The night was quiet enough to hear the faint rustle of leaves beyond the manor walls. Gazel moved through the corridor like a shadow, her lantern trembling slightly in her hand. The flame quivered with each of her careful steps. She had just come from the stables, where Joshua waited for her in the dark, smelling faintly of hay and smoke.
He had kissed her hand before she left, promising that one day he would buy them a home of their own, far from the cold halls of this house. The thought made her lips curve faintly, though her heart raced at the risk she'd taken. No one in the household knew of their meetings, and if her stepmother ever found out—
Her steps faltered.
A faint sliver of light seeped through the crack beneath the Baron's study door. At this hour, her parents should have been asleep. She frowned, lowering the lantern so it wouldn't be seen and leaned closer. Voices echoed softly—tense, sharp, unmistakably familiar.
It was Silvia.
"The mines are drained dry, Baldrick! There's barely a speck of coal left, and the fields are barren. Do you expect me to conjure gold out of thin air? If the rain won't come, the money will run out!"
Gazel froze. Her breath caught, heart pounding so loudly she feared they might hear it.
Her father's voice came next, steady but weary. "And what would you have me do? Sell off my daughter to fix it? What kind of father would that make me?"
Her mother's scoff cut through the silence. "Oh, spare me the theatrics. You have six other daughters to think about! If this continues, no noble in his right mind will marry them. You'll lose everything."
Gazel's fingers tightened around the handle of her lantern. Sell off his daughter? What were they talking about?
"I'll find another way," her father said, voice trembling slightly. "Just… leave Gazel out of this."
"Oh, of course," Silvia spat, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because she's your precious one, isn't she? Your first wife's darling child—still haunting this house even after that woman's death! Tell me, Baldrick, when will you stop treating me like the villain here?"
Gazel's throat tightened. Why was she saying that? It sounded like her mother was trying to twist things again, the same way she always did when she wanted her father to bend.
"That's not what I meant," the Baron replied weakly. "But marrying her off to the Duke? She's too young. Too unprepared for something like that."
Silvia's reply came sharp and final. "She'll learn. The Duchess has chosen her, and I won't insult that decision. The arrangement is set. In a week, Gazel will be sent to Glorianda. That is final."
For a heartbeat, Gazel couldn't move. The words slammed into her chest like a physical blow. Sent away? To marry a Duke?
The lantern in her trembling hand slipped. It hit the floor with a loud crash, the glass shattering, flame sputtering out.
"What was that?" her father barked from inside.
Gazel gasped, panic surging through her veins. Without thinking, she turned and ran—bare feet slapping softly against the cold marble floor as she fled down the corridor and into the safety of her room.
She shut the door behind her, pressing her back against it, chest heaving. Her fingers shook as she whispered into the dark, "Marry me off? What about Joshua?"
-
The days that followed passed in heavy silence. Gazel kept to her room, pretending to be unwell. The curtains stayed drawn, her meals left untouched, and the only thing that kept her company were the letters she secretly wrote to Joshua. Each one carried the same desperate words — they plan to send me away… I don't know what to do.
She could never send them, of course. There was no safe way. But writing helped her breathe, even for a little while.
When the summons came, she knew what it was about. Her father never called her to the study unless he meant to discuss something serious.
Baron Baldrick sat behind his desk, shoulders slumped but face soft when he looked at her. On the table before him were boxes tied with silk ribbons — jewelry, fine fabrics, perfumes she'd never seen before. The scent of roses filled the room.
"Come here, dear," he said gently. "The Duchess is quite fond of you, I hear. She's sent these gifts herself. Isn't that kind?"
Gazel stopped a few steps away from the desk. The words made her chest tighten. Fond of me? She hadn't even spoken to the Grand Duchess properly that night, just been dragged away like an ornament on display.
Her father reached for her hand and smiled, as if trying to reassure her. "What do you think about this, my dear? You'll be happy there. The Young Duke is well respected, and the Grand Duchess is a gracious woman. You'll live comfortably."
She swallowed hard. His hand was warm, but it felt like a weight pressing her down. "Father," she began, voice barely steady. "I don't wish to be parted from you. This is my home. I'm used to these walls… please, don't send me away."
He sighed softly, the kind of sigh that told her the decision was already made. "You'll understand in time. Every parent must do what is best for their child."
