Kaelen watched as Riven finally walked off with her maid, the latter waving eagerly to the young duke. He managed to maintain his smile until they were out of sight, and then it slipped away, leaving him alone with the fading warmth of her presence and a lingering sense of unease.

He hadn’t anticipated her perceptiveness, the sharpness of her gaze cutting through his practiced charm. Riven’s question about the goddess had nearly undone him; he had suspected that she knew more about his past than she let on, but for her to so accurately see to the heart of the matter…

It left him rattled in a way he hadn’t been in years.

Kaelen turned, his steps slow and deliberate as he left the park, thoughts spinning with the memory of her gaze. Clear, steady, and somehow both suspicious and… compassionate. It was unsettling, that mixture, as if she saw through him while still holding out some kind of unspoken grace. He wasn’t used to it; most people, noble or otherwise, saw only what he wanted them to see, the practiced mask he wore without fail. But Riven had questioned him directly, not with malice, but with something softer, a sort of tentative acceptance he hadn’t expected.

It was that gentleness that lingered most, surprising him more than her knowledge about the goddess, more than her fierce determination. After all, her life as a noble woman meant she was likely well acquainted with games and secrecy, and he assumed she’d play her own role accordingly. But there, in that quiet moment under the budding spring trees, she’d been unexpectedly honest. Her wish for a simple life, the way she spoke of peace, made him wonder what she truly hoped to find here. What exactly was she running from?

He exhaled slowly, his gaze distant as he reached the edge of the park. “You can stop following me now, Elias.”

A faint rustle sounded from the trees nearby, and Elias stepped out, his expression carefully neutral as he approached. His arms were crossed, and a hint of a smirk played on his lips as he gave Kaelen a once-over, though his gaze held a reserved sharpness.

“Were you merely doing your job as my knight,” Kaelen started, finding this dance much easier to deal with. “Or were you concerned that I may take your future wife from you, Lord Vaeldor?”

“You know my answer to that,” Elias answered clearly, and Kaelen chuckled, shaking his head.

“I suppose I do. You have been very vocal about how much you hate that name,” Kaelen motioned for Elias to follow him, and Elias fell into step beside him, his expression remaining steady, though his jaw tightened at the familiar taunt. Kaelen could sense his irritation,a faint crack in Elias’s usual stoic demeanor and it amused him more than he’d admit. “Did you find proof?”

“Yes, the former princess has definitely returned to the empire, and it seems she is intent on reclaiming her birthright,” Elias confirmed and Kaelen merely nodded, hating how familiar it all was. Even if her methods were different, he knew how Calia felt all too well. “She considers you and your family a wildcard.”

“As any smart monarch would,” Kaelen dismissed, noting the knight’s deliberate calm as he spoke. Elias was more tightly wound than usual, his voice smooth yet carrying a note of tension that didn’t escape Kaelen’s notice. Kaelen continued walking, his pace leisurely as they moved through the quiet streets bordering the park. “I’ll wait to see what she does. I have no interest in getting involved in Vassoria’s politics if I can help it.”

“Then why did you ask for Lady Riven’s hand?” Elias’s simple question made Kaelen pause walking, turning to face the knight with a careful, measured gaze. Kaelen’s expression shifted slightly, though he kept his tone light.

“Why indeed.”

***

By the time Riven and Noela returned home, Riven wanted nothing more than to collapse into her bed and try to shake off the strange feelings lingering from her walk with Kaelen. The warmth of his hand holding hers, the unguarded look in his eyes… It was as though he’d peeled back a layer of that carefully practiced charm, letting her glimpse something raw, something unexpectedly real.

But as they entered the familiar halls of her family estate, reality settled back around her, solid and weighty, reminding her of the fragile nature of any fondness she might feel. Her life was on the line; one wrong step could be the difference between securing her safety or losing everything.

“Did you enjoy your time with Lord Kaelen, my lady?” Noela’s voice broke into her thoughts, her tone as light as her expression was expectant.

Riven forced a smile, lifting her chin as if her confidence hadn’t been shaken in the slightest. “It was... enlightening.”

Noela’s eyes sparkled with amusement, clearly aware of the intentional vagueness. “Well, I’d wager Lord Kaelen would say the same. He seemed taken with you.”

