Isadora slammed her bedroom door shut behind her. She paced across the room, the hem of her gown swishing against the floor as she tugged the pins from her hair one by one, letting the strands fall loose around her shoulders.
She could still hear Sephrina Vale's shrill, smug voice echoing. She'd looked down her nose at her in the middle of the boutique, speaking like she was something dragged in from the gutter. And the nerve — bringing up her visits to D'Aragon Hall as if they were some scandalous sin.
"Arrogant, insufferable bitch," Isadora muttered under her breath.
But no matter how sour the encounter had left her, she couldn't help but smirk at the memory of Sephrina's face when she told her — quite publicly — to fuck off.
The shop had gone so silent you could hear a pin drop.
Good.
A sharp knock at the door snapped her out of it.
"Come in," she called.
Nora, her maid, slipped inside, shutting the door carefully behind her. She looked both excited and nervous.
"My lady… you've made quite the scene today."
Isadora raised an eyebrow. "That obvious, huh?"
"It's everywhere already," Nora said, wringing her hands. "The staff downstairs can't stop whispering about it. Word's all over the village — about what you told Lady Sephrina. And it's reached the palace too."
Isadora groaned and flopped onto the edge of her bed. "How does it spread so fast?"
Nora gave a sheepish shrug. "The kitchen girls talk to the market maids, who talk to the stable boys, who talk to the town criers' wives… it moves quicker than the plague."
That drew a small laugh from Isadora despite herself. "Of course it does."
Nora hesitated, then cleared her throat. "And… Prince Alaric heard about it."
Isadora's head snapped up. "What?"
"He thinks you're… amusing," Nora admitted. "They say he laughed when he heard what you said. He's asked if he might call on you soon."
Isadora rolled her eyes and groaned. "The last thing I need is a prince sniffing around because I told someone off."
Nora looked wary. "He is the crown prince, my lady."
"I know what he is. That's why it's a problem." She sighed and stood, brushing down her skirts. "Well, I don't have time to sit here and worry about a prince's bruised ego. I have somewhere to be."
"D'Aragon Hall?"
"Where else?"
Nora gave her a pointed look. "Please be careful, my lady. The court's already watching you. And Lady Celeste… she won't be pleased."
"I can handle it," Isadora said softly, her expression firm. "Thank you, Nora."
The maid gave a quick curtsy and left.
The soft hush of evening settled over D'Aragon Hall, the mansion quieter than usual. Isadora made her way through the dim corridors, her steps light against the polished floors. The guards and maids barely glanced up anymore when she passed. It had become a routine now — her visits, her concern.
She pushed open the library door and stepped inside, the familiar scent of old parchment and cedar wrapping around her like a comfort. The room was warm, the flicker of firelight casting gentle shadows against the high shelves.
Before she could even announce herself, a quiet, steady voice called from the far side of the room.
"Isadora."
She blinked, her lips parting in surprise. "How do you always know it's me?"
Lucien, seated near the fire, turned his head slightly, a faint curve at the corner of his mouth. "I just do."
She shook her head, smiling to herself as she walked closer. "It's like some kind of saint. You recognize it every single time."
Lucien said nothing to that, only lifting a hand in silent greeting as she settled into the chair opposite him.
A comfortable quiet stretched between them for a moment, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire. Then, as if by instinct, Lucien spoke again.
"How was your day?"
Isadora let out a small groan, leaning back in her seat. "Eventful. And exhausting."
He arched a brow, waiting.
"I went out to pick up a few things," she started. "Books mostly… and a few fabrics. Nothing serious. But of course, Lady Sephrina Vale managed to ruin a perfectly good afternoon."
That earned her a low, amused sound from Lucien — not quite a laugh, but close.
"She started running her mouth about my visits here," Isadora went on. "As if it's anyone's business. Acting like she owns the kingdom and has the right to decide where I can or can't go."
"And?" Lucien prompted softly.
"And I told her to fuck off," Isadora replied without hesitation. "Right there in front of everyone."
This time, Lucien chuckled, the sound rich and surprisingly light in the quiet room. His head shook, and though his eyes could no longer see, his expression carried a ghost of a smile.
"You're going to cause a scandal one of these days."
"I think I already did," Isadora admitted, running a hand through her hair. "Word spread so fast it was in my house before I even got back. Celeste sent me a whole lecture about minding my tongue."
Lucien's lips twitched. "You don't strike me as someone easily tamed."
Isadora grinned. "I'm not."
Another small pause. The warmth between them hung in the air, easy, natural.
She tilted her head, watching him in the fire's glow. "And you? How are you feeling today?"
He hesitated a second, then nodded. "Better."
Isadora smiled softly. "Good. You look… calmer. A little less like you want to murder everyone."
That pulled another quiet laugh from him. "You exaggerate."
