At the sight of his parents, Sylrick's expression darkened, his hand at Kayona's back tightening almost imperceptibly.
They moved toward the towering doors of the Kartegen mansion, guards and Maxwell falling in step behind.
Kayona slipped her arm through his free one, leaning in with a serene, almost adoring smile.
The least I can do is play the part, she thought.
She tilted her head slightly, catching the faint tension in his jaw.
"Is something wrong?" she asked softly.
"What could possibly be wrong? I'm perfectly fine," he said, a smile curving his lips — polished, but not real.
Kayona's eyes narrowed, You're obviously not fine, Sylrick.
At the front steps, Maxwell and the guards bowed low before the mansion's masters.
The Archduke and Archduchess of Kartegen advanced with contrasting expressions.
Edric Kartegen, tall and broad-shouldered, wore his duke's finery with unshakable authority. His black hair, streaked with silver, framed golden eyes that carried a quiet, watchful edge. He smirked as he took Kayona's hand, brushing his lips briefly across her glove.
"Good day, Archduchess Obregón," he said smoothly.
Beside him, Isolde's beauty was sharp and deliberate, her blood red hair catching threads of fire in the muted light. Green eyes swept over Kayona slowly, more appraisal than greeting. She inclined her head in the barest concession, a gesture so controlled it could have been rehearsed.
"You've come a long way, Archduchess. But our son did not inform me of your visit," Isolde said, perfectly polite yet devoid of warmth.
"Mother, please don't embarrass yourself," Sylrick cut in, his voice edged.
"Sylrick, you haven't stepped into this mansion since returning from your five years of military training. And when you finally do… you arrive with a woman?!"
Kayona inclined her head slightly, lips curved in a measured smile, hands folded neatly before her.
"You should be grateful that my future wife is the reason I stepped into this mansion," Sylrick said coolly, but his tone carried steel. "Had it been anyone else, I would not have come at all."
Isolde's gaze flicked to Kayona, sharp and calculating.
That look… it stirred an unpleasant memory, she mulled heavily.
"You must be thrilled, Archduchess," Isolde said, her tone smooth but laced with venom. "After years of dodging noble gatherings and balls because you weren't of age, suddenly you're the talk of Valchevia—now that my son has—"
"That's enough, Isolde!" Edric snapped, cutting her off before she could finish. "Have you completely lost your mind?!"
Isolde turned, lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes flashing with irritation.
"Very well, Archduke. But I trust you'll keep your household… in order."
Her gaze lingered on Kayona, sharp and assessing.
"I suppose I shall have to familiarize myself with our new… guest."
Kayona let out a sudden, lilting laugh. The sound was bright enough to pass for genuine, yet carried an edge sharp enough to prickle.
Three pairs of eyes turned toward her, equally puzzled.
"Oh my goodness," she said, brushing away a single tear from the corner of her eye, "what an amusing family."
Her voice softened with mirth—then, in a tone so subtle they almost didn't catch it, she added, "I will truly, truly enjoy my time getting to know all of you."
Her gaze shifted to Sylrick with an expression so sweet it could have passed for innocence.
"Sylrick, dear, why don't you give your fiancée a tour of the mansion?"
He held her stare for a moment, as if trying to read what game she was playing, before exhaling quietly.
Lifting her hand, he brushed his lips across her knuckles.
"Of course, Kayona."
Turning to his parents, he added curtly, "We'll catch up with you for lunch."
He didn't wait for their reply, just led her away.
Their steps rang against the polished marble, the tall doors shutting behind them with a muted thud. The air here was cooler and quieter, but the weight of his parents' eyes still clung to them like static.
Maxwell's footsteps remained steady a few paces back, like a shadow that refused to be shaken off.
Sylrick let out a breath, low and annoyed.
"Does he always have to keep following us?" he muttered, chin tilting toward Maxwell.
Kayona's smile was almost sweet.
"Why are you bothered? Are you planning to kill me?"
Please try, Sylrick. She thought, I've been itching to swing since I stepped out of that car.
"He's merely doing his job," she said with an airy ease.
Her voice gentled, though a strand of steel ran beneath it.
"More importantly, why did you tell me your parents agreed to see me before the wedding when your mother didn't know a thing?"
Three things struck her then.
One, although it had tugged at her mind earlier, Sylrick had been in Verristone, Kartegen's secondary province, since he returned.
Two, his parents didn't attend his welcome-back celebration, yet the invitation to meet them had come from House Kartegen instead of him. If neither parent was at the ball, why the formal letter?
And three, stepping into the mansion, she saw it plainly. Sylrick didn't acknowledge his father, and Edric didn't acknowledge him either. No casual greeting, no sign of warmth. That silence was deliberate.
But the most pressing question still burned. Why lie? His parents were supposedly expecting her, yet his mother had been caught off guard. Was he setting her up for something—or hiding something far worse?
"Their opinions aren't my problem. I brought you here solely out of Valchevian obligation," Sylrick said, his tone so dismissive it verged on indifference.
Kayona halted mid-step, turning to face him fully.
"Are you even listening to yourself?"
He stopped beside her, jaw tightening, a frustrated sigh slipping past his lips.
"I don't want to talk about my parents right now, Kayona."
"Sylrick!" Her voice cut through the hallway. "You walk into your parents' house for the first time in years and you can't even greet them properly. You don't warn me, you don't prepare me, yet I'm the one standing there under their scrutiny."
Something flickered in his eyes—sharp, playful, dangerous, like a predator catching the scent of blood.
He turned to face her fully, dipping his head just enough to show he was savoring the taste of her anger.
"Hm. Is that so? Enlighten me, Kayona."
"You threw me into that room like bait," she shot back, her voice rising with anger.
Sylrick's smile curved, not rushed but purposeful, as though he relished her defiance.
Crossing his arms, he drifted closer, eyes locked on hers.
"You're always eager to show off," she accused.
A strand of hair slipped across her eyes, and without breaking eye contact, he reached out and brushed it aside. His touch lingered just long enough to blur the line between mockery and tenderness.
"You're right," he breathed, "and I'll show you off more if I have to."
Her breath caught, but her glare didn't falter.
"You made it look like I forced myself into this house. As if I came crawling for their approval."
Sylrick's smile deepened, unreadable, as though he enjoyed a game only he knew the rules to.
Kayona eyed him with caution. And yet, a thought gnawed at her: who's really using who?