The heavy doors to the parlor closed with a soft thud, leaving a lingering silence in their wake. Lady Aurora had finally relented, her firm hand on Phineus's shoulder as she guided the young boy away despite his loud protests echoing down the corridor.
Elena remained seated, her posture composed but her mind frayed with unease. The polished silver tea service sat untouched on the low table before her, delicate reflections of candlelight trembling across the porcelain surface like ghostly whispers.
From beside her, the scrape of a chair drew her eyes.
Seamus stood, one hand extended. "I think we need to have a discussion," he said gently. "Will you join me in the gardens? The rain seems to have stopped, finally."
Elena turned her head toward the tall windows. Beyond the glass, the drenched garden glowed faintly under a blanket of mana-powered lanterns, their enchanted light casting halos through the rising mist. The sight was otherworldly—beautiful and slightly unreal.
She nodded, slipping her hand into his.
They walked side by side, his gait confident, hers careful. The wet stone paths shimmered under their boots as they meandered through rows of rain-kissed roses and vines heavy with new bloom. The sweet scent of damp earth and flowers mingled with the salty breath of the sea. Above them, the storm clouds parted just enough for the moon to peek through, its pale light painting the hedgerows in silver.
Seamus said nothing at first, and that silence pressed between them like the space between two pages of a book that had never been read aloud.
Finally, Elena broke the hush.
"I…" she exhaled, turning her face toward the cliffside. The ocean below roared and whispered in turn. "I'm at a loss for words, my Lord. That night felt like a dream. And dreams…" Her voice wavered, but she met his eyes steadily. "Dreams aren't meant to last."
Seamus remained quiet, allowing her to speak freely.
"You know of my situation," she said, her voice firmer now. "The Rosaria estate is ruined. My family name is a liability. I've nothing to offer. If you're looking for a sycophant or a mistress to dote on you, you've chosen poorly."
Seamus quirked a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching with the hint of a smile. "Is that what you think I want?"
She pressed her lips together. "I've heard the stories. You've had your share of women. Some of them better connected than I'll ever be. And I'm sure more obedient." Her fingers found the medal at her throat, the one she never took off. "So why me?"
His gaze shifted to the dark horizon beyond the garden. "Because," he said after a beat, "I've never felt this way before. With anyone."
He turned back to her, silver eyes glittering with something unnameable.
"And I always get what I want," he added, not as a boast, but as a statement of fact.
Elena inhaled sharply, her spine straightening. "If this is pity—"
"It's not," he cut in. "I know what it feels like to hit rock bottom. Is this not yours?"
A faint crackle of static whispered through the air. Elena's expression hardened, eyes flashing in the moonlight. A subtle shimmer of energy coiled at her fingertips.
Seamus winced slightly. "Too blunt," he muttered. "Forgive me. That was cruel."
She looked away, eyes lowered. "I appreciate your honesty. I do." Her voice trembled just slightly. "But you scare me."
He reached out, gently lifting her chin. "I won't hurt you."
She felt the kiss before it even happened. When his lips met hers, the world faded into mist and rain-slick petals. His hands were warm on her waist, pulling her closer with hunger he didn't try to disguise.
She broke away just long enough to whisper, "Promise me you won't betray me. That's all I ask."
Instead of words, he drew her into a tighter embrace.
"I don't care that it's only been a day," he murmured. "You're mine. And I am yours."
Elena let herself sink into his arms. For once, she didn't flinch at closeness. Not yet. But a flicker of memory sliced through her mind like lightning—
Hemp shackles, burning her wrists. The smell of holy water and blood. A sneer.
"You belong to me." A deep, throaty laugh.
Her body tensed violently, breath catching in her throat.
Seamus noticed. Of course he did.
He pulled away with the care of someone handling a wounded bird. "Let's go back inside."
Gratefully, she nodded.
As they stepped back toward the manor, a figure lingered above them. Aurora stood on a shadowed balcony, arms crossed, having witnessed everything. Her eyes narrowed not in suspicion, but curiosity. There was more to Elena than the reports had said. More than just a disgraced noble with wild hair and tired eyes.
There was power. And Seamus—her beloved son—was already enthralled.
Later, in her chambers, Elena collapsed onto the bed still dressed in the night's gown. Her hands buried in the silken coverlet, she whispered aloud:
"Just what have I gotten myself into?"
She didn't expect an answer. Only sleep.