For a long moment after the clash had ended, no one moved.

The air still smelled of smoke and burning wood. Somewhere behind them, part of Virellion Square was still crackling in flames, while people shouted for water and guards barked orders through the chaos. But Rosaline heard none of it clearly.

Her entire attention was fixed on the man standing before her.

Xandros.

Blood streaked the side of his neck....not his own, she hoped....and his dark coat was stained in several places, the black fabric swallowing the evidence of violence so thoroughly it almost looked natural on him. His sword was still in his hand, its silver edge dripping scarlet onto the stones.

He looked terrifying.

And somehow, impossibly.....

he looked angrier than she had ever seen him.

Not annoyed.

Not amused.

Angry.

At her.

Or because of her.

She could not tell which felt worse.

Rosaline finally breathed.

The sound escaped her in a shaky rush.

Matthew, who had until that point been standing half in front of her in an instinctive protective stance, suddenly shifted again, widening his shoulders as if remembering his duty too late.

Xandros noticed.

His gray eyes lifted slowly toward the young man.

The temperature around them seemed to drop.

"Who," he asked quietly, "is this?"

The softness in his voice made it worse.

Rosaline immediately stepped forward.

"I know him," she said quickly.

Xandros’ gaze snapped back to her.

She swallowed.

"He helped us."

Matthew looked between the two of them, confusion wrinkling his face.

"Wait...."

Rosaline turned toward him and, still trying to catch her breath, said, "Matthew... this is my husband."

Silence.

Matthew blinked.

Then blinked again.

His face drained of color.

"Your... what?"

Before Rosaline could answer, another figure appeared from behind Xandros.

Seth.

He stepped neatly beside the Duke, glanced once at Rosaline to confirm she was unharmed, then bowed respectfully.

"Your Grace."

Matthew’s jaw dropped.

His eyes darted from Seth...

to Xandros...

to Rosaline.

And realization struck him like lightning.

His knees nearly buckled.

"The Duchess..." he whispered.

Rosaline winced internally.

Yes.

That.

The poor man looked as though every reckless choice he had made in life had returned at once to personally punish him.

He bowed so abruptly he nearly hit his forehead on the pavement.

"My lord...I...I didn’t know..."

Xandros ignored him.

Instead, he looked only at Rosaline.

"Rosaline."

The sound of her name from his lips....without princess, without duchess...made her stiffen.

"Yes?" she answered weakly.

"Carriage."

That was all.

No explanation.

No scolding.

Just one word.

But somehow it sounded like an order she could not refuse.

Before Rosaline could react, Seth stepped forward smoothly.

"Your Grace," he said gently to her, "allow me."

Rosaline looked back once at Matthew.

He looked miserable.

She softened.

"He truly helped us," she said to Xandros before moving away. "Please don’t punish him."

Xandros’ gaze shifted toward Matthew again.

The poor man visibly flinched.

Then the Duke said, in a flat tone, "That was what he was supposed to do."

Matthew looked utterly baffled.

Rosaline frowned.

What did that mean?

But before she could ask, Lily tugged softly on her sleeve.

"My lady," she whispered urgently, "please. Let us go."

Rosaline nodded.

And allowed Seth to guide her toward the waiting carriage.

The ride back to the mansion was suffocatingly quiet.

Lily sat opposite her, both hands folded tightly in her lap, watching Rosaline with careful concern.

Rosaline herself could barely sit still.

She had washed some of the blood from her fingers with the water Seth provided before they left, but she could still feel it.

Warm.

Sticky.

On her skin.

And every time she closed her eyes.....

she saw Xandros standing there.

Covered in blood.

Looking at her as though she had frightened him.

That part confused her most.

Why had he looked frightened?

Lily reached across the carriage and gently squeezed her hand.

"You’re shaking."

Rosaline blinked.

She was.

"I’m fine," she whispered.

Lily raised a brow.

"No, you are not."

Rosaline looked away.

Outside the window, the capital lights blurred past.

The excitement she had felt earlier...the joy of freedom, of exploration....had completely vanished.

Now there was only embarrassment.

And something else.

Something warm and uncomfortable that sat low in her chest.

When they finally arrived at the mansion, Rosaline exited the carriage without waiting for assistance.

She barely acknowledged the servants greeting her.

She walked straight through the halls and toward her chamber, her footsteps quick and uneven.

Lily followed immediately.

