Sir Lisandro, as it seemed, stood from the dark leather couch and turned to her. He was an agreeable man, his dark brown eyes were beautiful against his golden skin tone, and his black hair was neatly groomed and short. His smile was also quite pretty, revealing dimples on either side of his cheeks. He was about her height, and his build was rather lean.

“Hello Lady Rocío,” he said as he met her halfway. 

Rocío nodded, “It’s an honour to meet you Sir Lisandro,” she curtsied.

“Please,” he said, “There’s no need to curtsy.” He took her gloved hand and raised it. “But I’d like to say the same. It’s an honour to meet you, my Lady–is it alright to address you as such?”

No, it’s not, she echoed in her mind. “Of course,” she lied through her smile. “My father told me that you wished to meet me.”

“Yes,” he nodded as he walked her to the couch, only letting go of her hand once she’d sat down. He then turned and took his seat across from her. 

Rocío raised her hand and a maid came in with a tray of tea and pastries. She set the pastries on the table and an empty tea pot, a tea on the side and a pot of hot water. 

“Do you like tea?” Rocío asked as she looked up at Lisandro. 

Lisandro nodded. “Yes, my favourite is Earl Grey, what’s yours?” He raised an eyebrow as he settled back on the seat.

Rocío noted his golden pocket watch that peaked out of one of his vest’s pockets. She further noticed the arraignment of rings on the man's fingers. He looked quite wealthy and seemed to like showing off. Rocío wondered how many of those were from his winnings and how many he had bet. 

“I prefer herbal teas, I must admit the bitterness of black teas does not appeal to me. I will be serving you strawberry tea, are you alright with that?” She asked as she placed the dried strawberries into the beautifully crafted blue and white teapot. She didn’t even wait for his response to begin pouring the water.

“Anything that you make for me will be splendid, I’m certain,” his reply was swift.

After Rocío had finished pouring the water, she set the pot aside and closed the teapot to let it steep for a while. “I hear you are to inherit your father’s title,” she thought to make conversation.

Lisandro nodded as he crossed his legs. “You are well informed,” he seemed to jest for his tone was a tad bit sarcastic. “I also hear your father treasures you dearly.”

Rocío’s smile twitched. “Is that what the people are saying?”

“Of course, why else would he keep you far from events? I can tell why he kept you well hidden, you are a sight to behold.” 

Rocío raised an eyebrow. “Well, it seems you came out on top of my suitor list. You must’ve made quite the impact on my father.”

His thin lips stretched into a smug grin, one Rocío wanted to wipe off his face. “Well, what can I say? I have a way with words.”

“Really?” She tilted her head. “Are you a poet?” She questioned.

He furrowed his brows. “I wouldn’t call myself one, no,” he laughed. “Poets can be a dreadful bunch.”

“Then, how, if I may inquire, did you catch my father’s attention? Surely you must’ve done something grand.” She fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

He laughed again. “Well, I do quite like politics and it seemed your father and I got along.”

“Politics? What aspect?” She prodded. She didn’t want to leave room for him to weave around her like a serpent boa. 

Lisandro raised a dark eyebrow and his smile dropped. “Does the lady enjoy speaking about politics?” 

Rocío nodded. “Quite so,” she smiled. “I think it’s important that all the citizens of Veridis are up to date with the political climate, especially with the recent civil war.”

Lisandro eyed her as she moved forwards and began to pour the tea, a cup for him and a cup for herself. 

“I hope the tea is to your liking,” she said as she pushed the tea towards him.

Lisandro’s smile had returned, almost as if it had never left in the first place. “Thank you,” he spoke with a cheery tone.

“I’m quite curious,” Rocío said after she’d taken a sip of the hot tea, “were you part of the civil war?” She asked as she lowered her teacup. 

He mirrored her actions. “Yes, I was a part of Marquis Félix’s squadron.”

Rocío’s eyes widened.

Lisandro laughed, “Is it that impressive?” Again, that smug smirk was back.

Rocío cleared her throat. “I apologize, I was caught off-guard.” Maybe it was best not to have said anything.

“It’s quite alright, a lot of women react the same when I tell them.” There was a cocky glint in his eye. “However,” he frowned, “I don’t keep in touch with the Lion of Emer anymore, his title has gotten to his head.”

“Is it true he’s as ruthless as they say?” Rocío asked. She wanted to know more about the Marquis, inside and outside of the battlefield. Whatever little information she gathered would help her build a report on him, see what he likes and dislikes and what would drive him to kill.

“Ruthless?” Lisandro scoffed. “That would be a grave understatement. He’s a monster.”

“A monster?” She echoed. 

“The look on his face when he would kill, quite uncanny, as if he were no more than a lifeless puppet.”

The eyes of the Marquis in her dream flashed in her mind and goosebumps formed over her skin. Her fists clenched and she suppressed a shiver that spread through the body. 

“The man is out of his mind,” Lisandro took another sip of the tea. “It’s a surprise he has yet to go on a rampage. The King sure has his leash quite tight,” he laughed again, his laughs before had been light hearted and short, but this one was different, as if the entirety of what he said was somehow hilarious or meant to humiliate the Marquis.

Rocío remained silent as she drank her tea.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the intention behind this meeting,” Lisandro then changed the subject, uncrossing his legs and sitting up straight. 

