Ryan watched as Esmeralda turned her gaze away, her lashes lowered, a shy smile ghosting over her lips. He cleared his throat too loudly, realizing he’d been caught staring. It surprised him how captivated he was by her reactions to everything outside the palace—a mix of wonder and excitement, like she was discovering the world for the first time. The way she looked at the bustling streets, the distant mountains, even the bright market stalls—it was as if each scene held a hidden magic that he couldn’t see. He couldn’t help but wonder about her life in the palace. How confining had it been to make her react this way? And just how often had she been overlooked or dismissed?

Earlier that day, when he’d arrived at the palace to meet her, she had been brimming with enthusiasm. She’d greeted him with genuine warmth, her curiosity and eagerness shining through. But his brief encounter with her sister, Philia, had revealed an entirely different side of the palace dynamics—a side that, judging by Philia’s disdain, Esmeralda had endured for a long time.

Being guided by a maid to a drawing room, he had caught the sound of Philia’s shrill voice ringing down the corridor. Dismissing the maid, he stood listening from the doorway, his curiosity piqued by the scene unfolding before him.

"You can’t marry the duke," Philia had snapped, her tone venomous.

"Why?" Esmeralda’s voice was calm, almost indifferent, though Ryan could sense a hint of tiredness, as though she’d had this conversation too many times before.

"You are not fit to become a duchess," Philia continued, her anger rising to the point of near hysteria.

Esmeralda’s tone stayed measured. "I’m a princess. Do you think being a duchess would be difficult for me?"

Philia’s face twisted, the indignation and jealousy practically oozing from her. Ryan watched as Esmeralda’s coolness only seemed to stoke her sister’s fury. "Or are you just jealous?" Esmeralda added, her gaze piercing.

Philia’s sputtered response made Ryan raise an eyebrow in disbelief. "No, no! I can’t be jealous of you!" she spluttered, her tanned face reddening with fury as spit sprayed in Esmeralda’s face. "I can’t be, because you are beneath me."

Ryan felt a surge of disgust. He had known Esmeralda was treated poorly but seeing it with his own eyes made it difficult to contain his distaste. Philia’s pettiness and insecurity were laid bare, her desperation to undermine Esmeralda a pitiful display. How had Esmeralda managed to stay so composed all this time, surrounded by family members who belittled and dismissed her?

Esmeralda’s calm, almost pitying look as she replied with a simple, "Alright," made him admire her strength even more. She turned to leave, but Philia’s attention had shifted, her eyes lighting up as she noticed Ryan approaching them down the corridor.

The transformation in Philia’s demeanor was instant. Her anger melted into a sickeningly sweet smile as she strode towards him with exaggerated grace, clearly attempting to enchant him. Ryan felt a pang of irritation; the change was so blatant, so contrived, it was nearly laughable.

Then, in a move that stunned him, Philia threw herself toward him, figuratively and literally flinging herself onto him. "I’m so sorry, Duke Xolotl," she cooed, clinging to him as though she couldn’t bear to let go.

Ryan forced down a grimace, his disgust barely masked as he removed her arms from around him, her flirtatious gaze lost on him entirely. He brushed himself off and turned to Philia, whose lips were pursed in a pout when she realized her attempt to seduce him had failed entirely.

"Your highness," he said with an edge to his voice, "I think it would be wise to start exercising. It would certainly help your stamina." His words cut, and Philia’s face darkened as she fought back her anger.

Ignoring her, Ryan turned to Esmeralda, his expression softening as he caught her surprised gaze. She had been watching, her eyes wide with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, as though she had never seen anyone speak to Philia like that before. The corner of his mouth lifted in a warm smile, and she returned it, a faint blush rising in her cheeks as she accepted his offered hand.

Guiding her to the drawing room, Ryan noted the slight tremor in her fingers, as though she seemed unable to stop the laughter bubbling up inside her. She cast one last glance over her shoulder at Philia, who stood fuming, her face contorted with anger. Esmeralda tried to stifle her laughter, but it broke through, soft and unrestrained, as she and Ryan walked away.

Once inside, Ryan closed the door behind them, his gaze still on Esmeralda, who was now positively glowing with delight. Her laughter faded, and she looked down shyly, unable to meet his eyes. He realized, with a surprising ache in his chest, that he had never seen her so free, so uninhibited. It struck him how seldom she was allowed such moments, how often she had likely swallowed her laughter, hidden her joy, and forced herself to endure her family’s unkindness.

Ryan found himself wanting to protect that laughter, that spark in her eyes. His earlier suspicion that Esmeralda’s family treated her poorly had been confirmed, and it only deepened his resolve. The thought of her being subjected to Philia’s cruelty, her father’s neglect, and the palace’s cold indifference was almost unbearable.