Gazel forced a small smile, lowering her gaze to hide the tears that threatened to rise. I can't tell him about Joshua. If I do, Father will have him banished. A noble's daughter and a stable hand… he'd never allow it. It would be the end of Joshua.
Her throat ached as she nodded faintly, pretending to agree. But how can I marry someone else? she thought. How can I stand before a man I don't know while the one I love waits for me in the dark?
"But Father!"
Gazel's voice trembled as she tried to reason with him, her heart pounding painfully in her chest.
The Baron's hand tightened around hers, his usually weary eyes turning sharp. "Do you love another?" he asked, his voice low and direct.
Her breath caught. Did he find out? The thought struck her like a whip. She looked down at her hands, fingers twisting together. "Father, I—"
"If that is the case," he interrupted, leaning closer, "then tell me. Which family is he from?"
Gazel's throat went dry. Her mind raced. If I lie, he'll know. If I tell him, Joshua will be ruined. She opened her mouth, desperate to stall. "Actually, Father, he is,"
A knock came at the door. Both turned toward it.
In the doorway stood a man in muddied clothes, his face shadowed and his posture careful. His boots were caked with dirt, his hands dry and cracked from work. Yet even covered in grime, Gazel would have known him anywhere.
Joshua.
"Your Grace," he said, bowing quickly, "the stables have been cleaned, and the horses are prepared for the journey."
Gazel froze, her heart seizing in her chest. Why did he come now? His eyes flicked up just once to meet hers a fleeting look of worry and love before he lowered his gaze again.
The Baron's expression turned cold. "How dare you enter the manor in such a state," he barked, slamming his hand against the desk, "and before the lady, no less!"
Gazel flinched. The venom in her father's tone pierced through her like a blade.
Joshua dropped to one knee, his voice trembling. "I deserve to die for offending your sight, my lord. But the baroness instructed me to report, and I feared delaying her word."
"Get out," the Baron hissed, each word sharp and deliberate. "Before I have you flogged for insolence."
Joshua's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He rose slowly, head bowed, and stepped out without another word.
Gazel's hands clenched into fists. Every instinct in her screamed to run after him, to explain, to beg her father's forgiveness but she stayed rooted in place, trembling.
When the door shut, silence filled the room again. Her father turned back toward her, catching the faint trace of tears in her eyes. "Don't let vermin like him ruin your mood," he said calmly, as if his rage had never happened. "Now, tell me what you were going to say."
Gazel swallowed hard. She forced a small, wavering smile. "There is no one," she whispered. "I simply… don't think I'm ready to marry yet."
Her father sighed, already losing patience. "You'll find readiness once you wear the Duchess's ring."
Before he could say more, Gazel curtseyed and murmured, "Then forgive me, Father, but I must rest."
She fled the study before the tears escaped, climbing the stairs two at a time, her pulse pounding in her ears.
When she reached her room, she froze. Someone was already there.
Silvia stood by the window, her arms crossed and her lips curled into that familiar, cruel smile. The candlelight caught the glint of satisfaction in her eyes.
"Greetings, Mother," Gazel managed, her voice quiet as she lowered her head.
Silvia's tone was smooth, deceptively calm. "Did your father speak to you?"
"Yes," Gazel replied.
"So," Silvia said, taking a slow step forward, "are you ready for the wedding?"
Gazel hesitated, then finally lifted her gaze. "I told Father I am not ready."
For a moment, silence. The expected outburst didn't come. Instead, Silvia smiled a slow, venomous smile that made Gazel's stomach twist.
"Oh?" she said softly, tilting her head. "And does your father know about your late night ventures with the stable boy?"
Gazel's blood turned to ice. Her body went rigid, her breath caught midair.
Her lips parted, but no sound came.
Silvia took another step forward, her whisper cutting through the air like a blade. "Yes. I know everything."
The room suddenly felt smaller, the walls pressing in around her. Gazel's mind spun. If she knows… then Joshua—
Her hands trembled. "Please," she whispered, barely finding her voice. "You don't understand—"
"Oh, I understand perfectly," Silvia said, her eyes gleaming with triumph. "And if you wish to keep that poor boy breathing, I suggest you start acting like the obedient daughter your father believes you are."
Gazel stood there frozen, her heart thundering painfully, the taste of salt and fear rising in her throat. "Or all that would be left of him will be these love letters." She smirked as she waved the letter in front of her.