I swear, these people could make a funeral sound like a celebration if it meant they got to brag about their titles. The ballroom was packed, as always. Too many people in one place, all pretending they actually liked each other. The music was fine, I guess, but after the third waltz it just started sounding like noise.
I stood near one of the big marble columns, wine glass in hand, watching everyone act like this night meant something. Nobles twirling in circles, old men laughing at jokes that weren't funny, ladies pretending they weren't eyeing the best marriage prospects in the room. It was exhausting.
Another one of them made her way over.
"Lord Kallian," Lady Virella greeted me with the fakest smile I've ever seen. Violet dress, too much perfume. She'd been trying to corner me all night.
"You've been ignoring me," she said like it was some grand offense.
I forced a polite grin. "Wouldn't dream of it, my lady."
She laughed. The kind of laugh people do when they want something.
"You owe me a dance."
I took a sip of wine, mostly to buy a few seconds. "Maybe later."
She didn't budge. "You know, your father wouldn't like you slipping away."
And there it was. Not even subtle.
"Noted," I said, already tuning her out.
I spotted my father on the other side of the room. The Duke of Aurenhart, standing like some stone statue. He gave me a look that meant: Behave. Don't screw this up.
Yeah. No thanks.
I downed the rest of my drink, set the glass down on a tray, and walked out before anyone else could grab me.
Out in the hallway, the music dulled to a hum behind the doors. Two guards gave me a nod like good little soldiers. No one stops the Duke's son, even when he's running from a ballroom he's supposed to be working.
I found a balcony and leaned against the railing. Havelardo looked way better from up here than it did inside. The city was alive — lanterns, people, smells from the food stalls. It made me wonder why I kept letting them drag me to these things. What was the point? Shake hands with people I don't like? Dance with girls whose names I won't remember?
The stars were out. I guess that was something.
I stayed out there a while, just breathing, not thinking about anything useful. Eventually, I figured I'd have to head back in or they'd send someone after me. But I already knew what tomorrow would look like. The usual: ride out into the streets, make a few appearances, smile for the commoners so they know their "future Duke" exists.
Maybe I'd slip away after that. Just for a while.
Yeah. That sounded good. I didn't stick around long after that. Slipped out through the servants' corridor and rode home. Well — to the estate. Calling it "home" was generous.
It was quiet when I got there, like always. No one stays up for me. Not the servants, not even the old caretaker. They all know the routine by now: Kallian goes to some stupid noble event, Kallian sneaks out early, Kallian comes back looking like he wants to punch a wall.
I peeled off the jacket, dropped it somewhere on the floor, and flopped onto the bed. Didn't even bother taking off my boots. I was too damn tired to care.
I hate these things.
I hate this life.
Sleep came faster than I expected.
The next morning, I woke up later than I should have. Sunlight hit my face like a slap. I groaned, rolled over, and immediately remembered I had an inspection duty today.
Great.
Dragged myself out of bed, washed up, threw on the standard "heir of a Duke" outfit — clean, sharp, but not so fancy it made me look like I was trying too hard. Got a quick breakfast shoved in my hand by one of the kitchen maids, then grabbed my horse and rode out.
The duty was simple. Ride through town, check on the merchants, make sure the soldiers stationed there hadn't gotten drunk and stupid overnight. Smile at the people. Look like you care. All for show.
And for the first half hour, it was exactly what I expected. Boring. Predictable.
But then — I saw her.
At first, I wasn't even sure why she caught my eye. There were plenty of girls on the street, plenty of people moving around, shouting, buying, haggling. But something about her made me stop mid-step.
She was standing near a fruit stall, arms crossed, staring at the pile of fresh apples like it was her sworn enemy. Her expression was impossible to read — a mix of frustration, calculation, and… what was that? Hunger? Pride? A little bit of both.
Her hair was long, ridiculously long for a street girl. Most people would've chopped it off ages ago. Black as ink, all tangled up, some strands escaping from the messy knot she'd tied it into at the back of her head. It should've looked wild. But on her, it worked. Made her look like she didn't care what anyone thought.
The sunlight hit her at the right angle, making her skin look even paler against the mess of her hair. And those eyes — damn. Bright, sharp blue like ice that could cut you if you weren't careful. She wasn't like the other girls I'd seen at the palace balls or the town gatherings. Those girls smiled like they'd practiced it in a mirror a hundred times. This one… she didn't smile at all. Didn't need to.
There was something else about her face too. Chubby cheeks, probably a leftover from being a kid, but paired with this sharp jawline like she'd already seen too much for someone her age. Small nose. Pink lips, naturally full like she'd bitten them a thousand times out of habit.
Weird mix. Cute and dangerous.
And it wasn't just her face. The way she stood — straight-backed, defiant, like the whole world could fall apart and she'd still be here, still fighting for whatever scraps were left. She wasn't tall. Actually kind of small for her age, maybe a year or two younger than me. But it didn't matter.
I leaned against a post, arms crossed, and just… watched.
The way she kept glancing at the fruit seller's guards, eyeing the distance between them and the stall. Calculating. You didn't need to be a genius to know what she was thinking. I recognized that look. That's the look of someone about to steal.
And I'll admit it — I grinned.
Well, well. Looks like this boring day might finally get interesting.
Couldn't explain why, but watching her, it felt… different. I've seen street kids before. I've seen thieves before. Hell, I've even hired a few for stupid errands when I needed something done quietly. But her? She wasn't like them. She wasn't desperate. She wasn't scared. She was in control of her own little world.
Even if it was a crumbling one.
Who the hell are you? I thought again, curiosity itching at me worse than it had in months.
I adjusted my jacket, pushed off the post, and started toward her.
Let's see how this plays out.