“My father informed me, yes,” she nodded as she set her empty teacup on the table. 

His smile returned, and again he sized her up. “I think we’d make a formidable couple, your beauty and my astuteness.”

Rocío held back a look of disgust and raised an eyebrow. 

He leaned back, stretching his arm over the couch behind him. “I am an accomplished man, the war left me with a good amount of riches, I will be inheriting the title of Viscount, and I am an excellent archer. You’d have no need  for anything. I’ll take good care of you and provide you with a seizable allowance. I know how you noblewomen have a taste for expensive things. What do you say?”

“What did he offer?” She asked.

“Who?” His smile faltered for a millisecond, Rocío would have missed it had she not been paying close attention. 

“My father, of course.” Rocío picked up a pastry, taking a bite of the crunchy tart.

He blinked, long lashes fluttering. “I don’t know what you mean?”

“Really?” She set the rest of the pastry aside. “So you’re not at all interested in my dowry?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled awkwardly.

“Then I am to assume you simply fell for me at the debut ball? And somehow, you think that the heir of a Viscount could sway my heart?”

His eyes narrowed on her.

Rocío leaned back on the couch and crossed her arms over her chest. “You pride yourself on your success, yes?”

He eyed her.

“You spoke of the riches you gained in the war and how you were in the same band of knights as the Marquis de Valentina, yet…I don’t see a single emerald on you.” It was her turn to offer a smug smile.

Lisandro’s jaw clenched and he stared her down.

“My understanding was that all those that aided in the civil war received two emeralds along with fair compensation. And those that worked alongside the Marquis received several emeralds. And yet, you wear none.” Her smile dropped. “Why is that?”

Linsandro took a deep breath and smiled again. “I didn’t exactly wish to parade them.”

“Is that so…” She pursed her lips to the side. “But you are drowned in silver and a few gold pieces, why not wear your most prized possessions?” She tilted her head. “I simply want to understand.”

“I do not carry them for personal reasons. You aren’t wearing a single one either and I am not attacking you over it.”

Rocío sighed. “You may be right, but I am in my own home, I am not wanting to swoon a lady with a good dowry, and the entire kingdom knows my father acquired nearly all of House Emer’s emeralds, and I am certain you saw my sister wear El Corazón on the day of her debut. In fact, I wonder if you asked for my sister’s hand first and my Father thought you were rather unworthy, so you moved your eyes to me. Am I right in saying this?”

His beautiful chocolate eyes were starting to fill with rage as his face twisted in anger, his brows furrowed together and his gaze became murderous. “What are you implying?”

Rocío shrugged. “Nothing that isn’t already true. Plus, your love of donating to the ponies is no secret.”

 Lisandro shot up from his seat, knocking over his half empty teacup and spilling the red liquid on the table. “I will not tolerate your–”

“–Mother is–” The door opened suddenly and in the doorway stood a stunned Santiago and a slightly perplexed Marquis Félix. “Oh, I didn’t realize this was the wrong drawing room, sorry to have interrupted…”

Félix looked between Lisandro and Rocío in silence.

Rocío stood from her seat. “Worry not, brother dearest, we were just about done, weren’t we, Sir Lisandro?” She turned to the man.

He was red with most likely a mix of embarrassment and ire. He cleared his throat and fixed his vest and hair, after cleaning his hand with a handkerchief. “Lady Rocío is right,” he smiled again. “I patiently await our next meeting,” he said before taking her hand–without having her offer it–and setting a kiss on it. “I look forward to it.”

Rocío drew all her courage to stay silent and nod. 

“Farewell, my lady,” he bowed, again with that smug grin. 

Rocío snatched her hand back and looked away. It was taking every fibre of her being to stay calm.

Lisandro left the room with curt goodbyes to the two gentlemen that still stood by the door. There was a silence for what seemed like an eternity to Rocío until Santiago reached her. 

“You alright?” He asked.

“Aside from the part where I should’ve slapped him? Yes, I’m alright.”

Santiago sighed. “I can go and fight him, Rosie, you need just say the word.”

Rocío smiled and laughed a little. “It’s alright, I don’t think he’ll be back for a while.” Then she wrapped her arm around her brother’s and they walked back towards the door. “Did you come in on purpose?” She asked.

Santiago offered a cheeky smile and Rocío laughed again, covering her mouth.

During Elena’s debut ball, she was unable to get a good look at Marquis Félix. Sure, she’d noticed he was handsome but seeing him before her when her mind wasn’t falling apart was different. His face in her dreams was soot and blood smeared, the light of the fire behind him never allowed her to see his high cheekbones, and the two beauty marks on his face, one on each of his cheeks. His nose was delicate and slightly upturned, bringing a soft and youthful look to his face. His eyes were rather set in and his lower lids were quite red, almost as if he’d had trouble sleeping, but oddly enough it made him look more handsome. His eyebrows were dark, thick and straight, and his bottom lip was fuller than his top lip. His hair looked soft and had a beautiful shine to it, it fell in soft waves to just above his shoulders and his jawline was sharp, but overall he had rather beautiful features.

“Marquis,” she finally greeted with a curtsy, “thank you for your help that day.” 

“It’s nothing,” he cleared his throat.

When Rocío looked up at him she’d noticed something she could never have imagined. The Marquis’ ears were as red as a ripe strawberry. Was he blushing?