Before the tension could settle, Barnaby emerged from the shadows, his sudden presence startling everyone.
Micheal blinked even in his dilemma Barnaby's appearance shocked him, his voice tinged with confusion. "Barnaby? How are you here?"
Barnaby inclined his head, his green eyes sharp and enigmatic. "Your distress called me, my lord. I'm always nearby when you need me."
Magda's crimson gaze shifted to Barnaby, her tone cold and cutting. "Distress, is that what you'd call it?" she asked, her voice quiet but pointed.
Though her exterior was calm, an undercurrent of fear churned within her. The implications of what could have transpired if someone else had found Micheal with the girl gnawed at her.
Would Micheal have been forced to marry the girl to preserve his reputation? With their marriage already under scrutiny and rumors of its unconsummated state and the upcoming Marriage bill, such a scandal could be the final blow.
Magda's trust in Micheal was steadfast, yet the fragility of their bond left her vulnerable.
She had realised that she loved him, but the weight of rumors, combined with the fear that he might not fully reciprocate her feelings, pressed heavily on her heart.
Barnaby's bow was deliberate, his movements deferential yet unsettling. "The young master's kindness has made him a target," he said, his voice calm but heavy with unspoken knowledge.
"In warzones, desperation often breeds folly. Women unaccustomed to proximity with nobles—especially one as young and generous as Master Micheal—may see him as their best chance at a better future. Such encounters demand caution."
Magda's unease deepened. Micheal, sensitive to her turmoil, reached for her hand instinctively, pulling her closer.
Without realizing it, he pressed her head to his chest, his actions more about reassuring her than addressing his own predicament.
"Magda," he murmured softly, "I swear, I was only trying to retrieve your pendant. She tried to take it. I wouldn't have touched her otherwise."
The girl, still kneeling moments before, finally understood the significance of the pendant. It wasn't a trinket from a former lover, but a deeply personal token Micheal associated with Magda.
Her realization struck her like a blow. Horrified, she recognized her folly. The man she had hoped to manipulate was a devoted husband, desperate to gain his wife's forgiveness. Her plan had unraveled spectacularly.
Scrambling to her feet, the girl fled, her sobs fading into the distance. The surrounding air felt heavy as Magda turned her sharp gaze to Micheal.
In that moment, she bore a striking resemblance to her father, Raphael Valoria, her expression one of sovereign displeasure. Yet, after a pause, her demeanor softened slightly.
"If you're going to be kind, Micheal," she said with a faint smirk, "make sure it's worth it."
Micheal's heart raced as he watched her turn and walk away, her posture stiff and unyielding. Vivian followed, glancing back briefly, her expression a mixture of curiosity and concern.
Barnaby's sudden arrival had rattled everyone, but Micheal's focus was solely on Magda.
A storm of guilt and fear churned within him. Magda's calm anger contrasted sharply with her usual warmth.
Yet, amidst the turmoil, Micheal's keen sensitivity to her emotions caught onto something else: the faint flicker of jealousy in her demeanor. Could she truly be jealous? The thought sent a brief thrill through him, even as he berated himself for finding joy in her discomfort.
Barnaby, ever enigmatic, placed a steady hand on Micheal's shoulder. "Master, you must stop spreading your kindness in ways that hurt Lady Magda," he said, his voice firm yet oddly cryptic.
Micheal frowned, his curiosity piqued. "Barnaby, how did you know to come here? I didn't call for you."
Barnaby's response was a cryptic smile, his green eyes gleaming with unspoken intent.
He gestured subtly in the direction Magda had gone. "Lady Magda has already left, my lord. The optimal window for an apology is about an hour into the storm. She's likely still within range for you to catch her."
Micheal blinked in surprise and turned quickly to follow Barnaby's cue, scanning the path Magda had taken.
When he turned back to question Barnaby further, he found only empty air—his butler had vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared.
Barnaby had always been an enigma, a constant yet unknowable presence in Micheal's life. Micheal often wondered about the secrets Barnaby carried but knew better than to pry. The timing of his arrival and his cryptic advice always left more questions than answers.
Confused but resolute, Micheal refocused on Magda. He drew a deep breath and set off after her, his steps quickening as his heart pounded with urgency.
"Magda, wait!" he called, his voice steady but sincere, but she had already left.
He wasn't thinking about the girl or the scandal—he only wanted to apologize, to make sure Magda understood the truth before any more distance grew between them.
Location: Magda's Chambers, Valenhart Castle
Magda stormed into her room, her emotions a tempest of anger, confusion, and vulnerability. Her crimson eyes burned with frustration, and her footsteps echoed sharply against the cold stone floor.
She had left Micheal behind, unwilling to let him see the storm raging within her. Vivian had accompanied her part-way but excused herself to oversee the evening drill, leaving Magda alone with her unrelenting thoughts.
As the door clicked shut behind her, Magda leaned against it, exhaling shakily.
Her heart ached with a chaotic mix of emotions she struggled to untangle: anger at Micheal for being deceived by a common servant, shame at her own overreaction, and jealousy—raw, biting jealousy that gnawed at her composure.
She clenched her fists, her nails pressing into her palms. "What will he think of me if he sees me like this?" she whispered to the empty room.
Her thoughts drifted to the pendant Micheal always wore—the one she had given him. She remembered the desperation in his actions to protect it from the girl's grasp.
A flicker of warmth bloomed in her chest, but it was quickly overshadowed by the fear that Micheal might misunderstand her anger.
Moving to the window, she gazed out over the castle grounds, her mind replaying the moment she had seen Micheal following the girl along the hillslope road. She hadn't meant to spy but had been curious, dragging a far-too-eager Vivian along.
