The days that followed were no different.
From morning until nearly nightfall, Valerie endured lesson after lesson noble etiquette, the history of the northern territories, how to speak before highborn nobles, how to stand, how to lower her head, even how to smile in a way deemed "appropriate" for a woman at a Duke's side.
Demian was always present.
Yet always distant.
She saw him only from afar standing tall among nobles, issuing calm commands, leading discussions about the territory. His expression was cold, his voice steady, his manner as though Valerie did not exist at all.
He did not approach her. Did not touch her. Did not call her name.
Valerie tried to convince herself this was better. That distance was safer. That her feelings would not grow more deeply entangled.
But in truth… every time she saw Demian's back from afar, the ache in her chest only sharpened.
