The air, previously flowing at a comfortable temperature, turned noticeably cool at the sharpness in his voice, making Quilly’s eyes widen. Cecilia, who had just taken a bite of a small slice of fruit pie, didn’t react with surprise like Quilly. Instead, she quietly watched Seiyad.
She wasn’t the only one startled—one of the maids nearby also visibly flinched and trembled. Since it wasn’t a reaction he had intended or controlled, Seiyad forcibly relaxed his expression. It felt like his face and emotions were disconnected.
“It seems a bit too early to be saying something like that.”
He lost his appetite. He hadn’t been hungry to begin with, and the forced sense of hunger he’d conjured up simply vanished. Quilly, still staring at him with shocked eyes, quickly replied.
“He’s only lived twenty-one years, so of course, Your Grace is right. Still, someone of His Highness’s standing should have had a fiancée chosen during childhood. It looks like they’re trying to rush the engagement now. It would strengthen His Highness’s position, after all. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and the social circles are in an uproar.”
It was only natural. For royalty and nobles alike, marriage had always been a matter of power. It was perfectly logical that Ressas, the crown prince-to-be, would need such a formal arrangement. Just as Aster wielded the power of the House of Saklani, Ressas too needed that kind of backing.
It wasn’t something to be surprised about—and yet, his reaction made him feel ridiculous. He loathed the way he was acting, like a fool.
“…Yeah. You’re right.”
Murmuring his agreement with Quilly’s words, Seiyad was suddenly overcome with a desire to be alone. It was in moments like these he realized just how much his environment had changed. Where once solitude had been the norm, now people were always by his side. In order to be alone, he now had to leave the space himself—such a contrast from the past. What he had thought would be a bothersome level of bustle hadn’t been as bad as he expected, but at that moment, it simply felt overwhelming.
“That’s enough for the meal. You all can stay here.”
“Huh? Where are you going, Your Grace?”
“Duke Vetria has sent a missive. I think it’s best I go now.”
“This quickly? It’ll take at least an hour just to prepare for departure!”
Quilly stood to follow him, but Cecilia reached out to stop him. As if she understood Seiyad’s need to step away, she shook her head gently at Quilly.
“Oppa can handle things on his own. But it’s three days away, right? You’re taking knights with you, of course?”
Her tone was soft, but it held a certain force. Still, she was right. Since this was an official visit to a fief, he had to maintain appearances. Moving alone would be quicker, but—
“Don’t worry.”
“I will worry. My brother’s going on a long journey. But I hope you do whatever you want while you’re there. There’s still time before winter starts in the fief, so it’s fine to be gone for a few weeks. I’ll take care of things here—don’t worry about us.”
There was something odd about how casually she mentioned being gone for “a few weeks,” just for a trip to Vetria’s territory. It was roughly the same time it would take to reach the capital, almost as if she were deliberately alluding to it. Then again, perhaps he was just reading too much into it.
“What nonsense.”
With a consciously forced smile, he replied. Cecilia waved, as if to say take care. When he bent and pressed a kiss to her forehead in parting, she whispered close:
“Oppa, I don’t dislike His Highness Ressas the way I used to. The things I saw and experienced in the South opened my eyes. I used to only look in one direction. He’s still secretive and hiding a lot, sure—but I know now that he wouldn’t ever leave you lonely or put you in danger.”
Her sudden words made Seiyad instinctively draw back. His dark grey brows knit in confusion, and Cecilia reached for his hand as if to reassure him.
“You’re the one who taught me that what we see isn’t always the whole truth. I’ve been feeling that more and more lately. Especially after how wrongly I judged you just a few years ago based on your actions alone—it makes all of this hit even harder. I think your relationship with His Highness is like that, too. What looked like betrayal might have actually been something he did for your sake.”
“Cecil, why are you saying all this now…?”
“Just because. Lately I’ve been having these strange dreams. I don’t know if they’re visions or what, but I can never remember them when I wake up. I’ll tell you more when you come back.”
Cecilia tapped the back of his hand and smiled, telling him to return safely. Watching her quietly wave goodbye reminded him of their mother from long ago. It felt like he’d recovered something he’d lost—and with that came the desire to recover something else, too. He wasn’t quite sure what that something was, but the moment that longing stirred in his chest, Ressas’s face flashed across his mind.
But just as Ressas came to mind, the word engagement followed swiftly behind, shaking the fire that had begun to kindle within Seiyad. The beautiful scenery of the hill they passed on the descent now appeared dull and drained of color—so different from how it had looked while ascending.
***
The road to the Vetria territory had been left untended for quite some time, making it rather rough. A path once maintained regularly by woodworkers was now neglected and bumpy, overgrown with weeds. The trees had grown unruly, their branches lashing out and sometimes striking the riders as they passed.
Seiyad brought several knights with him, partly to clear the road along the way. They trimmed just enough branches for carriages and horses to pass, continuing eastward. Broken signposts spotted along the route confirmed how much needed repair.
