[Lavinia's POV—Imperial Garden, After the Storm]
I finally spotted Papa.
There he was—slouching at the front row of the seating pavilion like he owned the world (which, frankly, he mostly did), sipping his wine as lazily as a lion sunbathing after a hunt. Seated beside him was none other than Grand Duke Regis—looking far too comfortable for someone who routinely drove Papa to the brink of a royal aneurysm.
"They look happy," I heard Grand Duke Regis say as I walked closer. "Surprisingly." He raised a brow at Papa, then added with that maddening smirk of his, "I thought he'd end up single and broody like you. But… guess I was wrong."
Papa's death glare was so sharp it could've slashed mountains. He didn't even bother with words—just stared at Regis like he was imagining 47 different ways to bury him beneath the palace.
But Grand Duke Regis?
Smiled.
Unbothered.
Amused.
And then he saw me.
