Shellia didn't even remember how it started. One moment, her father's sharp gaze was burning holes through both her and Allen; the next, she was tugging Allen's sleeve and whispering—half-desperate, half-mortified—"Let's run."
Allen, the ever-composed emperor who could face entire courts without flinching, actually blinked. "Run?"
"Yes," she hissed, glancing at her parents, who were now talking in low voices. "Before my father starts another lecture about propriety!"
Allen's lips twitched, and in the next heartbeat, he caught her hand. "As you wish, my lady."
They darted down the garden path, Shellia lifting her skirt just enough to keep from tripping while Allen matched her pace easily, laughter bubbling in his chest. Behind them, Gerald's voice thundered, "Shellia Emerald—get back here this instant!"
Giovina's softer laughter followed, "Let them be, Gerald."
