Rosalind smiled at the man she had been waiting for these past few days. He looked just the same—unchanged since the day he left.If there was anything different, it was the faint weariness etched into that handsome face of his.
She gently tightened her grip on her own hands and led Dorian toward the dining room."Have you been riding all day, my lord? Your hands feel like they're about to freeze."
He looked at her, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips."I was in a hurry..." he leaned close to her ear, whispering just loud enough for only the two of them to hear.
"I missed you."
Her heart skipped a beat. For a moment, time stilled, and her fingers trembled where they curled against her palm. She looked at him again, uncertain, hoping and afraid all at once.
"You must be joking again..."
Even in the flickering glow of the candelabras lining the hallway, Dorian could still see the faint blush rising on her cheeks.It made his smile deepen.
"...Ah, do we have a guest?" Dorian leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing toward her.
"Oh—yes, a guest from the capital," Rosalind suddenly remembered that Theodore was still waiting in the dining room.
"But... how did you know?"
Dorian replied nonchalantly, "I saw the carriage outside the manor."
And with that, he strode ahead, gently pulling her along.
"Come now... as the host, we shouldn't keep our guest waiting."
When they arrived at the dining hall, Maera and Theodore were still there, waiting.
The steward of the manor quickly bowed upon seeing the two heads of the household.
"Welcome home, Your Grace."
Theodore stood as well, adjusted his attire, and offered a polite bow as the pair approached.
"Greetings, Your Grace. It's an honor to meet you. I am..."
"Theodore Lennox... Welcome, Marquis."
Dorian stepped forward before Theodore could finish his sentence.
Theodore was briefly taken aback—this was their first time meeting face-to-face.
"I didn't expect the Duke to already know my name... I'm honored."
Dorian raised a brow, his gaze locking onto Theodore with such intensity that it made the man feel slightly breathless.
"Of course I do. How could I not know the Marquis..." He reached out and drew Rosalind closer.
A smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "You're a friend of my wife, after all." There was something pointed in the way he said it—subtle, but unmistakable.
Theodore caught it. A message, perhaps. And though his lips curved into a polite smile, something cold settled in his chest.
Rosalind blinked in surprise, staring up at him with wide eyes.
She was sure she had never mentioned Theodore to him before—so how did he know?
Dorian's left hand gently stroked the one Rosalind had curled tightly around his.
There was no longer any coldness in his eyes, only tenderness and quiet reassurance.
As if to say: Leave everything to me.
But even then, she noticed it—the faint stiffness at the corners of his lips.
It felt like he was smiling... to hide something.
Her heart gave a faint, inexplicable flutter.
For the first time, she sensed that the faint smile on his lips felt... a little forced.
Dorian Valemont was clearly plotting something.
Observing the atmosphere between the two, Theodore couldn't help but feel a flicker of surprise.
They seemed... closer than he had imagined. At the very least, the Duke of Valemont appeared to care deeply for Rosalind.
He's not what I imagined, Theodore admitted to himself.
He had expected someone colder. Distant. Calculating.
But this... was different.
There's something different in his eyes when he looks at her. Softer. As if she's the only person who could reach him.
And for some reason, that quiet realization made something twist inside his chest.
"Come now, dinner's getting cold. You've both had a long day," Rosalind said as she gently guided Dorian toward the seat prepared for him, then gestured for Theodore to sit as well.
"Let's just rest for tonight. We can begin with business tomorrow."
"You're right, milady. I must admit, I'm starting to feel quite hungry myself," Theodore replied with a relaxed smile.
"I hope the food suits your taste, Marquis."
"You know me, milady... I'm not a picky eater," he said with a chuckle.
Seated beside Rosalind, Dorian remained silent, quietly listening to their exchange as he leisurely sipped his wine.
The drink touched his tongue—milder than usual.
Instead of the usual harsh burn, a gentle warmth spread across his mouth and slowly down into his stomach.
