Rain drizzled softly from the sky, the drops light and scattered, tapping gently against leaves and damp earth. A cool breeze followed alongside it, weaving through the trees and brushing against the figures beneath the canopy.
"I forgot my shoes, my lord," Dydra blurted.
The words escaped her before she could stop them. What else was she supposed to say? Her jaw tightened as the cold seeped deeper into her skin, biting through the thin fabric of her dress. She could feel Leonard's gaze fixed on her back—heavy, assessing.
He listened closely to the rhythm beneath her ribs.
Her heartbeat was steady. Uneven with nerves, but truthful.
She wasn't lying.
Still, the answer irritated him.
"Then you must be really stupid," Leonard remarked coolly.
A displeased frown tugged at Dydra's face, but thankfully her head remained bowed, sparing her from being caught. Her fingers curled tightly at her sides.
"Look at me when I'm speaking to you," he demanded.
It unsettled him that he couldn't see her expression. He didn't like unknowns.
Dydra's blue eyes rolled sharply before she could stop herself. She forced a polite, brittle smile onto her lips and straightened, lifting her head—but pointedly avoiding his gaze.
The rain thinned, but the chill deepened. The breeze cut sharper now, sliding beneath her dress and raising goosebumps along her arms. Dydra folded her fingers together, pressing her hands tight against her sides as her teeth clenched in a silent effort to endure the cold.
Leonard noticed.
His eyes flicked over her once more, taking in the subtle tremor she tried—and failed—to hide. A frown settled between his brows.
Without a word, his hands slipped from his pockets. In one smooth motion, he shrugged off his long coat and swung it over her shoulders.
Warmth enveloped her instantly.
Dydra's eyes widened in shock. The coat was thick, heavy, and carried a faint, clean scent—woodsmoke and something richer beneath it. Instinctively, she reached up to pull it off.
"Take it off," Leonard said quietly, "and see what happens."
The warning was soft—but unmistakable.
Her lips twisted slightly in annoyance. Who did this man think he was? Ordering her around like that? Still… warmth soaked into her bones, and despite herself, gratitude stirred beneath her irritation.
"Thank you, my lord," she said softly.
The sound of her voice—gentle, sincere—eased something in Leonard's gaze.
"What is your name, little fox?" he asked.
Her lips pressed together. The nickname grated on her nerves, but she knew better than to protest now.
"Dydra, my lord."
As her name left her lips, something flickered in Leonard's eyes—brief but unmistakable. Astonishment, tinged with something older. As though the name had brushed against a memory he could not quite reach.
"Dydra," he repeated quietly, testing the sound of it. "So… how did you get here, little fox?"
She shot him a quick glare—fast and sharp—but it vanished as soon as it appeared. Leonard caught it anyway. His eyes were far too keen.
The corner of his lips lifted faintly.
She sighed inwardly and answered, voice low. "My horse. I was hit by a tree branch. I lost my balance and fell. It ran that way." She pointed behind her.
Leonard followed her gesture, scanning the ground. Hoof marks, broken twigs, scraped bark. Light disturbances.
"It's close," he said.
He stepped forward, then paused when he realized she was following him.
"You stay here," he ordered. "There are too many things that could cut your feet. Next time you decide to take a walk in the forest, remember to wear shoes."
He didn't wait for a reply.
Within seconds, he vanished into the trees.
Dydra stood frozen, lips parted as if to speak—but he was already gone. Slowly, she exhaled. For reasons she couldn't explain, she obeyed him and stayed where she was.
Her fingers curled into the coat draped over her shoulders. The fabric was soft, expensive—far beyond anything she had ever owned. Despite his arrogance, despite the way he spoke, she was grateful.
If he hadn't appeared… she might still be lying helpless on the forest floor.
Her thoughts drifted unwillingly to the past.
She had encountered wealthy people before, back when she ran errands for the Thelmond household. They were never kind. They looked at her with disgust, mocked her clothes, her skin, her very presence. They said people like her weren't meant to walk the same paths as them.
Once, when she talked back—defended herself—they had ordered their servants to beat her.
She returned home that day bruised and bleeding, hiding everything from Agatha. She knew her foster mother would have demanded justice, and justice between those of no title and those of great standing never favored the poor.
From that day on, Dydra avoided the wealthy entirely.
Leonard was… different.
Still sharp. Still arrogant. But he had helped her. Given her warmth. Found her horse.
She owed him thanks—real thanks.
Just then, the bushes rustled.
Leonard emerged, fingers wrapped firmly around Speed's reins. Relief washed over her instantly.
She smiled and bowed deeply. "Thank you so much, my lord."
He said nothing, merely extended the reins toward her.
Their fingers brushed as she took them.
The contact was brief—but electric.
Dydra withdrew her hand immediately, warmth rushing to her face. She turned away, a shy smile tugging at her lips.
A deep chuckle escaped Leonard.
"First time being touched by a man?" he teased.
Her eyes widened.
She spun away from him, hands flying to her face as mortification flooded her. What kind of thing was that to say?! Her heart raced, thoughts tangling in embarrassment.
Leonard watched her with open amusement, rain dripping slowly from his hair as he studied her reaction—unfiltered, honest, unguarded.
Interesting.