Chapter 4
1081 Words
Draven's POV
“She wouldn’t touch the milk, and the cookies.” Jasper informed “Same goes to the dress and flowers,”
My fingers drummed once against the mahogany armrest, beside me lay the marriage certificate. It was unsigned and I intend to keep it that way.
A cold smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I had spent the last year tracing Darius Vale's illegal shipments of black-market ores through the Sylvara ports.
Desperate men made reckless choices, but not reckless enough to hand over their treasured daughter to the one man capable of dragging them to the gallows.
This marriage existed because my father wanted an alliance. Without his signature, the proposal would have burned in my fireplace years ago.
I rose from my chair.
“Let’s see how long this little actress can stay on stage. Call her. We shall have breakfast together.”
“Yes, My Lord.” Jasper bowed once and walked out.
Distance was no longer an option. To uncover what she was hiding, I needed to stay close enough to see every c***k.
I was already at the table when she entered. The oversized gown hung loosely on her frame, though not enough to conceal the curves beneath it.
She lingered at the doorway for a moment before forcing herself to walk toward me.
She was beautiful, but not in the polished way noblewomen usually were. Her skin had known sunlight, her hands were not soft enough, and there was strength in her posture
“Sit,” I commanded in a low tone.
She sank into the chair across from me. Her eyes moved over the table, lingering too long on the rows of silverware laid beside each plate. Uncertain which utensil to pick.
I took my fork first.
A second later, she picked up the same one.
Her movements stayed careful after that. She watched me between quiet glances as she copied the way I held the utensils and cut into the steak.
Interesting.
“You seem out of sorts, Liora,” I said, lifting my cup. “Is the manor not to your liking?”
“I... I am fine, My Lord,” she whispered.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the fork.
“Perhaps it is only stress.”
“A pity. You’ll need your energy.” I finally looked at her, letting my stare settle on her until she looked away.
“A ball is being prepared to celebrate your arrival. I’ve sent word to Arkwell. Your 'friends' and family will be arriving in a few days to see you properly settled.”
She froze. A piece of bread stopped halfway to her mouth.
“Friends?” she managed to say.
“Indeed. Surely you haven't forgotten Lady Elena or the young Marquess?” I watched the colour drain from her face.
“Ye… yes, I would love to see them again,” she said. Her voice cracked, even as she tried to steady it.
She lowered her gaze and quickly cut another piece of steak, eating faster than before.
“So what's your favourite thing to do,” I asked.
“Y…you've probably been told,” she spoke with a stuffy mouth.
“I want to hear it from you.”
Her fingers tightened around the fork. She swallowed hard.
“Uhm… Fresh croissants, music. Hills where I could watch the world from.”
Her voice softened. For a moment, she didn't sound guarded.
“Then why don’t you live as you want?”
Her lips parted. Nothing came out at first.
Then, quieter.
“Because…” Her grip tightened on the fork. “I am a noble girl. I have very little chance to do what I want.” The rest of the meal was eaten in silence.
Later in the day
I watched her from above the gallery as the tailor I had summoned wrapped the measuring tape around her.
“What colour would you like for the dress, my lady?” He questioned, holding a small jotter and a pen.
“Uhm…” I watched her bite the lower part of her lip. “Make it blue,”
“What type of blue, my lady,”
Liora blinked, shrugging her shoulders. “Any blue would do,”
“What a noble lady she is,” I thought, narrowing my eyes.
“Make it a royal blue,” I said from the gallery.
Liora looked up toward the gallery, startled to find me watching her.
“And the fabric, My Lady?”
Silence stretched again.
Her eyes drifted toward the shelves as though the answer might be waiting there.
“Velvet would suit you well,” the tailor offered carefully.
Relief flashed across her face before she hid it. “Yes,” she said quickly. “Velvet.”
He pulled several sketches from his leather case and spread them across the table.
“Which design would you prefer?”
She stared at them far too carefully before pointing at one near the centre.
It wasn't the most expensive nor the boldest. It was too simple.
The tailor packed away his things and bowed. “I shall return before evening with the dress you desire, My Lady.”
She nodded once.
The moment he left, her shoulders loosened with quiet relief. She tensed up when she saw that I was looking at her.
Her fingers twisted tightly against the fabric near her waist when she noticed me watching from above.
I descended the staircase slowly. Each step echoed through the quiet hall.
By the time I reached the bottom, her shoulders had already stiffened.
“You look nervous,” I said, stopping a few feet away. “Is this your first ball?”
A small laugh escaped her too quickly.
“Of course not.” She lifted her chin slightly. “I attended many balls growing up. I even hosted a few back at home.”
Her fingers brushed through her hair in a careless motion that looked far too practised.
“I am hardly unfamiliar with noble gatherings.”
Interesting.
A faint smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.
What a pretty liar she is.
I stepped closer.
She nearly flinched before catching herself.
Fear flashed briefly across her face before she buried it beneath another polite smile.
“Good,” I said quietly.
Then I moved past her.
“Try not to disappoint me tonight.”
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