The wedding celebration continued long after the ceremony had ended.
Music filled the grand halls of the Valemont castle.
Crystal lights shimmered above the guests, servants moved constantly between the tables, and voices blended together in endless congratulations.
Noah Valemont stood beside his new wife, Flora Neuchestian.
The two families had gathered together to celebrate their union, and the atmosphere was filled with happiness.
Lord Cedric looked proud of his eldest son.
Lady Sia smiled beside him.
Alen moved excitedly among the guests, enjoying every moment of the celebration.
Everything around Sylvan Ashford was exactly as it should have been.
Yet he wasn’t paying much attention to any of it.
His expression remained calm.
Cold.
Unchanged.
He stood beside his father, Lucien Ashford, listening to conversations that required very little of him.
Someone congratulated him.
He answered politely.
Someone asked about Ashen.
He gave a short response.
Someone made a joke.
He barely reacted.
His attention should have remained on the wedding.
Instead, his eyes moved across the hall.
Slowly.
Almost unconsciously.
He looked toward the entrance.
Nothing.
His gaze shifted toward the servants.
Nothing.
He looked toward the corridor leading to the eastern wing.
Still nothing.
Sylvan’s brow tightened slightly.
He didn’t understand why he was looking.
He hadn’t even decided to look.
His eyes simply seemed to move on their own.
Then the thought came.
Where is she?
He immediately rejected it.
His gaze returned to the celebration.
He watched Noah speaking with Flora.
He watched Cedric talking to one of the guests.
He listened to Lucien discussing something beside him.
Yet after only a few moments, his attention wandered again.
The garden entrance.
Empty.
The corridor.
Empty.
The library doors in the distance.
Closed.
Sylvan’s expression remained emotionless.
But something inside him had begun to irritate him.
That girl.
Rosylin.
He remembered the name more easily than he expected.
Just Rosylin.
She had refused to tell him anything else.
A strange girl dressed in old clothing.
A girl who claimed to be a maid but hadn’t been wearing a maid’s uniform.
A girl who had spoken to him without the nervousness he was accustomed to seeing in people of lower rank.
A girl who had disappeared before he could get a proper answer from her.
Sylvan’s eyes narrowed slightly.
It made no sense.
He had met countless people.
Most of them disappeared from his thoughts the moment they left his sight.
He rarely remembered their faces.
Yet he remembered hers.
Too clearly.
He remembered the long burgundy hair falling loosely around her shoulders.
The pale face.
The quiet brown eyes.
The way she had looked at him.
Not boldly.
Not timidly.
Simply…
naturally.
As if he were just another person standing in front of her.
That was what bothered him most.
Sylvan lowered his gaze for a moment.
Why?
Why had she looked at him like that?
He had seen fear in people’s eyes before.
Respect.
Admiration.
Sometimes even hatred.
But her eyes had held none of those things.
She had looked at him as though she had no reason to care who he was.
It was strange.
And Sylvan disliked things he couldn’t understand.
His father said something beside him.
Sylvan didn’t hear it.
“Father?”
Lucien looked at him.
“I was speaking to you.”
Sylvan’s eyes returned to him.
“Forgive me.”
Lucien studied him for a moment.
“You seem distracted.”
“I’m not.”
The answer came immediately.
Too immediately.
Lucien raised an eyebrow but said nothing more.
Sylvan turned his attention toward the celebration again.
But his mind had already returned to the same question.
Who was she?
He had thought about asking Rizel.
But he stopped himself.
There was no reason.
The girl had spoken to his sister in the garden.
That was all.
Perhaps she really was only a servant.
Perhaps there was nothing more to discover.
Then why had she been hiding?
Why had she been alone?
Why had she known the castle so well?
And why had she looked so uncomfortable the moment he asked about her identity?
One question led to another.
Sylvan’s jaw tightened.
He didn’t like where his thoughts were going.
He had no reason to care.
Yet his mind continued anyway.
He looked toward the servants again.
A young maid walked across the hall carrying a tray.
For a brief second, Sylvan’s eyes followed her.
Then he realized it wasn’t her.
His gaze stopped.
He almost felt irritated with himself.
