Chapter 3: The Man Who Saw the Shadows
Lyria's POV
A man strolled into the hall like he had merely wandered in from a lazy afternoon nap.
He barely held back a yawn.
The audacity of it stole the breath from the room.
Whispers exploded instantly.
"Who is that?"
"Good heavens…"
"He's stunning."
"Is that truly the Duke?"
"Why is he dressed like that?"
Even I found myself leaning forward slightly, curiosity overcoming heartbreak for a brief, unwelcome moment.
He moved with lazy confidence, long strides unhurried, posture loose but undeniably powerful. His crimson hair flowed freely down his back in wild waves, catching the chandelier light like burning copper. Several silver earrings lined one ear, glinting with careless charm. His pale green eyes swept across the hall with detached boredom — until they stopped.
On the shadows.
On me.
My breath caught sharply in my throat.
It was impossible.
There was no way he could see me.
The darkness concealed me. My scent was masked. My mask hid half my face. No one ever noticed me here.
And yet his gaze locked unwaveringly in my direction.
A faint crease appeared between his brows, as if puzzled… or maybe displeased. That wouldn't be a weird expression after all. It was very common when people saw me.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
He continued walking toward the dais, never breaking eye contact. Each step tightened the invisible thread connecting us until it felt like the air itself had grown taut.
Only when he stood directly before Jacinta did he finally shift his attention.
Jacinta extended her hands expectantly, her smile warm and practiced.
He stared past her, though, and instead looked in my direction again. I wondered if perhaps there was something around me that made him look so intensely in my direction.
The hall fell into confused murmurs.
"Your Grace?" Jacinta asked softly, her voice carrying a polite note of concern. "Is something amiss?"
He did not answer her.
Up close, I could see more details — the sharp angle of his jaw, the faint scar along his collarbone, the way his partially open shirt exposed bronzed skin and well-defined muscle with scandalous indifference to court decorum. His attire looked more suited to a private estate or a traveling merchant than a royal audience. Loose dark trousers, boots dusted faintly with road grime, a half-fastened coat hanging open like he had forgotten to care.
His dressing was highly improper, but it was also captivating. And also dangerous.
His eyes stayed on me for a while. I noticed how Jacinta frowned in the direction where I stood.
And I knew I had to get out. Evander's attention on me was not a good sign. It was not a good sign that Evander was staring in my direction, even if he couldn't see me.
The pain in my back flared again as I shifted subtly, panic crawling along my spine.
I had to leave.
Now.
Jacinta would make sure I was punished. Her mother would make sure of it because his attention was on me. I couldn't have that. I was still yet to recover from the injury on my back.
Keeping my head bowed, I slipped sideways into deeper shadow, moving carefully so as not to draw attention. My steps were slow, measured, deliberate — each one sending faint protest through my healing muscles.
Behind me, the murmurs continued.
"Why does he ignore her?"
"How rude…"
"Is he ill?"
"He didn't bow."
"Did you see how he looked at the shadows?"
My throat tightened.
I kept walking.
Past the pillar.
Along the velvet drapes.
Toward the narrow servant corridor concealed behind the banners.
I did not look back.
Not at Corvin.
Not at Jacinta.
Not at the strange Duke whose eyes had unsettled me more than betrayal ever could.
As soon as I slipped into the dim corridor beyond the hall, the noise dulled into muffled echoes. The air cooled, carrying the faint scent of stone and candle wax instead of suffocating perfume and power.
My breath finally broke free in a shaky exhale.
My heart still raced violently.
I pressed a hand lightly against my ribs, grounding myself, steadying the ache in my chest and the strange lingering sensation of being watched even now.
Whatever had just happened, I wasn't sure I wanted a part in it. I was doing everything in my power to avoid my family. There was only so much injury my body could take, after all.
I made my way to my room, the old stairs creaking as I climbed. I made sure to avoid the broken parts lest I fall through and injure myself like I had done when I was younger. I couldn't afford that. I had to ensure, after all, that the injuries on my body were kept to a minimum.
Immediately after I got into my room, I closed the door and removed the mask from my face. My room was small and suffocating, but it was my comfort. Everything in it was mine... at least that's what I liked to tell myself. I noticed something on the reading table — it was a ribbon. One that Corvin had given to me when we first became friends.
I had slept with it every night since then because I thought he was a friend. And he was, and even grew to be a lover. A lover who wanted my sister.
I should have known, though, that I could not be with him. I was merely illegitimate, after all. There was no way I could help him rise in ranks, and I was wolfless too. The girl who had lost everything and who was nothing. That was who I was. No alpha would want me at all. Not even someone who had been a friend for years.
I changed out of my clothes and dressed my wound as well as I could, then collapsed on my bed. The ball would continue for a while, which would grant me the chance to sleep. And I had to take the rest because I knew within my gut that Evander staring at the shadows where I stood would result in another scar at my back.