Xion's heart, which had just fluttered in giddy relief after his confession, sank when Darius didn't react.
The Archduke didn't speak. Heck, he didn't even blink. He just stood there as if he were frozen.
Soon after, as if electrocuted, Darius shot to his feet in one swift motion. His boots scraped the polished marble of the gazebo as he stumbled backward.
One hand clutched his cheek, right where Xion had kissed him. Then, with not a shred of grace, the Archduke of the Northern Empire fell down. He knelt right on the white marble floor.
"Ah!" Xion flinched, hurriedly rising halfway from his seat. "Are you okay—"
"Don't come near me," Darius said through gritted teeth. His voice sounded low and undoubtedly restrained.
Xion subconsciously obeyed, sitting right back on his chair.
The Archduke remained motionless, his spine rigid. Both of his hands were covering his face like a sinner ashamed to face the gods.
