SECRET ELOPEMENT

LADY OF THE HOUSE

The house lay cloaked in darkness, the first light of dawn still a distant promise. Having foregone her own dinner to tend to her unexpected guest, Kariyah's stomach grumbled with hunger.

Darius couldn't help but feel a twinge of panic as he watched Kariyah march determinedly towards the kitchen, her hunger driving her forward. This woman, who had slept upon the knee of a stranger, inquired about his preferences for stew, and now proceeded to tend to her own needs without hesitation.

'Would you extend such kindness even to a stranger?' he couldn't help but wonder, his voice tinged with both admiration and incredulity.

The rhythmic sounds of chopping vegetables and the bubbling melody of boiling water reached Darius's ears, confirming that Kariyah was indeed preparing stew. With little else to do, he remained seated by the comforting warmth of the fireplace, his thoughts wandering as he awaited her return.

Before long, Kariyah emerged from the kitchen, bearing...

"It really is stew," Darius mumbled under his breath.

The sight of the freshly made, steaming stew tantalized Darius's senses, nearly eliciting a primal response. Crafted by Kariyah's own hands, the dish, while lacking the refinement expected of noble fare, possessed an undeniable allure. Though it may not have met the standards befitting a Duke, it held a simple goodness that surpassed expectations.

Kariyah tilted her head in puzzlement, her expression betraying her confusion at his words.

"So that means there's such a thing as fake stew?"

"That's not quite what I intended to imply,"

Despite his best efforts, Darius found himself unable to maintain his silence, though he grappled with the notion that conversing further with her seemed increasingly untenable given her demeanor.

"Excuse me miss."

"I'm not a 'miss'. i got married not too long ago." Kariyah answered neatly.

Darius peered into the interior of the house, his thoughts swirling with confusion. It was evident that Kariyah lived alone, yet she had claimed to be married. The question lingered in his mind: What on earth was her husband doing, if not here?

With a resigned shrug, Darius observed as Kariyah, sensing his reluctance to partake in the stew, placed his portion by the fireplace.

Then, she stood back up began eating her food with a carefree attitude.

The meat and vegetables disappeared one by one into her small mouth.

"What are you doing....?"

"The only chair was taken by my guest."

"That's not what i.. huuu, do you know where we are?"

According to the gossipmongers lurking in the shadowy corners of the back alleys, this place was the last vestige of Duke Bloodmoon's estate. In his estimation, it was Kariyah who was the uninvited guest, not himself.

"Of course. Is this not the Duke's villa?"

"So you know this is a house without an owner..?"

"Sorry, but i'm now the owner of this place.."

His dark eyebrows arched in surprise, prompting Kariyah to provide a clear response to his question, sensing his confusion.

"Well that's because i became the Duke's wife. Therefore making me Duchess bloodmoon and now the lady of the house."

To outsiders, it might have appeared inconsequential, but to Kariyah, the title of villa owner held profound significance. With rightful ownership bestowed upon her, she could finally find solace and respite within its walls.

It was only in that moment that the pieces of the puzzle fell into place for Darius. The nanny and his vassals had collaborated in their relentless interrogation regarding his marital status, a nuisance exacerbated by his prolonged absence on the battlefield.

His nanny proved to be the most persistent of all, incessantly haranguing him about trivial matters such as the complexities of courtship and the hesitations of potential suitors. Her relentless nagging left him little choice but to acquiesce when a marriage proposal finally arrived.

...Was her name Jasia Mason?

He might have caught a glimpse of her once, but his recollection of her remained hazy. They had never exchanged words before, so he certainly hadn't anticipated her peculiar demeanor.

As he mulled over his earlier question about her supposed husband, Darius's reputation as a stern but fair leader came to mind. He ruled his domain with an iron fist, showing no mercy to his foes while fiercely protecting those under his care. Renowned for his prowess both on the battlefield and in scholarly pursuits, Darius was a man of exceptional skill and striking beauty, seemingly commanding the very orbit of the world around him.

For these very reasons, Darius had never found himself truly captivated by anyone before. The belated realization of this woman's identity left him feeling somewhat embarrassed, as if he had missed a crucial piece of the puzzle all along.

"Wait a moment. That means you...!"

He halted midsentence, his words trailing off as a wave of pain engulfed his body upon raising his head. With a resigned sigh, Darius eased himself back into the chair, a grimace of discomfort etching itself onto his features.

"Tch!" he muttered under his breath, clicking his tongue in frustration. This humbling ordeal felt utterly foreign to him, a renowned swordmaster reduced to a mere prisoner, confined to a rocking chair.

Kariyah's unwavering gaze bore into him, her eyes as clear as crystal gems revealing neither pity nor scorn. An unsettling sensation washed over Darius as he observed her expression, prompting him to instinctively shield the site of his stab wound with his calloused hands, keenly aware of her scrutiny.

" ...you must know who i am yes?"

He eventually completed his sentence, his mind wrestling with the revelation that she lived alone. Initially, he had dismissed her as a common woman or perhaps a noble lady. Her behavior had led him to suspect she might be fabricating her circumstances to drive him away.

