After the incident between Denova and Seraphine, something in Denova quietly shifted.
She didn't storm the halls. She didn't seek comfort or explanation. Instead, she disappeared.
For the rest of the day, Denova shut herself away in the small garden office, a place usually filled with sunlight, drifting petals, and her quiet humming. This time, the air felt heavier. The door remained closed. Servants passed by with curious glances, whispering about how she hadn't stepped out even once, not for tea, not for fresh air, not even when dusk began to creep across the manor grounds.
Inside, Denova sat at her desk, sleeves rolled up, hair loosely tied, eyes burning with focus. If she could finish this task quickly, perfectly then perhaps she wouldn't have to think. Not about Seraphine's sharp words. Not about the way her chest had tightened afterward. Work was safer. Fabric never betrayed you. Sketches never judged.
She sketched with intention, each line deliberate.
The empress came to her mind not as a woman, but as a presence.
Powerful. Steady. Unshakable.
The kind of woman whose silence commanded more attention than most people's speeches. The mother of an empire, someone who carried authority as naturally as breathing. Denova paused, tapping her pencil once against the paper, then smiled faintly. Yes. That was it. The gown had to speak before the empress ever did.
For the Harvest Festival, Denova envisioned a green and white lace ballgown sets a tone of authority softened by elegance, green symbolizing prosperity and strength, while white lace adds refinement. The illusion neckline subtly frames the collarbone, giving the gown a light, graceful feel without sacrificing structure. Long lace sleeves bring a sense of tradition and composure, perfectly suited for a formal occasion. The floral embroidery is thoughtfully placed, echoing themes of abundance and nature without overwhelming the design.
A chapel train adds understated drama, creating a graceful flow with every step. The V-back introduces quiet confidence, while the scalloped hem finishes the gown with delicate movement.
Overall, it's a gown that blends power and elegance. A dress fit for a ruler who didn't need to prove she ruled.
But the empress's birthday…no, that required something different.
Denova's breath slowed as her pencil moved again, slower now, almost reverent. For that night, she imagined fairy pearl lace creates a soft, luminous base, subtly catching the light for an elegant glow. The strapless silhouette keeps the design clean and refined, drawing attention to the neckline and allowing the craftsmanship to stand out. Luxury embroidery, layered with delicate sequin accents, adds depth and controlled shimmer without overpowering the look.
A flowing train brings quiet drama, enhancing the gown's grandeur as it moves. The rich ruby color is a deliberate choice, mirroring the empress's striking eyes, bold, intense, and unforgettable. Ensuring she appears both elegant and undeniably powerful.
Denova leaned back, studying her work, heart thudding softly. She wasn't just designing dresses. She was crafting armor, soft, beautiful armor that would make the empress look powerful and elegant all at once. Untouchable. Eternal.
Outside, the garden grew quiet as evening fell. Inside, Denova worked on, unaware of the faint tension curling through the manor, unaware that someone perhaps more than one is already beginning to wonder what she'll create in that closed room.
Dinner was nearing when a soft, hesitant knock sounded at Denova's door.
She wasn't expecting anyone. For a moment, she simply stared at the handle before rising and opening it, and promptly froze.
The Duke stood there.
Not in his usual composed, untouchable way, but almost… uncertain. The warm glow of the hallway lamps caught the faint flush on his cheeks, and Denova felt her breath hitch before she could stop herself. It took her a second to remember how to speak.
"Your Grace?" she said, recovering just enough to offer a polite smile. "Is there something I can help you with?"
He cleared his throat, eyes flicking away briefly before returning to her. "Yes. Well. I was wondering…" His ears were unmistakably red now. "If you might like to go to the square with me tonight. The opening of the harvest festival is happening."
He went on, as if afraid she might interrupt him. The harvest festival, he explained, would last the entire month, music, markets, lights, laughter filling the city day and night. The empress herself would only appear at the grand parade at the very end, but tonight was about celebration. About people.
"There will be performances," he said, a little more relaxed now. "Stalls everywhere. Food from every city. Games. I thought… you should experience it. If you aren't too busy, of course."
Denova studied him for a heartbeat longer than necessary. Her designs were finished, her mind finally at rest. And the thought of the festival, of color, noise, warmth felt suddenly tempting. More than that, the thought of going with him made something light and excited stir in her chest.
"I'd like that," she said softly.
His smile came quickly, bright and almost boyish, and she had to look away before it unraveled her composure.
She dressed quickly, choosing something simple yet graceful, then slipped into Lowen's room. He slept peacefully, curls scattered across the pillow. Denova bent down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, whispering a promise to bring him something sweet when she returned.
