness as he gazes into my eyes.

I begin to feel self-conscious, as the subject of his lingering stare, and anxiously glance around the table, desperate for something to focus my attention on. Roses in a porcelain vase, silverware lining either plate, cloth napkins fastened with gold rings. Jittery, I reach for the nearest utensil. A fork, that’s worth examining. I certainly couldn’t use filthy cutlery if I was to enjoy a meal with His Grace.

“There’s no need to inspect the silverware, Lady Avalor,” he interrupts my scrutiny, causing my hand to tremble and drop the fork. I awkwardly grasp at the fork to pick up again, but the warmth of His Grace’s hand calms my turbulence. I meet his hazel eyes, still hesitant to trust his advances. “They’re as perfect as you.”

“Of course, Lord Nikkolas,” I replied, not fully considering the implication of his words. “They certainly are p-perfect.”

“Let’s do away with such titles,” he suggests, a dreamy look in his eye.

“Huh?” I smiled awkwardly, curious if he meant to have me refer to him by his name alone.

“Our titles as Lord and Lady. Let’s do away with them in privacy, like this,” he suggests again, insistent, his thumb now caressing my wrist. The act of his repeated touch comes across as purposeful, intense.

“Ah,” I replied, prepared to appear more yielding than last time. “Certainly…” I continue, noticing the slightest narrowing of his eyes at my indecision, “Nikkolas.”

“Perfect,” he cooed, appeased by my answer.

“Nikkolas,” I said, anxious, as I dread what I’m about to ask him.

“Yes, Avalor?” he responded tenderly, the warm honey in his hazel eyes more vivid than before.

“Why didn’t you inform me that our engagement was your doing?”