Damian rose early the next morning, careful not to wake Eilika. After washing and dressing, he instructed his valet to ensure the maids left her undisturbed for the time being.

Stepping out of the chambers, he went to find his son. A servant intercepted him, saying, "Your Grace, Prince Sylvian has taken the young master to the stables."

Damian recalled his unfulfilled promise to teach the boy how to ride; business had always kept him occupied. He headed to the grounds and found Roman mounted on a horse, with Sylvian beside him, giving firm instructions on posture and how to hold the reins.

Damian stepped closer, his boots crunching softly on the stable ground. "It seems your uncle has already taught you quite a bit, Roman."

"Father! Good morning," Roman greeted, his face brightening as he adjusted his grip.

"Good morning," Damian replied. He reached out to stroke the bridge of Titan’s nose, and the pony tossed its head, letting out a soft whinny.

Sylvian offered a knowing smile, catching Damian’s gaze. "I’ll leave you two to it," he said, backing away to give them space.

Damian took the reins from where they rested on the pommel, his touch steady. He gave a gentle pull, guiding the pony forward into a slow, rhythmic walk. "Don’t lean," he instructed, his voice firm but encouraging. "Keep your eyes forward and your posture straight. Let the pony find its rhythm, and you’ll find yours."

Roman nodded with nervousness excitement on his face. Damian led the pony through a full lap of the grounds, maintaining a steady, controlled pace.

"Now, you try it without my direct support," Damian said. "I’ll walk right beside Titan, so there is no need to be frightened. Just remember, don’t pull the reins too hard or you will spook him."

Roman hesitated as his father stepped back, his small hands gripping the reins tightly. Damian kept a close watch, walking alongside the pony.

As Roman followed his father’s instructions, his anxiety made him tense up, and he pulled back sharply on the leather.

Damian reached out, gently covering Roman’s hands to guide him. "Too tight, Roman," he said quietly. "Loosen your grip. You have to let him move."

"Y-yes, Father," Roman replied. He took a steadying breath, adjusted his grip on the leather, and focused on keeping his back straight. Damian stepped back to give the boy space but maintained a steady pace alongside the pony, his gaze locked on his son’s hands to ensure they remained soft.

"That’s it, just like that," Damian said, his voice dropping into a tone of encouragement. "You’re doing great, Roman."

As the pony trotted forward, Roman’s shoulders dropped from their stiff, anxious position. His confidence grew with every stride Titan took. By the time they rounded the final corner to complete the lap, his movements had become far more fluid.

Damian brought the pony to a halt, clapped his hands in approval, and stepped forward to pat Titan’s neck.

"You did a great job, little buddy," he said to the animal, making sure the pony knew he was appreciated. He turned his attention back to his son. "This is how you build trust with your mount, Roman. Always reward him when he listens. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father!" Roman said, beaming as he reached out to gently stroke the pony’s nose.

Damian offered a proud smile and reached up to help Roman dismount. As the boy slid from the saddle, Damian caught him, his hands firm around Roman’s waist as he set him on the ground. A soldier stepped forward to take the reins from them.

"Eat well, Titan. I’ll come see you this evening," Roman whispered. Leaning slightly in his father’s arms, he reached out to press a quick, affectionate kiss to the pony’s velvet nose. Titan responded with a soft, gentle whinny, nudging Roman’s palm before the soldier led him away toward the stables.

Roman turned his attention to his father, his eyes bright with accomplishment. "Father, did I do well for my first time?"

"You were incredible," Damian replied, his voice warm.

"I promise I’ll keep practicing," Roman said, his tone brimming with new determination. "You’re going to be so proud of me."

Damian smoothed the boy’s hair, his expression softening as they began the walk back toward the mansion. "Don’t push yourself too hard, Roman. The important thing is to enjoy what you’re doing."

"Understood, Father," Roman said, resting his chin on Damian’s broad shoulder.

~~~~~ 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Eilika stirred on the mattress, stretching an arm out before her eyes fluttered open, one by one. She sat up, immediately noting the empty space beside her where Damian had been. The surroundings felt unusually quiet.

"Have I slept in late again?" she murmured, sliding out of bed.

She called for Joanna, but when the heavy door clicked open, it was Damian who stepped inside. He was already dressed in his formal attire, looking composed and sharp, a stark contrast to Eilika, who felt disheveled by comparison.

"My apologies," Damian said, pausing at the threshold. "I thought you were still resting. I can return later."

"No, don’t," Eilika replied, rising to her feet to address him. "I’ll call for Joanna to help me prepare. Did you sleep well, my lord?"

"My lord?" Damian arched a brow, a flicker of genuine amusement crossing his face.

Eilika’s grin widened, her eyes bright with mischief as she stood before him. "Hmm. Since you are officially my husband now, I thought it only proper to use a respectful title. Or would you prefer something like ’darling’ instead?"

Damian kept his expression neutral, though a faint smile touched his lips. "’My lord’ is fine," he replied.

Eilika wasn’t about to let him off so easily. She crossed her arms, her playful smile lingering. "Fair enough. But if you’re going to be so formal, then you had better come up with a more affectionate title for me as well."

"I prefer your name as it is," Damian replied.

Eilika clicked her tongue, feigning exasperation. "You are truly a dreadfully unromantic husband. What am I meant to say to the ladies this afternoon? If they ask how my husband expresses his devotion, I’ll have to craft an entire list of lies just to keep up appearances."

"Is that a complaint?" Damian asked, his brow lifting in challenge.

"Maybe a little," she conceded with a shrug.

"Then tell them exactly that," he said, unfazed. "Tell them the Duke loves using your name above all else."

He turned toward the wardrobe, his attention shifting as he opened the cupboard to retrieve a file. Eilika watched him, the playfulness in her expression softening into a quiet observation as he returned his focus to the day’s business.

"I will return late," Damian said, his voice even. "Roman will be occupied with his lessons for most of the day. As for those ladies you are meeting this afternoon, well, do your best to concoct a convincing enough story regarding our wedding night."

"And what if I am caught?" Eilika muttered, her fingers drifting nervously to the sensitive skin of her neck. "A forehead kiss is sweet, but it hardly serves as proof of a marriage. Surely, as husband and wife, I am entitled to expect more? Forgive me if I am overstepping." She bit her lower lip, her gaze dropping to the floor.

Damian’s grip tightened on the file, the edges of the paper creasing under his fingers. Her words struck a chord, unsettling the carefully constructed distance he maintained.

A true kiss felt like a violation of the boundaries he had set, a bridge he could not cross until he felt something, anything beyond this current detachment.

"Forgive me, Eilika, for failing to meet your expectations," Damian said, his tone blunt and entirely without artifice. "But you must bear with me. I have no romantic feelings for you yet, and I refuse to feign affection for the sake of appearances. I will not kiss you until I mean it."

Eilika felt the sting of his bluntness, but she masked the hurt with a calm, composed expression. She forced an indifferent smile, though it did not reach her eyes.

"I was only teasing, Damian. I don’t expect a kiss, and I assure you, I have no intention of kissing you until I feel something for you either."

She turned on her heel and strode out of the room, leaving a heavy silence in her wake. Damian stood motionless, the file still gripped in his hand.

"I assumed she already had feelings for me," he murmured to himself. He couldn’t quite name the strange, unsettled sensation that gripped him at her declaration. Why did it bother him so much that she wouldn’t kiss him until she actually loved him?

He shook the thought away, forcing himself to refocus. Dwelling on Eilika was a distraction he couldn’t afford. There were more pressing matters at hand; he needed to uncover exactly what Liliana had been doing behind his back, hidden from his sight until Maurice told him a devastating truth about her.