"He's even better than the Duke's son " a noble commented, adding diesel to Leopold's rage.
Dorian continued looking at Leopold, mocking him silently, that was when Leopold approached him, extending his hands for a hand shake to save face before the nobles and be the bigger person, Dorian gave a long pause, making Leopold look ridiculous, before he accepted his hand.
"I hope one day I would be as good as you are at archery" Leopold said sounding as though he was more than willing to learn from Dorian.
"It's good to try to emulate people that are better than you". Dorian said giving a long pause, "But you know, sometimes it's good to not try, because you may never be as half good as them, example me" Dorian added squeezing Leopold's hand subtly before releasing it and walking away, leaving him standing there seething.
That was a nice game," Lady Eliza said politely, her voice soft and graceful, as if the words were meant to smooth over the charged atmosphere lingering in the garden. She smiled at Dorian with casual charm, her gloved hands folded neatly before her.
Dorian's lips curled faintly in response, but instead of meeting Eliza's gaze for long, he shifted his attention, noticing Nathaniel approaching him from afar.
The sky outside had already darkened, the moon hidden behind veils of thick clouds. It was time for him to leave with Lakanyon, yet he found himself lingering, reluctant to let the moment slip away completely. He had nearly forgotten his earlier promise to Eliza, and then, as though suddenly reminded, he said with practiced composure,
"Do you mind? Would you like to join me for tea tomorrow afternoon?"
The invitation made her heart skip beats as she hadn't expected it to be this soon.
"I would be honored," Lady Eliza replied, her smile widening in a charming way as she tried to tame her expression.
Before the conversation could deepen, another voice rang out. "So, my lord," Nathaniel said, bouncing up and down with an enthusiasm that felt almost out of place in the cool evening, "shall we be going?"
Dorian inclined his head, bowing slightly with cautious formality. Then, with the elegance of one long accustomed to noble eyes watching him, he turned and walked away. Nathaniel followed closely at his side, silent but observant, like a shadow behind his master's presence.
"Why are you leading her on?" Nathaniel asked Dorian
"Me?" Dorian asked as though he didn't understand what Nathaniel was talking about.
"Yes" Nathaniel confirmed."Why are you planting seeds of false hope in lade Eliza's heart?".
"Ok, if I didn't know you I would have thought you liked her" Dorian retorted. "And, she's the one sowing flash hopes in her heart, she was the one who approached me first ".
Nathaniel could only sigh before saying
"Well, you're right, she's the one who started it".
Back at the Evernight estate, trouble brewed.
"Why did you duel with him?!" Mr. Evernight's voice cracked like thunder, a furious yodel that reverberated through the grand hall. His son sat slouched on the plush velvet couch, hands pressed hard against his temples, eyes clenched shut as though trying to drown out his father's yelling.
"Now look at you," his father roared again, pacing like a caged beast. "You've become a laughingstock before people that we are better than!"
"Just calm down," Mrs. Evernight tried to intervene, her tone weary yet pleading. She placed a delicate hand upon her husband's arm, but it did little to soothe the storm.
"How would people see their future Duke now?" Mr. Evernight spat, his glare piercing the air like a blade.
"Thats enough" his wife murmured again, attempting to temper him.
But his fury only doubled. Mr. Evernight turned brutally on his son, though the young man's eyes remained closed, as if shutting out the disgrace that had been forced upon him.
"We are going to retaliate!" the elder barked.
"There's no need for that" his wife reasoned with him. "He just happened to best our son".
Leopold, silent in his corner of the storm, drew his own conclusions. His thoughts spun in silence, words kept hidden behind a mask of cold composure. His father's rage meant little compared to the burning fire building within him.
And still his father yelled more and more, louder and louder, until the words became a constant roar, echoing long after they ceased.
---
After what felt like endless hours, Leopold finally exited the main hall, Ambrose his personal servant trailing loyally behind him. The night air wrapped around him, heavy yet freeing. His face betrayed no emotion, but his silence spoke volumes.
They walked in unbroken quiet until Ambrose finally broke it.
"What are you plotting, my lord?" Ambrose's voice was low, steady, but edged with concern. He had served Leopold for years, long enough to know his master never let insults or humiliation pass unchallenged.
"You'll see," Leopold replied shortly, his words clipped and final. He turned the corner sharply, disappearing into his chamber, leaving Ambrose with more questions than answers.
---
Meanwhile, in another part of the city, Dorian arrived at his mansion, Nathaniel still faithfully shadowing his every step. Yet the thrill of the earlier games and the humiliation he had delivered had long since dissolved. The satisfaction had evaporated as though it had never existed, leaving only a hollow aftertaste.
It had been a fleeting joy, a themporary victory. Nothing more.
He dismissed Nathaniel with a subtle nod and withdrew into the grand solitude of his chambers. Stripping off his garments, he let the warm mist of the bath envelop him. The water carried heat through his body, but not relief. He leaned back, eyes drifting closed, trying futilely to recall the pleasure he had felt earlier.
Nothing remained. No spark, no sweetness. Only emptiness.
When at last he went to bed, as usual, sleep was far fetched from him, not that he truly needed it, yet his mind refused to rest. It wandered restlessly, circling back to someone he had almost forgotten, Arabella.
Arabella, locked away in the dungeons.
A genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips at the memory of blood smeared across her hands, her dress, her pale cheeks. The haunting image unsettled him, tugging at him in ways he did not understand.
With a frustrated breath, he tossed the covers aside.
The lair within his heart stirred, whispering him onward.
---
He walked the lonely and dark corridors of his mansion, where no lamps were lit, not even a candle to soften the shadows. His footsteps echoed faintly against the stone, carrying him deeper into the bowels of the estate. Downward he went, past the grand levels and the forgotten ones, until he reached the last floor.
Still he did not stop.
He pressed onward, into a passage few even knew existed, a hidden path that slid toward the furthest end of the corridor. Dust and the stench of rot clung to the air as he descended further into the old, abandoned dungeons.
The walls were damp and dirty. His footsteps disturbed the silence, drawing him closer and closer until at last he reached the cell.
There she was.
Arabella sat against the wall, her posture weary, her body still, yet even in that bleakness she carried a fragile strength. The darkness cloaked her, yet he could see her clearly.
And then, as if sensing him, her eyes slowly opened, weak but sharp, she found him staring at her through the bars, holding his gaze with unfathomable expression.
For a moment, it was as though they stood eye to eye, two figures separated not by distance but by chains neither had yet named.
Dorian's breath caught faintly, though he masked it quickly.
The silence between them thickened, as everything seemed to evaporate, leaving just the both of them.