She shrugged. "Maybe. But Evelyn said you've been in a better mood, so whatever's working — keep it up."
He didn't respond to that, though the flicker of a smile lingered. He leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the cushions as if content just to listen.
Isadora let the silence settle again. She liked it here — away from the gossiping nobles, the exhausting politics, the endless pressure to smile and bow and pretend. Here, she could breathe.
After a moment, she stood. "I won't stay long. I just wanted to check in… like I promised."
Lucien's head tilted. "You don't have to."
"I want to," she replied quietly.
Another beat of silence.
"Thank you," he said at last, his voice soft but steady.
Isadora gave him a small, genuine smile. "Get some rest, Duke. And tomorrow, maybe let the servants open the windows or something. It's like a cave in here."
He snorted under his breath, the sound oddly comforting.
She left the room with a lighter heart than when she'd arrived.
And for once, so did he.
Morning light spilled through the tall windows of D'Amore Manor's dining room, catching on the delicate crystalware and the soft porcelain cups arranged neatly on the long table. The aroma of fresh bread and tea drifted through the air as Lady Celeste sat with her husband, the Earl, quietly sharing their breakfast.
The soft clatter of cutlery and the low murmur of their conversation filled the room—until a knock sounded at the doors.
A footman stepped inside, bowing low. "Your Graces… His Royal Highness, Prince Alaric, requests an audience."
Lady Celeste stiffened, exchanging a look with her husband. The Earl set down his cup with a calm, measured movement. "Show him in."
The doors opened, and in stepped Prince Alaric, dressed in a deep blue coat, an easy smile on his lips. "Good morning, Lady Celeste. Lord D'Amore," he greeted smoothly, offering a polite bow.
"Your Highness," Celeste said, rising with a graceful nod. "To what do we owe this early pleasure?"
"I thought I might join you for breakfast," Alaric replied easily. "And… if permitted, request Lady Isadora's company for the morning."
The Earl raised a brow. "For what purpose, if I may ask?"
"A simple outing. Some shopping, perhaps tea." His smile was as charming as ever, but there was a glint in his eyes — one Celeste recognized. The prince had never been one to ask for company idly.
"I believe she's still in her chambers," Celeste said. "Nora, fetch Lady Isadora at once."
"Yes, my lady." The maid scurried off.
Moments later, Isadora entered the dining room, already dressed in a soft lilac day gown. She paused, blinking as she caught sight of Alaric.
"Your Highness," she greeted with a small curtsey.
"Lady Isadora." Alaric stepped forward, offering her a gentle smile. "I was hoping you might join me this morning. A bit of shopping, some tea… if your guardians allow, of course."
Isadora glanced at Celeste and the Earl, trying to read their faces. Celeste's expression remained composed, though her eyes held a warning.
"It would be rude to decline a royal invitation," the Earl said at last.
"Then I'd be honored," Isadora replied politely.
Alaric beamed. "Excellent."
———
They left the manor together, his carriage already waiting. The streets were beginning to stir as they made their way toward the market district. Alaric sat beside her, speaking easily of the weather, the court, and trivial matters.
Isadora, for her part, kept her answers measured. She didn't trust his easy charm.
As expected, their arrival did not go unnoticed.
Heads turned. Murmurs rippled through the streets as the prince escorted her from boutique to boutique. Every passerby, every noble lady lingering by a shop window, watched them with wide eyes and quick whispers.
And Alaric seemed to revel in it.
He spoke to her with a kind of casual intimacy, never inappropriate, but enough to suggest a closeness that wasn't truly there. When he guided her into a tea house, taking a private table near the window, the glances followed.
He leaned in, resting his chin on his palm. "You know… you're quite the topic of conversation these days."
Isadora sipped her tea, unfazed. "So I've heard."
"That little incident with Lady Sephrina… impressive."
She gave a nonchalant shrug. "She had it coming."
Alaric chuckled, genuine amusement in his eyes. "I rather enjoy watching you stir up this kingdom. It's been far too dull."
"I'm not here to entertain, Your Highness."
"No… but you do, nonetheless." He grinned. "I could use more of that."
Isadora set down her cup. "What exactly do you want from me?"
Alaric's gaze held hers, sharp and calculating behind the pleasant mask. "Nothing, yet. Perhaps I just enjoy your company."
She didn't believe him for a second, but she smiled anyway.
By afternoon, Isadora returned to D'Amore Manor, excusing herself with the claim of a headache.
Nora met her at the door, hurrying to take her cloak. "How was it, my lady?"
"Exactly as expected," Isadora muttered.
"News of it's already spread," Nora confided in a hushed tone. "The prince taking you out like that… everyone's talking."
Isadora sighed. "Of course they are."
She headed up to her chambers, eager to change out of the day's silk and lace. But as evening approached, one last visit called to her.