“Yes, well,” Riven’s voice softened, a touch thoughtful as she glanced down the hall. “Things aren’t always as they seem, Noela. Lord Kaelen is hiding more secrets than a shadowed forest at midnight.”

Before the pair could reach Riven’s room, she was surprised to see her mother’s servants standing outside her room, talking with one of the other maids. As soon as they noticed her however, the hurried manner in which they approached her only made Riven’s heart sink. So much for relaxing.

“Riven, your mother is looking for you.”

“Lead the way,” Riven sighed wearily, waving Noela off to join the other maids. The head maid seemed hesitant, but quickly nodded, leaving Riven to follow the servants toward the drawing room, her heart sinking with a familiar heaviness. It was not a good sign if the servants were this eager to get her to Lady Marlowe; something must have happened while she was gone and it couldn’t be something good.

Stepping into the drawing room, Riven found her mother standing by the window, her gaze distant as she looked out over the estate grounds. Lady Marlowe turned as Riven entered, her eyes narrowing slightly, a hint of both worry and reproach flickering across her expression.

“Mother,” Riven greeted, inclining her head respectfully. She tried to mask her nerves, slipping into the calm, unbothered demeanor she’d perfected over the years.

“Sit, Riven,” Lady Marlowe said, gesturing to one of the chairs opposite her. Her voice held an edge, the kind that hinted at a conversation Riven wouldn’t soon forget. She obeyed, perching on the edge of the chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she waited for her mother to speak.

For a long, tense moment, her mother simply watched her, studying her with a gaze that felt as though it could see past every layer of calm Riven wore. Then, Lady Marlowe finally spoke.

“Riven,” she began, her voice low, controlled. “What is it that you’re doing to gain the favor of the Marquess of Vaeldor’s son?”

Riven blinked, genuinely taken aback by the question. “I haven’t even met Marquess Vaeldor’s son. I don't even know his name.”

Lady Marlowe sighed, clearly not satisfied with the answer as she studied Riven with a wary intensity, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Then why has his father doubled his offer for your hand?”

The words landed with the weight of a hammer, each syllable striking Riven with a new wave of confusion and disbelief. Marquess Vaeldor was doubling his offer? Why now, so soon after Kaelen had also approached her father with a lucrative offer for her? Had the Marquess gotten wind of the duke's offer and was willing to do whatever it took to make sure it was his son who got her?

‘At least Kaelen is somewhat genuine in his offer,’ Riven mentally scoffed. Marquess Vaeldor’s son hadn’t even so much as tried to approach her or get to know her, and she had no intention of making herself more of a mark to Calia. The best she could do for now was lay low and hope that Calia realized that she was insignificant in her political game.

Lady Marlowe’s gaze bore into her, assessing, waiting for a response that would somehow justify the marquess’s sudden, heightened interest. But Riven was still reeling, her mind scrambling to process the implications of her mother’s words. Why would a man she’d never met—someone who hadn’t even attempted to approach her personally—push so hard for her hand?

Riven straightened, meeting her mother’s gaze with as much calm as she could muster. “I swear to you, Mother, I haven’t done anything to draw Marquess Vaeldor’s attention to me. He may simply feel threatened that you and father are considering someone else more seriously than him.”

Lady Marlowe finally seemed to accept Riven’s excuse, her posture softening, though her gaze remained sharp. “I want to believe you, Riven. But you must be careful—there are few in Vassoria who would push this hard without an ulterior motive.”

“Of course, Mother, I understand.” Riven's voice was calm, her words careful, but beneath it all, a determined resolve took shape. “I'll take caution in everything I do.”

Lady Marlowe studied her for a moment longer, the hint of satisfaction crossing her features before she allowed herself to relax fully, her hand resting lightly on Riven’s shoulder. "Very well, then. We’ll speak to your father tonight. In the meantime, avoid any encounters with the Marquess, should he attempt to speak with you. I would not put it past him to try to arrange something unsupervised."

Riven gave her mother a small nod, grateful for the advice despite her own inner confidence. As her mother finally dismissed her from the room, Riven released a slow, steady breath, alone with her thoughts once more. At least through all of this, she had Elias fighting for her to have her own way out, a way that didn’t involve marriage at all.

“I wish I could have an easy night,” Riven spoke without thinking, covering her mouth as soon as she was enveloped in the silver glow. She immediately found herself standing on her bed, Myelia smiling up at her mischievously.

“Be careful what you wish for, little one.”