Two men dressed in the formal attire of the Tempest knights were walking towards them. Their crisp white tunics under smartly tailored dark leather jackets with silver buttons and cuff links looked dashing on both. 

The older of the two, perhaps in his early fifties based on the white streaks in his black beard, walked with a controlled grace and confidence that reminded her of a stalking cat. The blade at his hip was simple and sturdy, unlike the bejeweled one her father wore. A brooch on his chest was etched with a leaping trout. The symbol, clearly a mark of nobility, and his commanding presence identified him as the commander of the Tempest knights, Lord Atwater.

The other was quite possibly the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was much younger than Lord Atwater, but taller with a powerful build. He had turned his head to speak to his commander so she could only see his profile. His short brown hair looked like it was streaked with gold and his full lips had an enticing, faint coral hue. 

Amaryllis was suddenly grateful for all the work that had been put in to make her presentable. Compared to Sir Vincent, as she suspected this knight was, she felt like a donkey next to a pedigree horse.

The knight’s posture stiffened momentarily and Lord Atwater’s brow furrowed. The gap between their two groups was rapidly disappearing. Amaryllis strained to hear what they were saying. 

Her father seemed uninterested though. He kept his pace leisurely and she resigned herself to watching their expressions. 

Were they discussing the trouble her father had caused with the goblins? The battles with the raiders? Or was it something else entirely? 

Vincent sighed and nodded. He turned forwards and his gaze went to her father before shifting to her.

Amaryllis froze when their eyes met. The dark green she remembered sparkled like emeralds in the flickering light from the hundreds of candles that lit the banquet hall. 

Before she could stop herself a small, relieved smile spread across her face, and she thought she saw a brief flicker of something flash in his eyes in response. Amaryllis carefully pressed her lips together. She tried to maintain a calm expression while her heart raced and her hands shook. 

It was him. She was sure of it.

But several heads had turned to quietly watch as the duke and the knight commander met. She couldn’t afford to give anything away. Her father already disliked the Tempest knights. He would only scorn them more if he caught her gaze lingering on any of them and she could already imagine his bellows if she were caught eyeing a former mercenary.

“Your Grace, thank you for hosting such a wonderful banquet,” Lord Atwater gave a genial smile, bowing respectfully to her father while Sir Vincent mirrored the gesture.

“Oh, it’s the least I could do for you and your men,” her father said with the fake welcoming tone she knew all too well. He never sounded quite so warm with the people he actually wanted to meet with.

“I wanted to introduce you to my vice-commander, Sir Vincent,” Lord Atwater patted Vincent’s shoulder fondly. “I’m sure you’ve heard of him by now.”

“But of course. Welcome, Sir Vincent,” Amaryllis could practically hear the cold smile she knew her father had painted on his face. “Please do make yourself comfortable and enjoy the banquet.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.”

Vincent’s face betrayed no emotion as he stared down at the duke. Even with a neutral expression and flat tone, he somehow still came off as cold. Anyone could tell that he disliked the duke and saw little reason to maintain more than the barest minimum of politeness. 

Hoping to cut off the rising tension, Lord Atwater glanced to Amaryllis.

“And who is this young lady behind you?”

His beard hid most of his face, but the crinkles at the corners of his eyes made his smile feel genuine. She allowed herself to give a small smile in return. Not enough to upset her father. Just enough to seem hospitable.

“This is my eldest, Amaryllis,” her father put his hand on her shoulder in what appeared to be a loving gesture. But his bony fingers and signet ring dug into her back in a silent warning to keep her comments short.

“It is an honor to meet you both,” Amaryllis gripped her skirts and gave a shallow curtsy.

 She let her eyes fall to the floor after nervously glancing to her father whose sharp eyes watched her. Now that she was before him, and knew that it was him, she was terrified her father would find out. Amaryllis slowly lifted her head. A flush crept up her neck and cheeks as she struggled to find an appropriate place to look.

“You seem tired, my dear. It must have been too early to have you come out since you just got over your cold,” her father lowered his hand to her back, discretely pinching her and causing her shoulders to hunch. “Perhaps you should retire.”

“By your leave then. Please enjoy the rest of your evening, sirs.”

Amaryllis looked up at the two knights, hoping that they weren’t offended. Lord Atwater eyed her curiously, but Vincent’s unwavering stare set her nerves on end. 

Did he find her lacking? Did he believe the excuse she was sick? Or did he not care at all? He had risen well above his former station. Perhaps he didn’t want to be reminded of the times he’d been nothing more than a commoner. 

Unable to discern what he was thinking she took a small, nervous step back. Her father dropped his hand, releasing her into the crowd.

“She’s been rather frail since losing her mother at a young age,” he said with a forlorn sigh. “And then her stepmother followed not long after.”

The viscount’s reply was lost as they moved away. Amaryllis walked to the doors that led to the shortest path to the annex. When she reached the door, she felt a stare and glanced over her shoulder. No one seemed to be paying her any mind. She started to turn back when dark green eyes caught her and pinned her in place. 