But once the necessary work was done, his mind was assaulted by intrusive thoughts. As they approached a small village where they’d rest for the night, Seiyad found himself thinking of Ressas once again—without meaning to.
‘So he never even bothered to show his face… Was it because of the engagement?’
He knew well enough that just like himself, Ressas couldn’t leave the palace freely. Even when a strange pang of resentment crept in, he’d always suppressed it. But once he heard about the engagement, all his assumptions collapsed. Seiyad turned over and over in his mind the reasons for his current inner turmoil.
When it came down to it, this was what he had wanted. He’d wanted Ressas to secure power—if he had a fiancée, his position would only become more solid. That would help punish Aster, who had dragged him through hell, and also help expose Desertus to the world. Objectively, it was all for the best.
Ressas had merely done what Seiyad had asked of him. He was the one who strictly honored Seiyad’s plea not to come closer. He kept that boundary so firmly that even during their parting, he hadn’t so much as taken his hand.
He had obeyed so thoroughly that he stopped seeking Seiyad altogether, ceased speaking of love—and now, the day had come when he even gained a fiancée. Everything had gone exactly as Seiyad had wished.
‘Then be happy, Seiyad. You’ve done what you couldn’t, no matter how hard you tried, before you died.’
As he chastised himself, the knight commander trailing quietly behind him shortened the distance between them. At the sound of approaching hoofbeats, Seiyad turned his head to see the commander bowing respectfully.
“Your Grace. There’s an inn nearby. Shall we rest there for the night?”
Kirill, the knight commander, had long shared an awkward relationship with Seiyad. He had been appointed around the time Seiyad had just inherited the title of Duke. It was then that Kirill’s father—the former commander—had taken his own life, burdened by the blame for the duchess’s death. The two had coexisted out of shared tragedy, yet they both remained bound by the shadows of their parents’ deaths.
They had maintained this strained balance even up until the brink of death. Kirill had never been disloyal, but neither had he shown deep allegiance. Perhaps because of that, even when many knights feared Seiyad or reviled him as a devil, Kirill had never made any effort to deny or defend.
“Do so.”
Yet Seiyad held no resentment toward Kirill. He had always carried a sliver of guilt when it came to the man and never demanded loyalty from him. The simple act of carrying out orders was enough for Seiyad.
Giving his command in his usual detached tone, he watched as Kirill bowed and answered.
“I’ll send someone ahead to secure the rooms.”
Even after dispatching a knight to reserve the inn, Kirill remained by Seiyad’s side. Wondering why he didn’t return to the others, Seiyad glanced over—and after a moment of hesitation, Kirill spoke.
“I’ve not had the opportunity to bring this up, but there’s something I wish to ask of Your Grace.”
“Speak.”
“Though Your Grace’s power is without equal, if you are ever to leave the territory again, please allow us to accompany you. We are your knights—it’s only right that we follow wherever you go.”
It was the first time Kirill had ever made such a request of his own accord. Seiyad fell silent, unable to find words right away. Bowing deeper, Kirill pleaded again.
“Please.”
His dark hair, tinged subtly with violet, fell over his brow, momentarily obscuring his face. The man, with his strong, masculine features, had a temperament just as solid. His reticence mirrored Seiyad’s own—which made this moment all the more unfamiliar.
Even as they rode in silence, pondering the request, the horses steadily carried them toward the inn. Bathed in the glow of bright lanterns, the village inn was surprisingly crowded. Numerous horses were tied outside, and several figures, likely knights, were gathered at the entrance. One of Seiyad’s men stood there, looking flustered.
“I’ll go see what’s going on.”
Kirill must have sensed it too, for he spurred his horse forward toward the entrance. The people gathered there were strangers Seiyad had never seen before. He tried to gauge their affiliations based on their attire, but nothing stood out. Still, there was an oddly familiar presence lingering in the air.
Acting purely on instinct, Seiyad dismounted. Ignoring the startled reactions of his knights, he moved without hesitation, drawn by a presence that left him breathless with longing. As he threw open the inn doors, the sweltering heat of summer swept over him. He inhaled sharply at the sudden wave of stifling warmth—and then froze in place.
Standing before Kirill was a man.
Though it was summer, he wore a light cloak that half-concealed his face. At the exact moment Seiyad entered, the man turned his head. Their eyes met—neither had the chance to look away.
Amethyst eyes, visible only by slightly lifting his head, locked onto Seiyad.
The depth of that gaze pierced straight through his chest. For a moment, he thought it was an illusion. He’d imagined and longed for that face so many times in his dreams that he thought perhaps he was hallucinating. Maybe this was a side effect of going so long without receiving Purification.
“Your Grace.”
But the moment that soft voice called out to him, fantasy became reality. Ressas stood there—his features sharper, his presence more mature than before. Despite the cloak, his porcelain skin and stunningly sculpted face drew everyone’s eyes.
Ressas bore the attention around him without a flicker of discomfort. With a voice just as calm as his expression, he greeted Seiyad.
“It’s been a while. Have you been well?”
There was no radiant smile this time. Only his innate gentleness, quietly present in his words.
