It was nightfall when the Grand Duke came to her room.
His hair loose, falling on his shoulders and framing part of his face. The night shirt he wore was left open at the chest, revealing the broadness of his torso beneath it. Regardless of the casual look he looked intimidating.
Neria sat on her bed, her head snapping toward the door at the sound of it opening. For a brief moment, she hoped it was Fiona.
It wasn’t.
She hadn’t seen Fiona since they returned from the gardens. In fact, Fiona hadn’t even been the one to bring her back. The guards had escorted Neria to her room instead, saying nothing as they marched her through the corridors like the prisoner she was.
Neria’s fingers tightened slightly around her shell necklace.
The Duke didn’t cross the room immediately.
He remained near the door, one hand resting loosely at his side as his amber eyes narrowed on her. He was studying her, silently taking in every detail.
Neria shifted slightly beneath his stare, trying not to let her discomfort show. She had spent the entire day wondering when he would react and how he would react.
She knew he wouldn’t exactly be pleased that she had left this room without his orders. She had been waiting for him to come to her ever since the guards brought her back, and now that he was finally standing in front of her, she wasn’t sure which version of the Grand Duke she would have to deal with.
Darian finally moved away from the door.
His footsteps were quiet against the marble as he crossed the room, but Neria still felt each one. She watched him from the corner of her eye, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the shell resting against her chest.
He stopped in front of her.
Neria looked up at him. His eyes were cold and unimpressed, the same look he always wore whenever he thought she was hiding something.
She lowered her gaze, but Darian caught her chin and tilted her head back toward him.
"How did you do it?" he asked. "How did you convince Hartley, of all people, to let you out?"
Neria tried to pull away. Having him this close felt dangerous, but his grip remained firm.
"I didn’t do anything..."
Darian’s eyes narrowed. "No?" He leaned closer, their faces so close to each other she could see the star shaped mole under his eye, "You didn’t use any magic on them..."
"Calypsos don’t have magic," she said defensively.
"Yet you managed to kill seven people."
His voice hardened. He didn’t raise it, but the change was enough to make her flinch. His fingers dug slightly deeper into her chin, the pressure becoming more painful.
Neria’s heart began to race.
She needed to...
She started crying.
The tears came easily, rolling down her cheeks before she could even force them. They blurred her vision slightly despite the spectacles resting on her nose. She had hoped the sight of them would at least make him release his grip.
It didn’t.
Instead, Darian started laughing.
The sound filled the room, completely catching her off guard. His shoulders shook slightly as he laughed, and he turned his face away for a moment as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Neria stared at him, confused.
When he looked back at her, the amusement was still lingering in his eyes, mixed with the suspicion that had been there from the beginning.
"So this is how you did it," he chuckled. "You cried like a babe in front of them, and it worked."
Neria’s tears stopped.
She simply stared at him.
Darian’s thumb moved across her cheek, brushing away the tears that remained there. His touch was strangely calm now, almost absentminded.
"You’re a cunning little thing..." His gaze lifted meeting hers. "But that horseshit won’t work on me."
His hand left her face, and he straightened.
"Fiona will be punished."
"What? No!" Neria immediately got to her feet.
Darian didn’t look back as he turned toward the door. "Someone else will be reassigned to you."
"No! That’s not fair!"
Her voice trembled as she followed him for a few steps. She knew she shouldn’t be questioning him, especially when she needed him to trust her, but she couldn’t let Fiona suffer because of her.
"Fiona had nothing to do with this!"
Darian stopped.
For a moment, he remained completely still with his back toward her. Then he turned his head slightly, just enough for Neria to see the side of his face.
"Nothing to do with this?" His voice quiet, "She didn’t help you convince Hartley?"
Neria hesitated. "She only told Doctor Vale that I needed sunlight."
Darian finally turned to face her.
"And you just happened to stand there and cry until Hartley changed his mind?"
Neria’s lips parted, but no answer came.
Darian watched her carefully. "You’re very protective of her."
"She’s kind to me."
Something in his expression shifted, though Neria couldn’t tell whether it was irritation or amusement.
"That is precisely why she will be reassigned."
Her brows drew together. "What?"
"You need someone who understands that you are a prisoner, not a friend."
Neria’s stomach sank. "Please..." It was a genuine plea.
Darian’s expression remained unreadable.
"Your actions have consequences Neria."
He opened the door.
"You wanted to know how far you could go." His amber eyes settled on her one last time.
"Now you know."
___
Hartley waited for him halfway down the hallway. The old man stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his posture as straight as ever despite the late hour.
He fell into step beside Darian as soon as the Grand Duke approached.
"My apologies again for allowing the Calypso outside, Your Grace."
Darian sighed, his gaze remaining fixed ahead of him. "It happens."
His footsteps echoed softly through the quiet corridor. For a moment, neither man spoke.
Then Darian glanced toward the closed doors behind them. "It seems I underestimated her again."
Hartley remained silent for a moment before asking, "Shall I double the guards, sir?"
Darian shook his head. "No." His eyes narrowed slightly as he continued down the hallway.
"Instead, make certain Fiona stays away from her for a week or so."
Hartley looked toward him. "Mm?"
"Let Neria believe she’s being punished." Darian’s mouth curved into a faint, knowing smile. "She needs to think her little performance had consequences."
The butler nodded slowly.
"And after that?"
Darian considered the question for a moment. "She may return to the gardens."
Hartley’s brows lifted slightly.
"With guards," Darian added.
"Of course."
They continued walking, their footsteps the only sound for several moments. The palace had grown quiet, the torches along the walls burning low and casting long shadows across the marble floor.
Eventually, Hartley broke the silence.
"You suspect something, sir?"
A quiet laugh escaped Darian.
"Of course."
He glanced toward the windows at the end of the corridor, his expression thoughtful.
"She’s too clever for her own good. That little display today wasn’t simply about wanting fresh air."
Hartley studied him.
"And what do you believe she is planning?"
Darian’s mouth curved into a faint smirk. "I don’t know yet."
His gaze hardened.
"But I intend to find out."
He continued walking, his hands slipping into the pockets of his trousers.
"Whatever plan she’s concocting in that little head of hers..." His smile deepened slightly. "I plan to let it die."