That night, Clara's pride burned hotter than her embarrassment. Kyle wasn't in his room—fine.
She'd find him. A man like him wouldn't be far.
Maybe he was walking alone, needing company. Maybe he was just waiting for the right signal.
She pulled her robe tighter and stepped out into the night, heels softly tapping against the stone as she searched the moonlit paths of her village.
But the moment she rounded the guesthouse's corner, her instincts screamed.
"Looking for someone?"
Came a cool voice, low and dangerous.
Clara froze. In the dim lantern light stood three women. Grand Duchess Amana, her posture regal and eyes glinting with frost.
Melissa, arms crossed, one brow raised in scornful amusement. And Silvy, standing at the center, a soft smile on her lips that didn't reach her eyes.
They blocked the path like a wall of ice and fire.
"I…Was just taking a walk."
Clara straightened, pasting a diplomatic smile on her lips.
"In your undergarments?"