It wasn't strong enough to intoxicate, but just enough to keep the cold at bay.
Clearly, this was a herbal wine.
He frowned slightly. It wasn't the first time he had tasted this kind of drink, but he hadn't expected to be served it while entertaining a guest.
Just as suspicion flickered through his mind, he caught the glint of excitement in Rosalind's eyes as she looked at him.
"Does it taste bad?" she asked softly.
"No... I just didn't think you'd serve this to a guest."
"It's not for the guest. Maera helped me prepare it—for you."
After spending some time with Dorian—and from what Maera had told her—Rosalind had come to realize how poor his eating habits were.
He usually ate cold meals with strong liquor—perhaps a routine formed during his long military campaigns with his men.
But perhaps it was also thanks to his northern blood that Dorian had grown into such a resilient man.
"This is good for you. So... drink it," she said firmly, giving him no room to refuse.
He couldn't help but chuckle.
So this... was her way of showing care?
Being cared for doesn't feel so bad after all, he thought to himself.
And so, their dinner passed just like that.
Rosalind suggested that both Dorian and Theodore take the rest of the evening to rest, leaving all matters to be handled the following day.
Seeing how firm she was in her stance, the two men could only nod in agreement.
Night at Everfrost Castle…
When everything had fallen silent, the ancient castle was now left with only flickering embers of fire glowing faintly in the corridors, where no footsteps echoed anymore.
In the largest room of the eastern wing, Dorian had just finished bathing. He wore a loosely draped white shirt and black trousers, his silver hair still damp.
He sank into the leather armchair beside the fireplace, where dry logs crackled softly in the hearth.
His eyes were shut. The past few days had truly worn him out. Though he tried to appear unaffected, the sheer number of things happening had kept his mind constantly occupied.
From handling the Redmark forces to writing the letter to the Queen—about Magnus's appearance.
Everything rushed through his mind. Dorian wanted to make sure he hadn't missed a single detail.
Because from this moment on, one mistake could ruin everything he had worked for.
"This time… there can be no mistakes."
He murmured to himself.
Knock knock knock—his thoughts were cut off by a knock at the door.
Who would be looking for him at this hour?
He rose and walked toward the door, and as it slowly opened, a familiar figure appeared.
"Rosi?"
None other than his beloved wife. His gaze softened. Somehow, she always managed to soothe the storm inside him.
"Well well… look who's come to visit me," he rested an arm against the doorframe, gazing down at her with a touch of mischief.
Rosalind stared at him, momentarily dazed. She had always known his sapphire eyes were striking, but tonight, they no longer seemed cold—instead, they held a brightness, a kind of hope, like a carefree young man, unburdened by the world.
He smelled faintly of fresh sandalwood. His shirt was only half-buttoned, revealing glimpses of his toned chest beneath.
Her cheeks flushed. This was the first time she had seen a man's body from such a close distance.
The Everfrost weather had grown warmer, and Rosalind was draped only in a light, pale silk robe. Her hair, loose and flowing, shimmered softly beneath the moonlight, making her look even more luminous in the stillness of the night.
She still looked so small—as if he could wrap her entirely in his arms, shielding her from all the storms outside.
"May I come in?" she asked softly.
He glanced at her hands and saw the bottle of wine and two cups she was holding. A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"You just banned me from drinking at night," he tilted his chin toward the bottle, "and now you've brought this… are you trying to tempt me?"
She seemed a little flustered, but tried not to back down.
"I… I shouldn't have said that earlier… but one or two drinks before bed is fine… don't you know that?"
"Ah… I see. Thank you, my lady, for enlightening me."
She couldn't help but shoot him a side glance. People said he was cold as stone, but to her, he was more like a mischievous spirit who liked teasing others.
"If the Duke doesn't want to… I'll just go back. Sorry for bothering you."
Just as Rosalind turned to leave, a hand reached out and caught her wrist.
"I'm sorry… It's just joking… would you stay with me?"