Chapter 17: A Favour Stolen Back
Lyria's POV
I glared at him.
I could not stop myself.
It was sharp and unmistakably unladylike, and I did not care.
I hated that he was doing this to me.
I hated the careless way he held my mask between his fingers, as though it were nothing more than a ribboned trifle, a token meant for idle amusement. I hated the faint patience in his eyes, as though he were waiting for me to fail him in precisely the manner he expected.
Never—never—had it been heard that someone of my position would address him by his given name.
Not in public.
Not in private.
Not even in jest.
He was a duke.
A member of the Queen's own blood.
A man raised to be bowed to, deferred to, titled, and untouchable.
And another reason I could not call him by his given name was that we were never close.
Not in the way I had once been close to Corvin, who had spoken to me softly and kindly, who had treated me as though I were a friend to him.
Lucian and I had never been friends.
We had not shared secrets or laughter. The one thing that brought us together was the way he had picked on me when I was little.
My fingers curled into the fabric of my gown.
I clenched my fists tightly. This was not what I had planned for my morning. I had only come to draw and then visit my mother. Lucian was never part of the plan.
And rather than grant him what he wanted—
Rather than surrender a word he had no right to demand from me—I would simply leave.
I would return to the palace unseen.
I would go quietly through the servants' passages, just as I had come.
And I would make sure no one noticed as I made my way to my bedroom to take another mask. I had a spare, but it was not shaped quite the same as the one Lucian currently held.
The porcelain was thicker and the ribbon coarse. But I would rather endure that small discomfort than beg him.
I drew a breath and opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, Lucian turned sharply.
So abruptly that I startled.
His ears twitched and he tilted his head.
The lazy confidence in his stance vanished at once, replaced by something alert and dangerous and wholly instinctive.
I frowned because I could not hear anything. Being wolfless meant that the world reached me slowly.
I did not sense the tremor of distant footsteps through the ground beneath my shoes. I did not hear sounds from afar, and I could not detect people by their scents.
If someone moved quietly—
If they kept their breath controlled—
They could pass very near me without my knowing.
Lucian, however, turned with unmistakable certainty toward the line of silver-leafed trees that bordered the far side of the hollow.
"Who is there?" he called.
His voice was calm as he spoke.
Only the soft rustle of leaves answered him. The breeze stirred the reeds along the lake's edge. Water lapped faintly against stone.
My brows drew together. Could it be that Lucian had made a mistake?
Lucian, though, stood perfectly still, his shoulders squared, the mask hanging forgotten at his side.
"I am aware of your presence," he said again. "You may as well come forward."
Silence lingered for a heartbeat longer.
Then a weary sigh broke it.
It was unmistakably human, and it sounded tired, almost bored.
A moment later, a figure emerged from between the pale trunks of the trees.
He stepped into the open as though he had merely been delayed, not discovered. There were stray leaves in his hair, and he yawned and rubbed at his eyes like he was just waking up from slumber.
There was no way I would not know who he was. Especially after his entrance the previous day. But then again, why were two suitor candidates for Jacinta right here and not having breakfast with the person they had come to the palace for?
His gaze moved to me first, one brow lifted slightly, then his attention returned to Lucian.
"Your Grace," he drawled mildly, a faintly irreverent smile touching his mouth.
"For a duke of your standing, I must confess, I expected you to detect me the moment you arrived."
Lucian's jaw tightened.
"I was not paying attention," he replied flatly.
The man tilted his head.
"Oh?" he said lightly.
Amusement flickered in his eyes.
Then, very deliberately, he turned to me.
His expression softened.
"Oh," he said again, this time with something almost courteous in his tone. "Where are my manners?"
He stepped forward and inclined his head.
"I—"
"I know who y-you are. You do n-not need to introduce y-yourself, Your Grace."
The words left me before he could complete the gesture. And even though I was nervous, my stutter reduced visibly.
His smile deepened at once, and I noticed he had a faint dimple in one cheek. I had heard maids talking about how dashing dimples are in a man, but my imagination did no justice to what I was seeing right now.
"As you wish," he said smoothly.
Lucian's gaze sharpened.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded.
The man glanced at him with polite interest.
"What do you think I am doing, Your Grace?" he replied pleasantly.
Then his eyes flicked to me.
"To be precise," he continued, unhurried, "I find myself wondering why you are insisting that a young lady address you by your given name when she has made it abundantly clear that she does not wish to do so."
His tone remained courteous.
But there was a deliberate edge beneath it.
Lucian's mouth curved in distaste.
"Kindly mind your own affairs," he said.
The other duke chuckled softly, as though genuinely amused.
"I was. I daresay I was here before the both of you, having a nap, but your incessant talk woke me up."
He told Lucian as he took one step forward.
Then another.
He closed the space between himself and Lucian with deliberate ease.
Lucian was taken aback. He opened his mouth to speak, but before even a syllable could come out, the Duke reached out. His movements were swift, and I was certain that if I blinked, I would have missed it.
His fingers closed around the ribbon.
And just like that—
The mask was no longer in Lucian's hand.
Lucian's eyes flashed in anger, and the Duke turned to me.
He placed the mask gently into my trembling hands.
"For you, my lady," he said smoothly.
Honestly, the Duke was quite charming.
For a heartbeat, I could do nothing but stare. Then I looked up into his green orbs.
"T-thank you, Your Grace," I told him.
His eyes softened, and he smirked.
"You are most welcome," he told me. Then he leaned close.
"I'll let you in on something, my lady," he said softly. "Next time, don't argue with Aurelgrave. Just punch him and take what is yours."
I could not help the chuckle that slipped out of me then, and I nodded.
"I'm not a v-very good fighter," I told him.
"Well, I wasn't at first. We all start from somewhere," he said softly, then straightened.
I smiled at that and nodded. I placed the mask over my eyes and secured it before tying it firmly.
"I'll make sure to repay this favour," I said softly.
He frowned. "What I did was hardly a favour. I just hated hearing Aurelgrave speak."
I nodded, then bowed and immediately left. There was no need to stay anymore, but I would forever remember this conversation.
The Duke of Blackmere was quite dashing.