In the evening, Joanna helped Eilika dress in a gown of deep red velvet.

"The Duke visited while you were resting after the archery match," Joanna mentioned softly, her hands steady as she began to comb through Eilika’s hair. "But before he could speak with you, you were already deep in sleep. Are you upset with His Grace, Your Highness?"

"I was simply tired, so I decided to rest," Eilika answered.

She kept her gaze fixed on her reflection, hiding the fact that her sudden slumber had been as much a retreat from her frustration as it was from exhaustion.

Joanna fell quiet, sensing the tension, and focused on her work. When the hair was finally styled into an elegant arrangement, Joanna fastened a necklace of gold and diamonds around Eilika’s neck, followed by the matching earrings. The delicate curls left at her temples softened her features, while the careful application of makeup completely obscured the scar on her cheek.

Eilika stared at the woman in the mirror, thanking Joanna for doing such a wonderful job. Yet, as she stood up, the memory of Damian’s mirrored shots still stung. He had treated the match like a shadow play rather than a true test of skill.

"You look breathtaking, Your Highness," Joanna whispered, stepping back to admire her work. "The Duke is waiting for you in the drawing room."

Eilika smoothed the velvet over her hips, her fingers grazing the rich fabric as she took a steadying breath. Lifting her skirts slightly to ensure her stride remained graceful, she stepped out of the chamber.

She froze. Standing in the hall was Damian, looking strikingly different.

He had actually worn the wine-colored silk shirt she had gifted him, pairing it with a tailored white blazer and trousers.

The deep red of the silk against the white made him look exceptionally regal, and dangerously handsome.

For a fleeting moment, the sting of the archery match vanished, replaced by the traitorous rhythm of her own heart.

"Mama! Father is wearing the same color as your gown!" Roman exclaimed, his face lighting up with pure joy as he pointed between them.

Georgia turned her head, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of her daughter-in-law. "My God, Eilika... you look absolutely breathtaking," she complimented, her voice warm with genuine admiration.

Roman nodded vigorously in agreement with his grandmother before trotting over to Eilika’s side. He tugged gently on her hand to make her lean down, then whispered into her ear, "Mama, please do enjoy the outing with my father."

Eilika offered the boy a soft smile and placed a gentle hand over his head, smoothing his hair.

"I will, Roman," she murmured, though her gaze involuntarily flickered back to Damian.

He was watching her with an expression she couldn’t read. Then, he walked to her and said, "Roman, do not wait up for us. Go to sleep once you have finished your supper."

"Understood, Father!" the boy chirped, offering a final wave before scurrying back to Georgia, who settled her hands protectively on his shoulders.

Damian extended his hand to Eilika. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, the memory of the archery range still fresh, before placing her palm against his.

His grip was firm and steady as he secured her hand and led her forward.

Eilika turned her head one last time to wave at Roman and offered a respectful bow to her mother-in-law before they stepped out.

The black motorcar waited for them near the entrance. Damian held the door as she climbed in, her red velvet skirts pooling around her legs, before he slid in beside her. Maurice shut the door and climbed into the front passenger seat.

Maurice instructed the driver.

As the car began to roll down the gravel drive, the interior fell into a silence. The scent of Damian’s cologne, sandalwood and something musky reached Eilika.

She looked ahead, then out the window, her fingers fidgeting restlessly against the velvet of her gown.

When they finally reached their destination, Maurice stepped out first, his sharp eyes scanning the perimeter to ensure everything was in order before he formally opened the door for the Duke.

Damian exited the car. He paused, bending slightly to offer his hand to Eilika. She took it, feeling the warmth of his palm against her chilled fingers as he helped her onto the pavement.

Once she was steady, he tucked her hand firmly into the crook of his arm. Together, they began the ascent up the grand staircase.

As they reached the top of the stairs, the massive gold-leafed doors swung open.

Damian and Eilika went to the front seat of the house of music and sat on the grand sofa. He opened the buttons of his blazer and leaned back onto the sofa.

"Are you still upset with me?" Damian asked.

Eilika turned her head toward him. "Why didn’t you use your full potential? I know that as a Duke, and as a man who has seen battle, you are much more skilled than what you showed today."

Damian didn’t miss a beat. "The air wasn’t in my favor, Eilika. Even a Duke cannot command the wind."

"Liar!"

The word was a lash on him. Damian’s head tilted instantly, his gaze snapping to hers. The "liar" wasn’t an insult; it was a challenge to the wall he kept between them.

Eilika felt the heat of his stare and quickly averted her own.

"I would have felt better if I had lost with honesty. But you cheated. You managed it to look like a tie," Eilika muttered as she noticed a couple approaching them from the edge of the music hall.

Damian didn’t look away. He kept his gaze locked on her, ignoring the crowd and the pair that had just come to a halt a few feet away.

"Greetings to the Duke and the Duchess," Jamie Wilter said humbly, bowing low. As a prominent banker in Varos, he was used to being acknowledged, yet he found himself standing in an awkward silence.

When Damian offered no response, Eilika, Jamie, and his wife all turned their gazes toward the Duke.