Chapter 333: What He Has Made Clear
Chapter 332: What He Has Made Clear
Lyria’s POV
I had to admit, I had not expected matters to unfold in such a manner.
One moment I had been asking Duke Thorncrest a question that had lingered in my mind for far too long, and the next, the music had come to its end and Lucian had appeared at my side.
I could very well have asked Duke Thorncrest to answer me still. He had been standing but a few paces away, after all.
But Princess Jacinta now stood beside him.
Her hand rested lightly upon his arm with an ease that made something tighten quietly within my chest. She smiled brightly, every inch the princess she had been raised to become—radiant, poised, and entirely certain of her place within the world.
After everything Elara had revealed regarding Her Majesty’s instructions, I was not willing to risk Jacinta overhearing anything I might say to Duke Thorncrest.
Upon further reflection, even had Elara never warned me of the Queen’s intentions, I still would not have wished Jacinta to hear the question I had asked him.
It was personal.
Far too personal.
There were some thoughts I had no desire to share with her.
One thing, however, lingered in my thoughts during that brief exchange.
Duke Thorncrest’s expression.
When he had turned and discovered Princess Jacinta standing before him, something had changed. Only for an instant. A fleeting shadow had crossed his face—disgust.
It had vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.
His eyes had narrowed ever so slightly. His jaw had tightened for scarcely the space of a heartbeat.
Then his familiar smile had returned as though nothing at all had happened.
But I had seen it.
I was quite certain I had.
It was the second occasion upon which I had witnessed such an expression upon his face. The first had been when he encountered the High Priestess during the official restart of this competition. The second, with Jacinta. It seemed strangely out of place upon a gentleman who smiled as readily as he breathed.
"Your Highness," he had said to me, his voice perfectly composed, "I must beg your leave. I have been summoned to dance, and propriety demands that I oblige."
There had been something beneath those words.
Perhaps I imagined it.
Perhaps I merely thought too much.
Yet it had sounded almost as though he regretted our conversation being interrupted, particularly by Princess Jacinta, and that he took no pleasure in what was expected of him.
He bowed with impeccable courtesy before turning towards her.
I watched them for only a few moments.
Princess Jacinta smiled brilliantly throughout the opening steps of the dance.
Duke Thorncrest smiled as well.
His movements were flawless, graceful enough that no one observing them would suspect anything amiss. His hand rested lightly upon her waist as etiquette required, and together they glided effortlessly across the ballroom floor.
Yet, I could not forget what I had seen within his eyes.
"Your Highness."
Lucian’s voice drew me from my thoughts.
I blinked and turned towards him.
"My apologies."
Placing my hand within his, I allowed him to lead me onto the dance floor.
We took our places. And almost instinctively, my feet found the rhythm.
Lucian’s hand rested steadily against my waist, his posture as impeccable as ever. Dancing with him felt every bit as effortless as it had during our lessons by the lake.
"I must confess," he said after a short while, "I did not expect to remain bowing for quite so long."
I looked up at him.
"W-what d-do y-you m-mean?"
A hint of amusement touched his features.
"When I requested this dance, Your Highness simply stood there." His smile deepened. "I began to wonder whether your thoughts had wandered elsewhere."
He paused deliberately. "Perhaps... towards Alistair?"
I raised an eyebrow at that.
"A-are y-you p-prying f-for i-information?"
He chuckled.
"Perhaps I am." His smile softened then. "For one brief moment, I feared you intended to refuse me."
Heat rose gently into my cheeks.
"I w-was n-never g-going t-to r-refuse y-you," I said as I shook my head. "I p-promised I w-would d-dance w-with y-you after all."
"I can certainly live with that." He inclined his head, satisfied.
For several moments we danced in comfortable silence.
Then another thought returned to me.
"H-how w-was i-it t-that y-you a-and P-Princess J-Jacinta a-appeared a-at e-exactly t-the s-same m-moment?"
His expression changed—it was subtle yet unmistakable.
The warmth disappeared from his features.
His shoulders became noticeably stiffer.
