Eilika heard him retreating, his footsteps fading into the darkness, until a sudden shout jolted her.
"Why isn't this door opening?" Damian muttered with irritation.
Startled, Eilika turned her head toward him. Thanks to the moonlight spilling through the curtains, the room was no longer completely blind. Shadows still clung to the corners, but she could now make out his tall figure near the door, his hand gripping the handle as he tried to pull it open again.
The latch didn't budge.
Damian's head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing.
"Did you ask them to do this?" he demanded, glaring as though she had committed a crime.
Eilika blinked, stunned. "Huh? What do you mean?" she asked, her brows knitting in confusion.
"Don't play innocent." Damian's voice deepened, turning colder. "You told the maids to lock the door from the outside, didn't you?"
Eilika's lips parted in disbelief. For a second, she couldn't even form a response.
"I didn't even speak to anyone, Duke," she said firmly. "How could I order them to do anything?"
Damian's expression hardened even further.
"Liar," he spat.
Then, without waiting for her reply, he stalked across the room toward the table. A bottle of alcohol had been left there, undoubtedly another part of the wedding arrangement, along with two glasses.
Damian snatched up the bottle, uncorked it, and poured the drink into one of the glasses until it was nearly full.
"Do you have any evidence that I lied to you?" Eilika retorted, turning fully toward him.
Damian let out a low chuckle. He lifted the glass again and drank as if the alcohol were nothing more than water.
"You think I don't know women like you?" he said.
Eilika stiffened, the insult striking deeper than she expected.
"Women like me?" Her voice sharpened. "What exactly do you mean by that? What kind of woman am I in your eyes?"
Damian didn't even look remorseful. He lowered the glass slightly with unreadable eyes.
"I have nothing to discuss with you," he said. "So keep your mouth shut."
Eilika's lips pressed into a thin line. She should have stayed quiet. She should have swallowed it the way she always did.
But something in her snapped.
"I won't." She licked her lips slowly, forcing herself not to flinch. "You must be dying to run back to your mistress. That's why you're acting so frantic."
Damian's gaze turned sharp. "I don't have any mistress," he replied.
He set the glass down on the table with a loud clink, the sound echoing through the chamber like a warning.
Eilika scoffed and shook her head.
"Liar," she said, throwing his word back at him.
For the first time, Damian's composure cracked. His brow twitched in irritation as he stared at her, as though she were an unsolvable problem.
"How old are you?" he asked abruptly.
Eilika frowned. "Why? Planning to judge me based on my age, duke?" she snapped, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as if to shield herself.
Damian exhaled slowly, clearly running out of patience.
"Why don't we let this night pass in silence?" he said, his voice colder than before. "Go to bed and sleep before I make you sleep on the floor."
Eilika let out a quiet scoff and finally went to bed.
"When you can't win an argument," she murmured bitterly, "you shouldn't have started one."
Thankfully, the maid had already helped her change into a nightdress that was far more comfortable than her wedding gown. The soft fabric rested lightly against her skin, a small mercy after such a humiliating night.
She slipped beneath the silk sheets, the coldness of the bed making her shoulders tense for a moment. From the corner of her eye, she watched Damian.
He had settled into a chair like a king on a throne, one leg crossed over the other, a glass in his hand, his attention entirely consumed by the alcohol as if she didn't exist in the same room.
Eilika turned away, refusing to give him another glance. She pulled the sheets up to her chest, and soon, she drifted off to sleep.
~~~~
Her body jolted awake at the sudden sound of the door.
Eilika blinked rapidly, disoriented, then pushed herself upright, rubbing her eyes. Morning light spilled faintly into the chamber, softer than the pale moonlight of the previous night.
A maidservant stood in front of her, hands folded neatly with a respectful posture.
"Good morning, my lady," the maid greeted. "My name is Joanna. From today onward, I will be your personal attendant."
Joanna lowered her head slightly before continuing, "Did you sleep well? The Duke left the chamber quite early this morning. He instructed us not to disturb your rest."
At the mention of his name, Eilika rolled her eyes, irritation flickering across her face.
As if he cared.
Before she could respond, a small voice suddenly rang out from the doorway.
"Mama!"
Eilika's head snapped toward the sound.
A little boy stood at the entrance, clutching a soft toy tightly to his chest. His cheeks were slightly flushed, his wide eyes fixed on her with yearning and hope that made something inside her chest twist.
Joanna gasped softly.
"Young Lord, what are you doing here?" she asked, startled. She hurried toward him, keeping her voice low but firm. "How did you even come here? This isn't a place you should enter whenever you please."
The boy didn't look frightened. Instead, he took a small step forward as if he wanted to run straight to Eilika.
Before Joanna could reach him, another maid rushed into the room.
"Young Lord Roman!" the maidservant cried, clearly panicked. She immediately grabbed his hand. "Why did you run here? I've been looking for you everywhere!"
Roman jerked his hand back, resisting with all the strength his small body could muster.
"Let me go!" he shouted, his voice trembling with anger and desperation. "I want to greet my mother!"
The maid tried to pull him away, and Roman struggled harder, clutching the toy as though it was the only thing keeping him brave.
That was when Eilika commanded sharply.
"Stop."
Eilika threw the sheets aside and quickly stepped down from the bed, her bare feet touching the cold floor as she walked toward the child.