Ridiculous.
He had never searched a crowd for one person before.
Not like this.
He turned away.
A few moments later, his eyes moved again.
This time toward the staircase.
Nothing.
The garden.
Nothing.
The corridor.
Nothing.
It was becoming an unwanted habit.
He began noticing places where she might appear.
The library.
The garden.
The quieter corridors.
The parts of the castle where the celebration could barely be heard.
He knew those were the places she would prefer.
He had seen it in the garden.
She hadn’t been interested in the celebration.
She had been interested in the quiet.
Sylvan remembered Rizel sitting beside her.
He remembered how naturally Rosylin had spoken to his sister.
There had been no awkwardness.
No attempt to impress.
No false sweetness.
She had simply listened.
Perhaps that was another reason he remembered her.
She was difficult to place.
Difficult to read.
And Sylvan was not accustomed to people being difficult to read.
He looked toward the library again.
Still nothing.
His expression hardened.
Why was he doing this?
He had come to the Valemont castle for a wedding.
Not to investigate a mysterious girl.
Not to waste his thoughts on someone whose name he barely knew.
Not to wonder where she was every few minutes.
He forced his attention back toward Noah and Flora.
The newly married couple were receiving congratulations from the guests.
Sylvan watched for several seconds.
Then his eyes moved again.
The movement was so natural that he didn’t notice it until it had already happened.
He stopped.
For the first time, he understood what was happening.
He was looking for her.
Not because he needed her.
Not because he missed her.
Not because he wanted her attention.
He was simply curious.
And curiosity, Sylvan knew, could be dangerous when it was allowed to grow.
He folded his arms.
His gaze became distant.
She had gotten into his head.
That was the truth.
And he didn’t like it.
He remembered the library.
“You aren’t wearing a maid’s uniform.”
Her answer.
“I don’t always wear one.”
He had asked another question.
She had avoided it.
Then another.
She had avoided that too.
Every answer she gave seemed to create another question.
And when he finally tried to stop her from leaving—
she ran.
Sylvan almost smiled at the memory.
Almost.
The faintest movement touched the corner of his mouth before disappearing.
She had actually run from him.
Most people tried desperately to remain near him.
She had done the opposite.
She had done everything possible to disappear.
It was…
unusual.
His eyes drifted toward the doors once more.
Still no sign of her.
Something about that absence bothered him.
Not deeply.
Not painfully.
Just enough.
Enough to make him notice.
Enough to make him look again.
Enough to make him wonder.
He exhaled quietly.
“Strange girl.”
The words escaped under his breath.
He immediately regretted saying them aloud, even though no one appeared to have heard.
His gaze lowered.
He should forget her.
That would be easiest.
The Ashfords would leave after the wedding celebrations.
The Valemont castle would return to normal.
And that strange girl would become nothing more than a brief memory.
That should have been the end of it.
Yet somewhere in the back of his mind, another thought appeared.
What if he saw her again?
Sylvan’s eyes lifted.
For the first time, he didn’t push the thought away immediately.
Instead, he allowed himself to wonder.
Would she avoid him again?
Would she run?
Would she finally tell him who she was?
His curiosity deepened.
Not enough to make him chase her.
Not enough to make him forget himself.
But enough to make the walls around his mind shift slightly.
A crack.
Small.
Almost invisible.
But there.
Sylvan Ashford had spent years keeping people at a distance.
He trusted slowly.
He cared carefully.
He rarely allowed anyone to disturb his peace.
Yet a girl he barely knew had managed to do exactly that without even trying.
She hadn’t asked for his attention.
She hadn’t tried to impress him.
She hadn’t even wanted him near her.
And somehow, that made him think about her even more.
His eyes wandered toward the corridor one final time.
Empty.
Sylvan looked away.
He told himself he didn’t care.
But somewhere beneath that cold certainty, curiosity remained.
Quiet.
Persistent.
Unwelcome.
And for the first time in years, Sylvan Ashford had encountered someone he couldn’t understand.
Someone who had somehow slipped past the walls he had built so carefully around himself.
A girl whose name he barely knew.
A girl who had done almost nothing.
And yet—
she had gotten under his skin.