"Vines greets the Crown Prince."
The Duke inclined his head in the barest suggestion of a bow, his expression carved from ice.
"Duke!"
The Crown Prince's golden eyes flew wide, practically glowing with undisguised delight.
"I heard you injured your eye and was so worried I couldn't sit still.
I sent letters—so many letters—but there was no answer.
I simply *had* to come in person."
Marin's gaze bounced between the two men, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Your Highness."
The Duke's voice cut through the prince's enthusiasm like a blade through silk.
"There are certain procedures."
"I dropped in without asking."
The prince wilted visibly, his shoulders drawing inward.
"I apologize."
"Ha."
The Duke exhaled through his nose—a sound that might generously be called acknowledgment.
"Let's move."
"The weather is so pleasant!
Surely we could conduct our business here—"
"*Let's.
Move.*"
Each syllable fell like a hammer strike on cold iron.
The prince's smile grew strained, but he rose quickly, schooling his features into something resembling composure.
Marin and Daya scrambled to their feet as well.
The prince turned to them with exacting politeness, his posture so precise he might have been measured with a ruler.
"Once again, I apologize for interrupting your tea party, ladies.
I shall send an apology gift shortly."
"Not required."
The Duke's refusal came before either woman could draw breath to respond.
Marin shot him a look that clearly said, *Is that even allowed?* Then she glanced at the prince, her stomach tightening with apprehension.
But the Crown Prince merely smiled—soft, unbothered, as though he had expected nothing less.
"Then I wish you a pleasant time."
He bowed first, graceful and unhurried.
Marin and Daya quickly returned the gesture.
The Duke was already walking away, his long strides carrying him toward the manor without a backward glance.
"Duke!
Let us walk together!"
The prince hurried after him.
If anything, the Duke's pace *quickened*.
And yet the prince followed, that strange, pleased smile still playing at his lips.
Silence settled over the garden like a held breath.
"...Do you think he heard?"
Marin had been staring blankly at the spot where the two men had disappeared, but Daya's quiet voice pulled her back.
"He shouldn't have..."
Marin's voice wavered slightly.
*Please.
Let them assume this young couple simply fell in love at first sight and leave it at that!*
Daya offered her an encouraging smile.
"It's all right, Teacher Marin.
If those words keep His Highness at a distance from me, then so be it."
The quiet maturity in the girl's voice struck Marin like a small revelation.
She looked at her young charge with newfound admiration.
Marin stopped before the door of the Duke's office.
Olive was handling the reports today, which meant this was her first time coming here alone.
She had just raised her hand to knock when the Duke's voice came from within:
"Come in."
The office was bright with afternoon light.
"What is it?" he asked without preamble.
"Daya and I would like to take a short walk around the capital."
Before the words had fully left her lips, the Duke rose from his chair.
Marin's light green eyes widened.
"Why did you stand up?"
"Are we going?"
"When did I—" She stopped, flustered.
"I said *Daya and I*.
We'll take Elmis as a guard, of course.
The busy street near the imperial palace—it's perfectly safe there."
"Didn't I tell you?"
He moved toward her, each step deliberate.
"Five steps."
He stopped within arm's reach.
Marin squinted, measuring the distance by eye.
"That looks like *one* step."
"That's by my standards."
A faint curve touched his lips.
"By yours, it's five."
"Are you implying that I have short legs?"
"Not just your legs.
Everything's shorter."
He shrugged, as if stating the obvious.
"What's so surprising about that?"
Marin glared at him, indignation flaring—and then she caught the smile spreading across his face.
"Lord Gerald's proportions are all suspiciously long," she muttered, "but I'm perfectly—"
"Exactly this much."
He stepped closer still, leaning down until his breath ghosted warm against her ear.
"Just right."
Heat bloomed across her skin.
Marin clapped a hand over her burning ear, her heart slamming against her ribs so hard it ached.
She focused on exactly how much that distance had shrunk, and gradually, her pulse began to steady.
Decision made, Marin averted her gaze and slid backward.
"What's this?"
One dark eyebrow rose.
"Don't follow."
She held up a warning hand.
"If you follow us—"
"If I do?"
He grinned—a challenge, an invitation.
"We'll only discuss women's secrets."
She lifted her chin.
"Pregnancy.
Childbirth.
*First love.*"
"First love?"
His smile vanished instantly.
"Are you truly interested in your niece's romantic history?"
"For what reason?"
His voice dropped, cautious and low.