As she looked up at him, a soft smile still gracing her lips, he realized that he wanted to be the one to bring her joy, to see her look at the world with wonder. He had come to respect her quiet resilience, her strength in the face of her family’s scorn. And yet, he saw in her a gentleness that made his heart soften in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

He settled in beside her and started discussing the day’s plans, but his thoughts drifted back to Philia’s biting remarks and the petty malice she had directed at Esmeralda. How could anyone treat Esmeralda with such disdain? Ryan’s respect for her deepened with every small insight he gained into her life. The more he saw, the more he realized just how much she had been forced to endure, and he silently vowed to show her what it meant to be valued, to be cared for, in ways she had likely never experienced.

As they talked, Esmeralda’s shy smiles and soft laughter stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt before. Philia’s disdain was like a poison in the palace walls, but here, with Esmeralda, he felt a warmth, a brightness that made him realize just how far he’d be willing to go to protect her from those who sought to stifle her spirit. And in that moment, he knew that he wanted nothing more than to be the one who could bring her the happiness she so deserved.

“What are you thinking about?” Esme’s soft voice drew Ryan out of his thoughts, grounding him back to the present.

Ryan blinked, glancing over at her. “Nothing important,” he replied, but his eyes lingered on her, as if reassessing what he’d considered to be “important.”

Esme nodded but couldn’t help following up, curiosity brightening her eyes. “How did you come to know Winston and Edna?” She paused, sensing his hesitation. “It’s alright if it’s personal—I don’t mean to intrude.”

“No, that’s not it.” He looked down at his tea, then up at her with a faint smile. “I’d like to tell you. But it’s hard to say when exactly I first met them. I’ve known them all my life.”

As he spoke, Edna re-entered the room, carrying a tray of freshly baked treats. She placed them gently on the table and poured steaming tea from a silver pot. Her face softened with nostalgia as she turned to Esme and lowered her voice in a playful whisper, though Ryan could clearly hear her.

“When we first met this little one, he was only three months old.” She grinned at Ryan, who rolled his eyes in mock exasperation but couldn’t hide his fondness for her. “Oh, he was the cutest baby,” she said, eyes sparkling. “But so quiet! Hardly ever cried. We thought he might be mute! Then one day, when he was about ten months, he surprised us all.”

Esme’s smile widened, intrigued. “What happened?”

Edna laughed, warmth flooding her voice. “A servant had stolen a silver ornament and tried to shift the blame to a poor maid who’d been nearby. Little Ryan had seen the whole thing. We all gathered around, waiting to hear what had happened. And then, out of nowhere, this little fellow pipes up, clear as day: ‘He is a liar.’” She chuckled, glancing at Ryan with pride. “Not a cry, not a fuss—just pure truth. He was always like that, even as a toddler.”

Ryan rubbed the back of his neck, visibly embarrassed but smiling despite himself. “I don’t remember it quite that way…”

“Oh, that’s because you were too busy growing up so fast,” Edna continued, giving him an affectionate pat on the arm. “By the time you were five, you were reading books most adults wouldn’t bother with. Always so observant, too—noticed everything going on around him.”

Winston nodded, his deep voice rumbling with agreement. “The young master, as we used to call him, was something else. He’d sit with his little books or stand by his father, watching him work, and his mind would take everything in.” He shared a glance with Edna, a look of shared memory that Esme found touching. “There was such a calmness in him, even as a child. Always looking out for others, even back then.”

Esme found herself smiling as she listened, feeling a comforting warmth settle around her. She noticed the tenderness in Edna and Winston’s voices as they spoke about Ryan, as if he were a son to them. And she noticed the way Ryan seemed to soften in their presence, his guarded expression giving way to a relaxed familiarity. He stole a glance her way, his eyes searching her face to see if she was comfortable or if she might want to leave, but she gave him an encouraging smile.

As the conversation unfolded, Ryan remained quiet, his usual reserve softened in this cozy setting. Esme could feel his subtle attentiveness toward her, his occasional glances to make sure she was enjoying herself, to see if she needed anything. They spent most of the afternoon reminiscing with Winston and Edna, who delighted in telling stories of their years in service to the Xolotl family.

After several hours, they said their goodbyes. Winston shook Ryan’s hand, clapping his shoulder firmly. Edna hugged him warmly, giving him one last reminder to visit again soon, and gave Esme’s hand a gentle squeeze, her eyes shining.

Walking out of the little shop with Ryan, Esme felt a glowing sense of warmth and connection. She couldn’t help but think that this life, a life shared with such people and with someone like Ryan, might not be such a bad thing after all. As she stepped into the dimming light of the evening, she looked over at him, feeling a quiet sense of gratitude.

Yes, she thought to herself, maybe marrying the Duke wouldn’t be so bad after all.