Yet, her demeanor suggested she remained unaware of his true identity as a traitor. However, if she truly was his wife, she would undoubtedly recognize his appearance, particularly his distinctive green eyes, a telltale sign of his royal lineage.

With a nod, Kariyah absentmindedly held a wooden spoon between her lips, her attention momentarily diverted. In a sudden realization, she found her bowl devoid of even a single drop of stew. When had she managed to consume it all?

Darius furrowed his brow once more, sensing the conversation veering off course. The stew, however, was not intended to be the focal point of their discussion.

"Aren't you admitting that too easily? You're going to be the traitor's accomplice."

"Hm..I guess that's true. Would you like some stew?"

"...Why are you asking me that?"

"You're not going to eat what I brought you?" Kariyah inquired, her voice tinged with a hint of concern. Clearly, her stomach wasn't bottomless, prompting her to return his stew to the kitchen.

In her absence, Darius contemplated speaking up once more, but he found himself weary of posing further questions.

"What are you going to do with that.."

"I'm pretty sure you have quite the cut on your stomach."

As Kariyah had observed, fresh blood continued to seep through his shirt from the wound, a sobering reminder of the urgency of his condition. Despite the rumors swirling around him, branding him as a traitor, Kariyah harbored a fervent desire for his survival.

Even if the allegations against him proved true, she knew that her actions and her compassion could not be undone. She silently hoped that, once he recovered, he would choose to flee. However, she remained open to the possibility of providing him sanctuary if needed. For now, her priority was to tend to his wounds and aid in his healing.

Approaching him with determination, Kariyah knelt beside the chair, her steady hands unhesitatingly rolling up his shirt, determined to address the injury beneath.

The slightest movement to adjust his clothing sent a jolt of agony coursing through Darius's body, causing him to grit his teeth against the pain. In the depths of his silent scream, he couldn't shake the fear that the severity of his wound might have caused his intestines to spill forth.

For weeks, whispers had circulated, proclaiming his demise on the battlefield. Ordinarily, swordmasters possessed the ability to manipulate their energy and swiftly heal their injuries. Yet, Darius found himself grappling with a deep wound that defied such rapid recovery.

"Damn it," he muttered through clenched teeth, his realization dawning that the blade responsible for his injury was no ordinary weapon. As Kariyah observed the affected area, she carefully retrieved the towel, preparing to tend to his wound with utmost care.

"Don't hold in your screams. It'll hurt less if you let it all out."

In this dire circumstance, efficiency dictated that Kariyah swiftly wiped down the infected area in one fluid motion, sparing Darius prolonged discomfort. With determined resolve, she wasted no time in attending to the wound, despite his growing groans of agony. Gradually, the sensation of searing pain subsided, replaced by a merciful sense of relief.

As Darius's eyes widened with the easing of his torment, he mustered the strength to lift his head slightly. A delicate, pale hand gently clasped his own, followed by the soothing cadence of a calm voice.

"If i didn't hold your hand, you'd end up clenching your fist. And then, your nails would end up digging into your flesh. Someone holding your hands would feel more comforting.."

"I'll go and retrieve the bandages now, so stay still."

Darius's hand clenched and unclenched reflexively as he watched Kariyah's retreating figure. Just a few hours earlier, he had been scaling a treacherous mountain, his determination unyielding even after a fall left his leg injured. Yet, that was merely one trial among many.

Throughout his journey to this remote abode, his fever had soared due to his wounds, compounded by the bitter chill of the elements. Despite encountering numerous obstacles along the way, he persevered, driven by a relentless desire for vengeance against the treacherous right hand who had betrayed him. But vengeance alone was not his sole motivation.

As a Duke, Darius bore the weight of responsibility for the welfare and sentiments of his people. He had fought valiantly to defend the kingdom during the war, only to be cast aside once the conflict had subsided. Yet, even in the face of abandonment, his sense of duty endured, propelling him forward in his quest for justice.

The urgency of finding their whereabouts weighed heavily on his mind. Yet, here he sat, engaged in an unusual exchange with an even stranger woman, the sensation akin to a sudden dousing of cold water on his fevered thoughts.

Accepting the reality of his current incapacitation, Darius resigned himself to inaction for the time being. With a sigh, he reclined back, allowing his body to relax, feeling the gentle tug of sleep beckoning him. It was a surreal sensation, drifting into slumber amidst the flickering glow of the fireplace.

A while later, Kariyah returned with bandages in hand, only to find him lying motionless with his eyes closed. Pausing mid-step, she hesitated, wondering if he had drifted off to sleep.

Though his vision began to dim, his hearing remained keen. Sensing Kariyah's approach, he mumbled softly, his words barely audible.

" .. I'm saying this a bit late but thank you"

" You can thank me when you're properly healed."

In Kariyah's gaze, there lingered a hint of uncertainty, a reluctance to declare his healing as complete. In response, Darius couldn't help but release a laugh, amused by her unexpectedly candid admission. After all, they were strangers thrown together by circumstance.

As the first light of morning broke, snow began to blanket the landscape, casting a serene veil over the world outside. However, despite the tranquil scene, Darius found himself battling a sudden onset of high fever, a cruel reminder of the lingering effects of his injuries.