Amaryllis tried to decipher just what he was thinking behind that neutral expression. Why did his gaze still linger on her when there were so many other far more beautiful women in the room? Even from this distance she could see a few vying for the attention of him and other comely knights beside him. 

Was he merely curious about the lord’s reclusive eldest? Or was it something else?

Seizing on a bit of desperation she tilted her head to the side and openly stared back, trying desperately to see if there was some sign, any sign, that he knew her. That she wasn’t mistaken as she was now starting to fear. 

His brow furrowed ever so slightly. Please be right, she silently prayed before mouthing “annex garden” then blushed at her uncharacteristically bold behavior. He responded with a small nod. 

All the tension from her body seemed to fade and her shoulders sagged in relief. Embarrassed that he’d seen her reaction she fled before she could see his expression change, fearing she’d find confusion or scorn.

 ---

The heat in her cheeks had faded by the time she reached the annex. The walk wasn’t far, but the early spring night was chilly. More than enough to cool her down. Amaryllis wrapped her arms around herself and returned to her room as quickly as she could.

“Did you enjoy yourself, my lady?”

Her nursemaid rose from the small chair just outside her chambers and set down the mending she’d been working on. She held the door open to usher Amaryllis inside.

“It was a bit loud,” she replied as she walked to her dressing room.

“That’s to be expected with so many knights,” the woman clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “They do tend to get rowdy since His Grace is so generous with the wine. The girls were already tittering about their flirtations. I’m glad you’re safe from such things with your father at your side.”

“Yes, everyone was respectful.”

 Amaryllis reassured the woman, knowing she was barely listening. Her nursemaid had originally been her mother’s nursemaid and had followed her to the duchy after her marriage. Sometimes Amaryllis wondered if her mother also tuned out Sally’s unending chatter or if she had avidly listened. Even when things got repetitive.

After her mother’s passing the woman had treated Amaryllis with affection in her own way. She wasn’t someone she could think of as a motherly presence though. More of a stifling one. 

Her nursemaid tended to like the sound of her own voice and believed her lectures to be right. Sometimes they were. Most times they were her opinions and she only seemed to grow more vocal with each passing year.

With the older woman’s help she was able to escape from the heavy dress and tight corset. She slipped on a light chemise and sat at her dressing table. Her nursemaid pulled out pin after pin from her hair while Amaryllis removed the jewelry. Their combined efforts had her free of her adornments in less than an hour. She rolled her shoulders and let out a contended sigh.

“It’s a bit chilly so I took out one of your thicker night dresses,” her nursemaid pointed to the ankle length dress on the bed as she gathered the banquet attire into her arms. “I shall see you in the morning, my lady. Sleep well.”

“You too,” Amaryllis said.

Once the door clicked shut, she relaxed. Her nursemaid had the habit of prattling on for hours and hours. She was glad she didn’t have to worry about being held up for too long. 

Amaryllis fingered the soft muslin before pulling it on. The nightdress was simple and could be described as elegant, but really it was simply lacking. Her normal attire was made largely out of leftover fabrics from Veronica’s dresses or from plain fabrics with little embellishment. Hardly what one would think of when they imagined the beloved daughter of a duke. 

Amaryllis bit her lip as she suddenly regretted her bold words to Vincent. She prayed that the darkness would hide her humble garments. Or that he’d assume she’d dressed modestly to not draw attention should they be spotted.

It was too late to regret that now though. The request had been made and he had accepted. She wouldn’t dare to not go meet him. Even if he wasn’t the boy who had saved her, he was an honorable knight who had come to defend her home. While she knew she was lacking in many areas she would never be so disgraceful as to disrespect a hero like that.

With her resolve firmly, if a bit shakily, in place she hurried to get ready. Amaryllis rifled through her bureau to find an appropriate robe. She selected a dark blue one that at least had some modest embroidery along the collar and hood. It was better than the ones with nothing. Her nursemaid had a skilled hand with stitching so at least the pattern looked nice.

She put it on and moved to the mirror. Thankfully her curls had been well tamed earlier and were still behaving. Freed from their many braids they know fell gently down her back. She briefly debated on trying to style them again but decided against it. She wasn’t confident in her abilities, fearing she would only make them look unruly with her efforts. 

Amaryllis twisted from side to side to check her reflection. Not too bad overall. The dark of the evening should be sufficient to hide any flaws.

Amaryllis snuffed out the candles in her dressing room and bedroom before creeping to the door. She relied more on memory than sight to navigate. For once her relatively small chambers worked in her favor as she only managed to bump her knee once. The small thud got no response from the hall, giving her a bit more confidence. 

She pressed her ear to the door and listened. The annex didn’t have many staff on a normal day. With the banquet in full swing most of the servants had been pulled to the main building for the next few days. 

Still, she didn’t want to risk getting caught.

After several minutes of silence, she decided it was safe to open the door. She grasped the handle and took a deep breath to center herself. Once something resembling a state of calm had settled over her, she touched on the new sense that had awakened last year. The mana stored in the core beside her heart responded immediately.