The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

August drank from a glass as a knock sounded at the door. Samir moved quickly to open it, admitting a servant carrying a large wooden tray laden with food.

"Your Highness, your midday meal is served hot," the servant said with a low bow. "Allow me to set the table for you and your knight."

August stood up from the recliner and sat on the chair at the round table, gesturing to Samir to join him. The servant retreated toward the door and walked out after serving them.

The two men ate together in quiet satisfaction, enjoying the rich flavors of the meal.

"The chicken here is remarkably good," August noted, taking another bite. "Tender and well-seasoned."

"I agree. Your Highness, this is the first time the people have cheered for you in such a manner," Samir said, a warm smile gracing his features. "I believe you ought to send word to the King, your father, regarding what transpired today."

"There is no need to send a message," August replied. "I would far prefer he hears of it directly from the mouth of the people."

"That is well," Samir agreed, nodding. "His Majesty will surely be proud."

"I wonder," August murmured quietly. A beat passed, and he glanced up with a smirk. "Tell me, did I look dashing there while passing the verdict?"

"You did, Your Highness. Your words moved the crowd to tears."

"Then I touched their hearts," August said, a subtle hint of satisfaction in his voice. Returning his focus to his plate, he quickly finished the rest of his meal. Once they were done, Samir rang the bell to summon the servant to clear the table.

"I am going out for a short while. You need not follow me," August stated firmly.

"What do you mean, Your Highness?" Samir asked, looking perplexed as the servant began clearing the table. Rising to his feet, he added, "Your safety cannot be compromised."

"I am well aware," August replied. "However, I wish to observe the town myself, without a guard in tow. I might uncover further matters that require my attention."

Samir let out a low hum and watched the servant depart with the tray. Closing the door securely behind him, he turned back to the prince with a solemn expression.

"The noble families will be furious over today’s ruling, Your Highness. You stripped away titles and dismissed the District Magistrate without hesitation. You have undoubtedly made dangerous enemies today."

"Then I shall simply rid myself of them, Samir," August stated calmly, disappearing into the washroom.

~~~~

Eilika dabbed the towel against her damp face before glancing up, surprised to find the dining table laden with a lavish spread of dishes while Damian waited for her.

"Come, let us have our lunch," he said, gesturing for the servants to begin serving. He rose from his seat and stepped behind hers, pulling out the chair and ensuring she was comfortably seated before returning to his place.

"Thank you," Eilika murmured softly. Unfolding her linen napkin, she settled it across her lap, then lifted her spoon to begin with the soup.

Eilika found the spices quite different from those used in Varos, but the flavor pleased her, and she took several more spoonfuls before turning her attention to the other dishes. Once everything was served, the servants quietly bowed and withdrew, leaving the two of them in privacy.

"I sent word to Mother regarding our safe arrival," Damian remarked.

"What about my letter? I also—"

"Do not fret. I dispatched yours as well," Damian reassured her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "We shall go out once we finish our lunch. The climate here is far cooler than in the rest of the kingdom, and a theatrical drama will start in the city center in the evening. We can attend the event together."

Eilika readily agreed to the idea. "It’s been long since we last watch any theatrical performance."

They both turned quiet and focused on their meals. Once they finished it, Damian called the servants to clean the table while Eilika went to the balcony to check the view outside. Her eyes widened seeing the distant mountain covered with snow.

Damian paused beside her, gesturing toward the horizon. "Have you ever visited the mountains?"

"Never," Eilika replied, shaking her head.

"We could travel there," Damian suggested. "The northern peaks are held to be sacred. A tribe dwells among them who worship the mountain spirits."

"Really? I would love to meet them," Eilika said, her interest instantly piqued.

"We shall go there in the coming days," Damian said softly.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close against him. Turning her gently to face forward, he held her from behind, resting his chin lightly on her shoulder as they gazed out together.

~~~~~~

Sylvian stepped out of the motorcar as it pulled up before the capital’s grand art gallery. Ascending the red carpet draped over the marble steps, he entered the high-ceiling hall, where members of the aristocracy were already mingling beneath the chandeliers.

Several prominent figures stepped forward to offer their greetings, and line of noble families made deliberate attempts to introduce their eligible daughters.

Offering polite pleasantries, Sylvian navigated through the crowd to reach the quieter, less frequented wings of the venue.

He paused before a large canvas mounted in the alcove, studying the central subject, an angel descending toward the earth.

"I recognize the artist," a lady’s voice remarked beside him. Sylvian did not turn to look at her. "Victor Anderson, from the West. The piece suggests that even angels cannot remain in heaven indefinitely."

"I do not view the piece in that manner," Sylvian replied calmly. "To me, it appears the angel descends by choice."

He turned to take his leave, but her next words halted him.

"I am Isabelle Allison."

Sylvian turned back to face her because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. "I hope you enjoy the exhibition, Lady Isabelle." Offering a brief nod, he turned to walk away, his thoughts drifting to Iliana, whose absence weighed on him. He had fully expected to see her here tonight.

"Your Highness, I was to be your betrothed," Isabelle said behind him.

Her words brought Sylvian to a sudden halt.

"Your mother sent a formal proposal to my family two weeks ago," Isabelle explained, stepping closer. "With everything that transpired shortly after, I was unable to visit the palace to meet you."

"Then you must surely know that proposal holds no weight," Sylvian replied calmly, without looking back at her. "Nor do I intend to wed a bride chosen by my mother."

"I understand you are bitter after what your mother did," Isabelle said, stepping forward until she stood directly in his path. "Yet I would still have you as my husband."

"Forgive me, but my heart is already spoken for," Sylvian replied, delivering the blunt truth to extinguish any expectation. It was the simplest way to deter Isabelle and any other candidate his mother had courted in the past.

Isabelle stood frozen, caught off guard by the revelation. "May I ask who she is, Your Highness?"

"I am not in the habit of sharing my personal affairs with a stranger," Sylvian said coldly.

He stepped around her, heading deeper into the secluded wings of the gallery where few guests were likely to venture.

He sat on the bench, letting out a heavy sigh as he wondered if Iliana had rejected his suit. The realization of his feelings had come upon him suddenly, yet he hoped she would give him a chance.

"Your Highness, there is a young woman outside insisting she was invited by you," the gallery manager informed him, bowing deferentially.

"Who is she?" Sylvian asked, rising immediately to his feet.

"She claims her name is Iliana, Your Highness," the manager replied, hesitation in his voice. "Though, judging by her modest attire, she bears little resemblance to a noble lady. Still, she carries an invitation bearing the exclusive mark of the royal house."

"Escort her in at once," Sylvian commanded. "She is my esteemed guest."

The manager bowed hastily and withdrew.

"Iliana is here," Sylvian murmured, a broad smile breaking across his face. He tapped his foot in restless anticipation until he finally caught the sound of soft, measured steps approaching through the corridor. Lifting his head, he saw Iliana standing just behind the manager.

"Ensure we are not disturbed," Sylvian instructed the man, who bowed low and promptly exited.

Iliana offered a formal curtsy, honoring the protocol due to royalty.

"There is no need for such formality," Sylvian said, closing the distance between them.

Iliana looked up, maintaining her modest posture. "The guards refused me entry at first. The gallery is filled with high-society patrons," she said, glancing down at her plain attire with a small laugh. "I felt entirely out of place."

"You are radiant, regardless of how simply you dress," Sylvian said, stopping just a step away. "Thank you for making the journey to the capital to meet me. I have been waiting for you."

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