When she stepped outside, the Duke was already waiting.
The square was alive.
Lanterns glowed overhead, music spilled through the air, and laughter echoed from every corner. Denova found herself smiling more than she had in days. They wandered through the market, tasting unfamiliar sweets, warm bread, spiced meats, candied fruit. She laughed when syrup stuck to her fingers, the Duke offered his handkerchief with mock seriousness.
They paused beside a crowded food stall, balancing a single wooden plate between them.
"Try this," Denova said, lifting a bite toward him. "The vendor swore it was sweet."
The Duke obeyed without hesitation then blinked. "That is not sweet."
She laughed instantly. "Spiced?"
"Very," he replied, coughing lightly, though a smile tugged at his lips. "I believe I've been betrayed."
"Then it's only fair," he said, scooping a bite and holding it out to her. "My turn."
Denova tasted it and froze. Her eyes widened. "That is sweet."
"Extremely," he said, pleased.
They both laughed, standing far too close now. Elarion is still feeling so nervous knowing that he never told his right hand man about his outing with Denova. He don't want to hear some nagging about his curse, for a second he just want to stuck himself in this moment, just a few hours would be enough for him.
They played games, throwing rings, guessing weights, testing luck. And whenever shooting was involved, the Duke proved impossibly skilled, calm and precise, as if the world narrowed to his focus alone. By the time he's done shooting, he returned triumphantly with a huge bear stuffed toy in his hands.
"For you," he said, placing it gently into Denova's arms.
She laughed, surprised and touched all at once, fingers closing around the prize. As stars lit the sky above the square, she realized she hadn't once thought about deadlines or duties.
Only the warmth of the night, the sound of the festival, and the Duke standing quietly beside her smiling as if this simple joy meant more to him than any grand event ever could.
Unbeknownst to the Duke, the Prince had already begun to move.
He stood near the dart-shooting stall, pretending to be fully absorbed in the game, his attention fixed anywhere but on Denova, until the exact moment he chose to notice her. His expression shifted flawlessly, surprise softening his features as if fate itself had caught him off guard.
"Lady Denova?" he said, turning as though startled. "What a pleasant coincidence."
He greeted them both properly, but his gaze returned to Denova almost immediately, accompanied by that practiced, devastating smile, the kind meant to linger. "I truly didn't expect to see you here tonight," he added lightly. "It's… nice."
The Duke's mouth curved in something that was technically a smile. "For someone who rarely does anything without a plan," he murmured, "that is a very interesting statement."
The Prince heard him. He simply ignored it.
Instead, he focused on Denova, asking her what she enjoyed most about the festival. She answered easily, unaware of the quiet tension tightening between the two men.
"Well," she said, glancing down at the stuffed bear in her arms, "aside from the food, I like this the most."
The Prince's eyes flicked to the toy, and lingered just long enough for him to understand. Ah.
A prize.
From the Duke.
His smile didn't fade. "If that's the case," he said smoothly, "Is there another toy you like? I'd be happy to win it for you."
Denova considered it seriously, then shook her head. "I think… I just like bears."
Before the Prince could respond, the Duke stepped in. "Denova," he said gently, "would you like to rest for a moment?"
Then, turning to the Prince with impeccable politeness, he added, "It seems you've yet to fully enjoy the festival. We wouldn't want to interrupt."
The Prince laughed softly. "Actually, I came here straight from work. I'm quite tired myself. Resting with Denova sounds ideal."
Denova blinked.
Something felt… off.
Both men were smiling, perfectly composed, but their eyes were locked in a silent clash that made her stomach tighten. She watched them for a second longer than necessary before deciding, surely they were just exhausted. That had to be it.
"Oh," she said quickly, "by the way, Your Highness, the dress design is finished. I'll be sending the letter to the empress tomorrow."
The Prince's expression brightened, genuine pleasure flashing through. "That's wonderful news. Perhaps then… I could give you a tour of the palace?"
She hesitated. "If we're both not busy, then… yes."
The Duke had reached his limit.
"Denova," he said sharply, her name carrying weight. "Come with me. There's something I'd like to show you."
He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, he gently took her hand and led her away, his grip firm but careful. Denova stumbled slightly, surprised, but followed.
The Prince moved to follow, only to be blocked by a sudden surge of festivalgoers passing between the stalls. By the time the crowd clear, the Duke and Denova were gone.
He exhaled slowly, composing himself.
Fine, he thought, eyes narrowing with quiet determination. The empress's visit will give me time.
And when that moment came, Denova would be his, entirely.