The grand hall of the de Vere manor was ablaze with candlelight, the air thick with the scent of roasting meats and the murmur of noble conversations. Emilia descended the staircase, her emerald gown shimmering like jewels in the flickering light. Her father, the Earl of Lancaster, stood at the base, a proud smile on his face as he offered her his arm.
"Lady Emilia, you outshine the stars themselves," he said, his voice booming enough to draw attention from nearby guests.
Emilia forced a smile, playing the part of the dutiful daughter. "Thank you, Father."
As they mingled, Emilia's gaze swept the room, searching for a glimpse of the man she was meant to marry. Sir Lucas Fitzwilliam was easy to spot, standing tall among a cluster of men near the fireplace. His dark hair was trimmed short, accentuating the sharp lines of his jaw, and his piercing blue eyes met hers for a brief, jarring moment.
"Ah, excellent timing," her father said, steering her toward Lucas. "Sir Lucas, I've saved the pleasure of introducing you to my daughter for last."
Lucas bowed low, his gaze lingering on Emilia as he straightened. "Lady Emilia. It's an honor."
Emilia curtsied, noting the firm set of his jaw and the hint of tension in his shoulders. He wasn't as unaffected as he seemed.
"Lady Emilia," Lucas repeated, his voice smooth but guarded. "Your father speaks highly of you."
Emilia smiled politely, aware of the curious eyes on them. "And I've heard much about you, Sir Lucas. Though I confess, I expected someone... older."
Lucas's lips twitched, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "I assure you, my age is not a reflection of my capabilities, my lady."
The earl chuckled, clapping Lucas on the back. "Indeed, Sir Lucas has proven himself time and again on the battlefield. He's a valuable asset to the crown."
The conversation flowed into discussions of politics and the king's latest decrees, but Emilia's attention waned. Lucas stood beside her, his posture rigid, as they fielded questions about their future plans. It was clear they were both playing roles, their true thoughts hidden beneath layers of etiquette.
As a servant announced dinner, Lucas offered Emilia his arm. "May I have the pleasure, my lady?"
Emilia hesitated for a moment before placing her hand on his sleeve. The touch sent a jolt of awareness through her, and she sensed Lucas felt it too, though he gave no outward sign.
The dinner was a lavish affair, filled with laughter and carefully crafted words. Emilia found herself engaged in a debate about the crown's treatment of local lords, and Lucas's firm stance on loyalty sparked a spark of defiance within her.
"With all due respect, Sir Lucas," Emilia said, her voice light but pointed, "loyalty to the crown shouldn't mean turning a blind eye to injustice."
Lucas's eyes narrowed slightly, intrigued. "And how would you propose the crown address such concerns, my lady?"
Emilia leaned in, her voice dropping to a murmur. "Perhaps by listening to the voices of its people, rather than silencing them."
Their gazes locked, the tension between them palpable. For a moment, the room faded, and it was just the two of them, locked in a silent battle of wills.
The earl intervened, laughing boisterously. "Ah, it seems my daughter's passion rivals her beauty, doesn't it, Sir Lucas?"
Lucas smiled, though his eyes remained serious. "I find it... captivating."
The rest of the meal was a blur of food and forced smiles, but Emilia couldn't shake the feeling that she'd just been sized up—and found wanting.
As the evening drew to a close, Lucas leaned in, his breath whispering against her ear. "I'll escort you to the garden. It's a lovely night for a walk."
Emilia's pulse skipped. Was this a courtesy, or a command? She glanced up, meeting his unreadable gaze.
"Thank you, Sir Lucas," she said softly. "I'd like that."
The garden was cool and fragrant, the moon casting silver shadows across the manicured hedges. Lucas led her along a winding path, their footsteps crunching on gravel. The music and laughter from the hall faded, leaving them in a pocket of quiet.
"You're not what I expected," Lucas said finally, breaking the silence.
Emilia raised an eyebrow. "And what did you expect, Sir Lucas?"
He turned to face her, his expression inscrutable. "A docile noblewoman, perhaps. Not someone who speaks her mind so freely."
Emilia laughed softly. "I fear I'm a disappointment, then."
Lucas's gaze lingered on hers. "Not at all, Lady Emilia. I think you might be exactly what I need."
The air thickened, and for a moment, it felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of them. But before Emilia could respond, a rustling sound echoed through the shadows.
Lucas's head snapped toward the noise, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Stay close," he murmured.
Emilia's heart quickened. Who—or what—lurked in the darkness?