The scene that unfolded left her stunned: the audacity of the girl to try and steal her husband—her Micheal—had ignited a fury she hadn't known she possessed. Now, though, that fury turned inward.
"Am I truly this petty?" she asked herself, her voice trembling. "Will Micheal hate me for my jealousy?"
A knock at the door startled her. Micheal's voice, gentle but insistent, came through. "Magda, open the door. I need to speak with you."
Her response was immediate and sharp. "Go away! Maybe you should chat up some maids if you're so desperate for company."
Outside, Micheal leaned against the door, panting slightly after frantically searching the library, dining hall, and other places Magda might have been, causing him to be late in reaching her.
Her cutting words stung, but the hint of jealousy behind them sent a thrill coursing through him. She cared—deeply. He intended to relish this realization, savoring the moments slowly, as if it were a delicacy meant just for him.
Running a hand through his hair, Micheal allowed a faint, mischievous smile to tug at his lips. "If she keeps being this adorable," he muttered under his breath, "she'll drive me to madness."
He knocked again, softer this time, his tone warm and steady. "Magda, please. May I come in? I want to apologize."
Inside, Magda froze mid-step. Her heart pounded as conflicting emotions surged through her. She considered ignoring him, but something in his voice gave her pause.
Reluctantly, she moved to the door and opened it just a crack, her crimson eyes locking onto his. "What do you want, Micheal?" she demanded coldly, though her voice wavered slightly.
Micheal met her gaze, his expression soft but unwavering. "I came to apologize," he began, his voice calm and sincere.
"Not for what you saw—you know I'd never betray you. But for making you feel this way. I should have been more cautious."
Magda stared at him, her emotions warring within her. The genuine regret in his voice softened the edges of her anger, though she tried to cling to it.
Finally, she stepped aside, letting him into the room. "You shouldn't apologize for what wasn't your fault," she said quietly. "But… thank you for saying it."
She crossed her arms, fixing him with a measured gaze. "You do realize, Micheal, that if someone else had seen that scene, you might have been forced to marry that girl. Our… circumstances don't leave much room for scandal."
Micheal's eyes flickered with understanding, but his reply was deliberate. "We don't need to prove anything to anyone, Magda. You're my wife, regardless of what others think."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, her anger flaring again. "You're infuriatingly calm about all this," she muttered, her tone laced with frustration. "Do you even realize what—"
He looked at Magda, noting her crossed arms and the subtle changes in her dressing since he arrived at Valenhart.
He knew she was trying to win him over, but in his mind, he pitied the poor thing who was trying to win what was already her's.
Micheal stepped closer, his calm demeanor concealing a flicker of amusement. "Magda," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "No one is taking me from you. Not a servant, not a noble, no one. Understand that."
To get a reaction from her, Micheal added with a feigned innocence, "You know, Magda, when I was a child, I used to get jealous too—of other kids who stole my elder brothers' attention. It's funny how those feelings can bubble up even when they don't matter."
His tone was light, but his eyes gleamed with a deliberate spark.
Magda stiffened, her internal frustration growing. She hated when anyone, especially Micheal, implied their bond could be compared to the affection between siblings or childhood playmates.
Her crimson eyes narrowed slightly, though she forced herself to remain composed. "That's hardly the same thing," she snapped, her voice clipped.
Micheal's lips twitched in amusement, savoring her reaction. "Oh, is it not?" he teased gently, leaning in slightly.
Her cheeks flushed with indignation, but she refused to take the bait. Instead, she turned away, crossing her arms tightly.
Micheal leaned back with a faint, satisfied smile. Magda's simmering frustration was precisely what he had hoped for, though he didn't push her further—for now.
Her breath hitched at the intensity of his words, and for a moment, she couldn't meet his gaze. "You're impossible," she mumbled, her cheeks warming.
She wondered fleetingly if he didn't understand the seriousness of their unconsummated marriage… or if he simply didn't see her as a woman.
Micheal's chuckle was soft, almost teasing. "Are you angry?" he asked, tilting his head slightly. "Or perhaps… jealous?"
Magda's head snapped up, indignation flashing in her eyes. "I am not!" she retorted, though her voice faltered.
His smile deepened, the predator behind his calm facade briefly surfacing. "Good," he murmured. "Because if you were, I might have to… do something about it."
The tension between them hung thick in the air, her heart pounding in her chest.
Then, as if sensing her turmoil, Micheal stepped back, his expression softening. "I'll leave you to your thoughts," he said, moving toward the door. But before he left, he glanced over his shoulder with a playful smirk. "For what it's worth, Magda… you're adorable when you're jealous."
Magda stood frozen, her emotions a tangled mess. As the door clicked shut behind him, she sank onto the edge of her bed.
Her chest tightened, her feelings for him overwhelming. Watching his retreating figure, one thought solidified in her heart: she loved him, fully and irrevocably.
Location: Servant's Quarters, Valenhart Castle
Micheal walked briskly through the dimly lit hallways of Valenhart Castle, his expression contemplative.
The earlier confrontation with Magda lingered in his mind, but now he had another matter to address. He stopped at an inconspicuous door near the servant's quarters and knocked softly.
The door opened slightly, revealing a shadowed figure.
Without preamble, Micheal spoke in a low voice. "The girl from the camp… ensure she's looked after. She was foolish, but she doesn't deserve to be discarded entirely."
The figure nodded, their face remaining in the shadows. "It will be done, your Highness."
Satisfied, Micheal turned on his heel and made his way back to his chambers, the faint sound of his boots on stone the only echo in the empty halls.