Chapter 19: A Curious Absence at Breakfast
Lucian stood very still at that.
Only his hand betrayed him.
It opened.
Closed.
And opened again.
The leather of his glove creaked faintly beneath the pressure of his fingers, the motion slow and restrained, as though he were exerting his will not upon another man—but upon himself.
Evander, quite unconcerned with the silent tension, had already given Lucian his back once more.
Lucian spoke before the other duke could take another step.
"May I ask," he said evenly, "what you are doing here at this hour of the morning?"
Evander paused at that.
Lucian's gaze sharpened.
"You are aware," he continued, "that you are numbered among the candidates presented to Her Highness."
Evander looked back over his shoulder.
His brows lifted a fraction.
"And therefore?"
"You should be at breakfast," Lucian said. "With the Princess right now. All suitor candidates are there with her."
Evander merely regarded him with mild curiosity, as though the notion were something newly placed before him for consideration.
Then he tilted his head slightly.
"Really?"
Lucian stared at him.
The faint smile at Evander's mouth softened into something contemplative.
"I was not aware that I had been enlisted for such an undertaking."
Lucian blinked once.
"You were introduced last evening," he said carefully, as though addressing a particularly wayward pupil. "Publicly and formally. And with unmistakable intent."
Evander hummed under his breath.
"That would explain the applauding," he murmured, "and why people were gathered."
Lucian gave him a look that could only be described as incredulous.
"You cannot be serious."
Evander turned fully now and folded his arms across his chest.
"What makes you think I am not?" he asked.
Lucian studied him with open suspicion.
It was not often that he found himself unable to determine whether a man was being deliberately provoking or merely insufferably sincere.
With Evander, the distinction was… blurred.
"You mean to tell me," Lucian said slowly, "that you did not comprehend the nature of your presence here?"
Evander considered this.
"At the time?" he replied lightly. "No."
Lucian's eyes narrowed.
"Then what, precisely, did you believe you were invited for?"
Evander smiled faintly.
"Excellent lodging."
Lucian closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Evander, oblivious—or perhaps delighting in the effect he was having—continued amiably.
"Passable wine. A respectable library. And a castle that does not appear to be actively collapsing."
He shrugged.
"One learns to appreciate such things."
Lucian exhaled through his nose.
"You were presented to the Princess Jacinta."
Evander's gaze flickered at the name.
"Oh," he said.
That was all.
Lucian opened his eyes again.
"You do not appear particularly troubled by that revelation."
Evander smiled.
"Should I be?" he asked Lucian.
Lucian searched his face. The Duke held no obvious signs of jest. It was as if he truly did not know why he was in the palace.
"It is not customary," Lucian said stiffly, "for men of your standing to treat such matters with indifference."
"Ah."
Evander's lips curved.
"There we differ."
Lucian's patience thinned visibly.
"You were placed before the court as a prospective match for the Princess of the realm."
"And yet," Evander said pleasantly, "I remain quite unaltered."
Lucian looked at him as though attempting to decipher a particularly badly written cipher.
"You are either astonishingly careless," he said, "or remarkably dishonest."
Evander tilted his head again.
"Or simply uninterested."
Lucian's expression darkened.
"That," he said quietly, "is not a luxury afforded to most men in our position."
Evander lifted one shoulder.
"Then I am fortunate, because it is afforded to me."
Lucian held his gaze.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The lake whispered faintly at their backs.
Somewhere beyond the trees, the distant bell of the palace chimed softly, marking the slow, ordered passage of the morning.
Lucian broke the silence.
"You were introduced," he repeated, "as one of Her Highness's potential suitors."
Evander nodded.
"So you say."
Lucian's stare hardened, and Evander studied him thoughtfully.
Then, quite unexpectedly, he smiled.
"Perhaps my situation is not unlike your own."
Lucian stiffened, and Evander assessed him with amusement. He had heard what Lucian told the beautiful woman not long ago, and he knew Lucian was not interested in Jacinta.
Lucian's eyes flashed.
"You presume far too much, Your Grace."
Evander did not appear offended. He only smiled at Lucian, who took a step towards him.
"If you are attempting to suggest—" he began, but Evander lifted one finger and moved back, putting distance between himself and Lucian.
"Let's get one thing straight, Lucian. I am not very fond of people I have just met standing close to me—especially men. And also, do not trouble yourself. I only just met the fair maiden you were interested in. You really think I would be into her?" he asked.
Lucian just stared at him.
Lucian preferred people he could read, but the Duke was like a puzzle.
Evander's eyes held a faint glimmer of amusement.
"You may keep your possessive theatrics to yourself, Lucian," he added lightly. "They are quite unnecessary where I am concerned."
Lucian's jaw tightened in irritation. The Duke spoke the truth—he had only just met Lyria. He could not possibly have come as a candidate for Lyria.
But that did not explain why the Duke was here in the palace.
"Why are you here, then?" Lucian asked him.
Evander blinked in shock, his eyes wide.
"You ask like you don't know."
Lucian frowned.
"What are—"
"Of course I'm here as a suitor candidate. I'm here for the Princess Jacinta," Evander told him.
Lucian stared at Evander.
"But you just said—"
"It was a joke, Lucian. You should learn to take jokes. Not everything is that serious, after all."
Lucian once more clenched and unclenched his fist. He was very close to hitting the Duke in front of him.
He opened his mouth to speak when the Duke yawned loudly, barely covering it with his hand.
It was exaggerated.
Extremely so.
"If you will forgive me," Evander said mildly, "my head continues to protest your prolonged engagement with me."
Lucian glanced back at him.
Evander rubbed lightly at his temple.
"This spot," he added, gesturing vaguely at the stretch of sun-warmed grass near the bank, "is vastly superior to the chamber I was assigned, and I would like to get some sleep in before the main competition—or whatever the selection entails—begins."
Lucian rolled his eyes and then turned away, walking back towards the palace. Even his own head was beginning to protest from conversing with the Duke for so long. How one could be so extremely confusing, he had no idea.
Behind him, Evander watched with quiet, idle amusement.
Lucian did not look back.
He adjusted his coat as he walked, the movement precise and habitual.
Evander let out a long, contented breath.
At last, he was alone.
He rather enjoyed it when the fair maiden had been sketching. Her scent was calm, and something about it called to him.
He yawned, about to move to his spot. He had not lied about having a headache.
But then he heard a very familiar voice call out to him, and he sighed heavily.
There was no going back to sleep.