The moment the doors shut behind them, Rosaline began pacing.

One end of the room to the other.

Then back again.

Then again.

Lily watched her for almost a full minute before speaking.

"You are going to wear a hole into the floor."

Rosaline turned sharply.

"He was angry."

"Yes."

"He was very angry."

"Yes."

Rosaline pointed dramatically toward the door.

"He looked like death itself."

"That is not unusual for him."

"That is not helping."

Lily sighed.

Then moved closer.

"My princess..."

"Duchess," Rosaline corrected automatically, then looked offended by her own correction.

Lily smiled despite herself.

"My duchess," she amended, "you survived."

Rosaline stopped pacing.

That was true.

"But he was furious."

"Yes."

"And he saw everything."

"Yes."

"And I nearly died."

Lily nodded thoughtfully.

"Yes."

Rosaline stared at her.

"Why are you agreeing so much?"

"Because perhaps," Lily said carefully, "you should sleep before he comes back and murders you."

Rosaline gasped.

Lily laughed.

"I am joking."

"You are not."

"I am only half-joking."

Rosaline groaned dramatically and buried her face in her hands.

Lily softened.

"Come. Let me help you wash."

The bath was warm.

Far warmer than Rosaline usually preferred.

But tonight she needed it.

She sat in the large marble tub while Lily gently poured scented water over her shoulders, washing away the dust, soot, and lingering traces of blood from Virellion Square.

Rosaline closed her eyes.

Her body slowly relaxed.

Yet her mind did not.

"He came for me," she whispered suddenly.

Lily paused.

"Yes."

"He knew where I was."

"Yes."

"He stayed with Matthew."

Lily blinked.

"That... yes, apparently."

Rosaline opened her eyes.

"Why?"

Lily had no answer.

And that frightened both of them.

Afterward, Rosaline changed into a soft ivory nightdress, far simpler than the usual gowns.

Lily brushed out her long white hair until it fell like silk over her shoulders.

Then she kissed her forehead.

"Sleep."

Rosaline nodded.

Lily left.

And Rosaline climbed into bed.

She could not sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes...

she saw him.

His face.

His bloodied hands.

His voice saying her name.

Rosaline groaned softly and pulled the blanket completely over herself like a child hiding from monsters.

Only this monster wore tailored black and had gray eyes.

At some point....

she heard footsteps.

Her body froze.

The door opened.

She squeezed her eyes shut instantly.

Pretending.

Breathing evenly.

Not moving.

The footsteps approached slowly.

Rosaline could hear her own heartbeat pounding inside her ears.

The bed dipped slightly.

He was close.

Very close.

She wanted to peek.

She refused.

Then she heard soft fabric shifting.

And water being poured.

He was cleaning himself.

A few moments later...

the mattress moved again.

He had laid down.

Beside her.

Rosaline nearly stopped breathing.

The blanket over her face suddenly shifted.

A hand gently lowered it enough for her nose and mouth to remain uncovered.

So she could breathe.

Her heart jolted.

Then silence.

Long silence.

Eventually.....

his breathing deepened.

He had fallen asleep.

And Rosaline lay awake for nearly an hour wondering why that tiny act...pulling the blanket down...felt more intimate than the kiss he had given her.

He had known immediately she was not asleep.

Her breathing was too dramatic.

Too intentional.

Her fingers had curled when he approached.

But he said nothing.

Because if he acknowledged it...

she would bolt.

And tonight, after seeing her nearly covered in blood...

he was too tired to chase her.

He had not expected fear.

He had expected irritation.

Perhaps relief.

Not fear.

The moment he had seen that rogith close enough to touch her...

something dark inside him had erupted.

He did not like it.

That kind of loss of control was dangerous.

Especially for someone like him.

Especially around someone like her.

Which was why he stayed silent.

And slept.

On the bed, right beside her.

Morning came gently.

Rosaline woke slowly.

Then instantly remembered yesterday.

Her eyes flew open.

She sat up.

The space beside her was empty.

She touched it.

Cool.

Unused.

A smile spread across her face immediately.

"He left."

Relief flooded her.

Then....

a voice answered.

"No."

Rosaline screamed.

Her head snapped toward the couch near the window.

And there...

In another dark clothing, one arm behind his head, looking infuriatingly relaxed...

was Xandros.

Watching her.

Awake.

And smirking.

"I am right here."