His movements lost some of their earlier ease.
I frowned.
"Y-you d-do r-remember t-telling m-me n-not t-to b-be s-so s-stiff w-when I d-dance?" I asked, a smile on my face. "W-with h-how y-you a-are d-dancing n-now, i-it s-seems y-you a-are m-more l-likely t-to m-make a m-mistake t-than I a-am."
I had expected him to laugh.
Or perhaps offer a teasing remark.
Instead, his expression remained serious.
"If Your Highness is insinuating that I danced with Princess Jacinta before dancing with you..." His voice was calm, far calmer than his eyes. "...then Your Highness is quite mistaken."
I blinked.
"I d-did n-not—"
"And I confess," he continued quietly, "it pains me that you would believe me capable of such conduct."
I stared at him.
He was offended, genuinely so.
That explained the stiffness, the seriousness, the disappointment that had settled across his features.
I had not meant such a thing.
Not at all.
I had merely wondered how both of them had appeared at precisely the moment the music changed.
Nothing more.
Yet another part of what he had said lingered within my thoughts.
It pains him.
Those words echoed quietly through my mind.
Did he truly place me above Princess Jacinta?
The thought settled gently within my chest like the glow of a candle upon a winter evening. It was warm and welcoming, almost impossible to ignore.
I wished to ask him.
To understand precisely what he had meant.
But the question felt far too personal and far too revealing.
I was not certain I possessed the courage to hear his answer.
"Have I done nothing," he asked quietly, "to earn Your Highness’s trust? Have I instead given you reason to think less of me, when I have endeavoured to do precisely the opposite?"
"I d-do n-not u-understand," I admitted softly. "I m-merely a-asked a q-question."
"One," he replied, "that suggested you believed I would willingly neglect you."
His voice remained composed, though there was unmistakable hurt beneath it.
"I refused a dance with the daughter of one of my vassals because I wished to reserve this dance for you." His gaze never left mine as he spoke. "I desired to dance with no one else."
His next words came quietly.
"But you ask whether another lady stood before you." He shook his head almost imperceptibly. "No one stands above you to me, Your Highness. Why can you not see that?" he asked gently.
Instinctively, I glanced about the ballroom.
The other guests remained occupied with their own conversations and dances.
No one appeared to be paying us any particular attention.
I looked back at him.
"Y-you c-confuse m-me, Y-Your G-Grace." I lowered my voice to the point it was but a whisper. "W-why d-do y-you s-say s-such t-things? Y-your f-family s-stands s-so f-far a-above m-me."
My fingers tightened ever so slightly against his hand.
"I a-am n-nothing t-to y-you e-except a c-c—"
"Do not."
His interruption was gentle yet firm.
"Do not call yourself my cousin, Your Highness. We share no blood."
His expression remained unwavering.
"Her Majesty did not give birth to you. The King alone connects our families." He shook his head. "I have no wish to be regarded as your family. Least of all as your cousin."
"T-then... w-what?" I asked almost helplessly. "Y-you a-are a-already s-someone I t-trust. A-and y-you a-are c-connected t-to..."
He looked directly into my eyes.
"I told you before that I had a reason for entering this Selection." His voice was soft as he spoke. "Do you still not realise what it is... even after I have made it so very clear?"
I opened my mouth to answer, though I could not have said what words I meant to offer him.
None came.
My thoughts had scattered entirely, like leaves before a sudden wind, and I found myself unable to gather them into anything resembling a sentence.
He watched me struggle.
Not unkindly.
There was, in fact, something almost tender in the patience with which he waited, as though he understood precisely the disorder he had caused within me and took no small satisfaction in it.
"I—"
I stopped myself.
"Y-you s-speak i-in r-riddles, Y-Your G-Grace."
"Do I?"
"Y-yes."
"I had thought myself rather plain about it."
His thumb shifted, ever so slightly, against my gloved hand.
"Perhaps Your Highness simply does not wish to hear it said outright, or perhaps you simply do not get it, no matter how much I try to make it obvious to you."