Damian finally turned to look at Jamie, a sharp smile touching his lips. It didn’t reach his eyes, and the banker instinctively took a half-step back, sensing the frost beneath the Duke’s royal composure.

Jamie and his wife offered a hasty bow, murmuring their excuses before disappearing into the crowd, clearly sensing that the Duke was in no mood for pleasantries.

"What’s this cold attitude?" Eilika asked in a low hiss as they began to move through the hall.

"You’re the reason. You called me a liar," Damian answered, his gaze fixed forward now, his jaw set in a hard line.

Eilika arched her eyebrows, tilting her head to catch his eye. "Because you were lying. Fine, I apologize. Now, please, respond to people’s greetings with a bit of humility."

"Sis!"

Rosaline’s voice suddenly reached their ears. Eilika lifted her head to see her sister standing a few feet away, her eyes anchored firmly on Damian with a look that was far too lingering to be mere sisterly respect.

Damian, however, didn’t spare her a glance. His focus remained entirely on Eilika’s side profile, as if the space around them were empty.

"Your Grace, good evening," Rosaline finally greeted, her voice dropping into a melodic lilt.

"Maurice," Damian ordered coldly, not even breaking his stride. "Don’t let anyone else approach us."

Maurice stepped forward instantly, his large frame creating a physical barrier. He gave a sharp nod to Rosaline, signaling for her to step back.

"But I’m related to you, Your Grace! I’m not a stranger," Rosaline pointed out, her voice rising in frustration as she tried to sidestep the bodyguard. "My sister is your wife. Surely that entitles me to a moment of your time?"

"We can talk later," Eilika told Rosaline, her voice calm but firm. "The musical is going to start shortly, and this is not the place for mingling."

"You heard the Duchess. Please leave," Maurice added.

Rosaline was fuming, her face twisting in a momentary lapse of her composed mask, but she chose to remain silent.

She turned sharply and disappeared into the growing crowd of nobles gathering in the grand hall.

A servant quietly approached Damian and Eilika, offering refreshments on a silver tray. Damian took a glass of deep red wine that perfectly matched his shirt, while Eilika opted for a light sparkling water.

The chatter of the elite began to subside as the overhead crystal chandeliers dimmed, casting the hall into a soft glow. The heavy velvet curtains on the stage parted, and the spotlight fell upon the grand piano.

The pianist stepped forward, bowing to the royal couple first before taking his seat.

"Isn’t he..." Eilika whispered, her breath hitching as she recognized the man on stage.

It was Sylvian Van Kingsley.

She pursed her lips, forcing her surprise down so she could focus entirely on the performance.

Seeing the Crown Prince’s younger brother, a member of the highest royal bloodline, seated at the piano in front of such a massive crowd was a revelation.

It was clear the royalty of this land held a deep, humble respect for the arts; they didn’t view such a profession as a limitation to a man’s status, but rather an extension of it.

Sylvian placed his long, slender fingers over the ivory keys and began to play. The chords he played fill the hushed hall with a melody that seemed to pull at the very soul.

Throughout the performance, Damian’s gaze rarely drifted to the stage. He remained turned toward Eilika’s. She looked captivated, her usual guarded expression melting into something soft and genuinely attentive.

As the music reached a crescendo, Damian leaned in slightly, his shoulder brushing against hers.

Sylvian struck the final high note that seemed to shiver in the air long after his fingers left the keys.

The hall erupted in a thunderous round of applause.

Sylvian stood, his expression one of humble grace as he bowed his head slightly toward the couple and the gathered nobility.

"That was a truly wonderful performance," Eilika stated, a genuine, radiant smile breaking across her face.

Damian merely hummed in response, reaching for his wine glass once more. Before his fingers could close around the stem, Eilika deftly snatched it from him and placed it back on the silver tray placed on the table before them.

"Didn’t you like it?" she whispered, her eyes searching his.

"I have seen him perform many times," Damian replied. "Indeed, it was good. He has not lost his touch."

Eilika shook her head at his stoicism, a small huff of amusement escaping her. She adjusted her posture, sitting up straight as Sylvian himself approached their row.

With the ease of someone born to the palace, he settled into the blue velvet chair directly beside them.

"Damian, thank you for coming with the Duchess," Sylvian murmured, his voice low so as not to disturb the next performer currently stepping onto the stage.

"I hope the melody was to your liking, Duchess." He then gazed at Eilika.

Eilika felt the weight of both men’s gazes, Sylvian’s friendly curiosity and Damian’s quiet, observant intensity.

"Yes," she replied with a smile, then looked at the stage.

An hour later, the musical ended. Damian and Eilika were first to leave with Sylvian, who traveled in the same car with them to their mansion.

"Since when did Damian start wearing such colors?" Sylvian smirked from the front passenger’s seats. Maurice was behind their car, the one in which Sylvian had come.

Eilika gazed at the Duke, wondering what he would tell his cousin.

"Wine suits me," Damian replied.

Sylvian laughed at his statement. "Eilika, you have changed him."

"What?!" She was flustered to hear that. "No one can change the Duke. He has this cold gaze all the time." She gave a short glare to Damian, then looked at Sylvian, "You play so well. The performance ended too soon."

"Thank you for the compliment. I’m glad you liked my performance this much," Sylvian replied. "You look so much better than the last time, Eilika."