11
342 Words
Vera lifted her chin, her gaze sweeping coolly over the assembled guests, her voice clear and tinged with haughty calm:
"I’ve never cared for Derek. He’s the one who clings to me, insisting on marrying me by force. If he actually shows up at the Duke’s estate today and finds no one waiting for him, perhaps he’ll finally take the hint and leave me be."
"Exactly, that’s how it is!"
"I agree, the Fourth Prince isn’t worthy of Lady Vera at all."
"Naturally—not only is she the Duke of Aldrich’s only daughter, but her beauty and noble blood are beyond compare. Only a true king could ever hope to match her."
The mood around the table grew livelier, voices of support echoing. But Seraphina, tense, kept her eyes fixed on the garden entrance, nervously twisting her fingers in her skirt.
"Actually… I think Prince Derek might not be entirely without merit…" Seraphina’s voice trailed off, growing softer as the words left her lips.
A noblewoman turned to her in surprise, but before she could respond, the sharp sound of hooves rang out from beyond the garden gate.
Every head turned in unison.
Derek Aldrich, dressed in crimson regalia and astride a black stallion, appeared at the entrance—blood at the corner of his mouth, his expression stormy, his clothes bearing fresh traces of battle. Had he been punished by the Duke?
The young ladies all rose and curtsied.
"Your Highness, the Fourth Prince."
Vera turned just in time, locking eyes with Derek—her expression unwavering, ice-cool.
"We are not a match," Vera said, her voice unwavering and firm.
Derek swung down from his horse, movements fluid and predatory. In a few strides, he closed the distance between them, seizing Vera’s wrist and pressing his forehead to hers, his golden eyes blazing.
His voice was low, rough, utterly resolute.
"If I say we’re a match—then we are."
For a heartbeat, time froze. In the garden, only the sound of their mingled heartbeats seemed to fill the air.
- Writer