"Did *you*... have a first love?"
"If I tell you, will you stay behind?"
"Yes."
His gaze sharpened.
"But no lies.
I'll know."
He tilted his head slightly, listening with an intensity that made the air feel thin.
"I..."
The Duke seemed to hold his breath.
Marin found herself studying his face—the crease forming between his brows, the thick lashes trembling almost imperceptibly with tension, the smooth line of his jaw where a muscle flickered beneath the skin.
For a moment, enchanted, she forgot to speak.
"*I?*" His impatient echo shattered the spell.
"To be honest," she said quickly, "there wasn't any."
There was no reason to lie, so she told the truth.
"Excellent."
Satisfaction softened his features.
"I won't go."
He paused, and his tone shifted—firmer now, threaded with something almost like concern.
"But walk only along crowded streets.
And don't leave Elmis's side."
Marin laughed aloud.
"Yes, yes!"
Her bright footsteps echoed down the corridor even after the door closed behind her.
Inside the office, a smile lingered on Gerald's lips.
## — Strawberries and Strangers —
Marin and Daya settled into a small dessert café tucked away on a side street.
After wandering the bustling avenues of the capital, they had followed Daya's recommendation to this quiet spot.
Only three tables filled the intimate space, and the room stood empty save for them—most customers, it seemed, preferred to take their treats elsewhere.
Soon, the cakes arrived: an assortment of colorful slices arranged on a round pink plate like edible jewels.
"We've collected our most popular selections for you," the server said with a warm smile.
"Please enjoy."
Marin nodded her thanks and examined the nearest piece—a snow-white layered cake crowned with thinly sliced strawberries fanned across the top like the petals of a flower.
She speared a strawberry with her fork and brought it to her lips.
Fresh.
Sweet.
A delicate tartness that lingered on her tongue.
"The strawberries are wonderful."
Daya smiled softly.
"This café uses southern strawberries.
They're the most delicious."
"The south is warm, so all the fruits there must be magnificent."
"Exactly."
A wistful light entered Daya's eyes as she remembered her homeland.
"How did you find this place?"
"Mother used to bring me here."
Daya's gaze drifted around the room, lingering on familiar corners as if leafing through a cherished album of memories.
"Everything is the same as before.
It's... nice."
Her smile deepened.
"And being here with you, Teacher Marin, makes it even better."
"I feel the same!"
Marin answered with deliberate cheer, her heart warming at the girl's affection.
At that moment, the door swung open with a careless bang.
A man strode in, his eyes sweeping the room before locking onto their table.
He moved toward them with the easy confidence of someone who had never once doubted his welcome.
Elmis rose immediately, positioning himself between the stranger and the two women.
"What do you want?"
"Ah, I just wanted to ask something."
The tall man craned his neck, peering around Elmis to get a better look at the ladies.
He was striking—lemon-yellow hair bright against dark skin, his sleeveless shirt and thin trousers absurdly light for winter weather.
He seemed entirely unbothered by the cold.
Marin's instincts prickled.
She buried her attention in her cake, pretending she hadn't noticed him.
"Hey, lady."
The foreigner spread his arms wide, making a show of his presence.
"You do realize there's someone standing here, yes?"
Marin looked up with a carefully neutral expression.
"What do you want?"
"That carriage at the entrance."
His dark eyes sparkled with childlike wonder.
"It's really made of diamonds, isn't it?"
"Yes."
Her response was flat, unenthusiastic.
Riding in the diamond carriage always attracted attention; she had grown accustomed to the stares.
"I like it."
He leaned forward eagerly.
"Will you sell it?"
Marin frowned, studying him as though he had sprouted a second head.
No pleasantries, no preamble—just *sell me your carriage*.
"No."
"Why not?
I'll pay you.
A *lot*."
His shoulders slumped dramatically, and he adopted the expression of a kicked puppy.
"It's not about money."
Marin's tone remained firm.
"It was a gift.
I can't sell it."
"A gift?"
His eyes widened with sudden self-reproach.
"To think someone would give something like that...
Why didn't *I* ever think of it?"
Despite Elmis standing squarely between them, the man continued chattering as though they were old friends, cycling through disappointment and enthusiasm with dizzying speed.
"Well, these things happen!
That's why you must travel more, see more of the world."
He nodded sagely to himself—then his expression shifted, his dark eyes narrowing with a warmth that was almost feline.
A slow, charming smile curved his lips.
"By the way... you're quite cute.
Will you go out with me?"