Feeling a cold sensation in his skin, Lucian snapped back to reality. His blurry vision cleared, noticing the plates placed on the dining table in front of him.
Although he knew what he saw earlier was merely a glimpse of his past, he looked around, disoriented. He felt the need to verify whether it was a mere dream. Once confirmed he wasn’t in the king’s palace, a question rose in his mind. How did he end up here? He vaguely recalled a maid calling for dinner and he had followed her without saying anything but the memory was still hazy.
"I-I apologize," the maid, who had brushed the cold ustensile against his skin, bowed, continuing her task. The grand duke wasn’t the kind of person who would mind such a behaviour however, the grand duchess was strict when it came to the maids behaviour. Although she was gentle and polite, she also had a domineering cold attitude, a constant contrast to her kind demeanor.
Cynthia sat across Lucian, shaking her head in disbelief. The man sitting before her hasn’t spoken a word for the past half an hour he was here. It wasn’t like him. He would at least say something about her posture or even about her preferences for the food she ate, telling her that Erion prioritized vegetables over meat.
She knew why. The answer couldn’t be anything else but the demons. Even if they preyed on humans, animals were not spared either. Having a lot of demons, specifically in Erion, the amount of animals had decreased significantly on their land, although the rest of Selvarys was still safe from such misery for now.
Inhaling deeply, Cynthia took a bite of meat in her mouth.
Did the princess’s death affect him like this in the past as well?
She pondered, forcing the memories of her past life in order to remember something but in vain. She couldn’t remember what happened after they arrived at the mansion from the funeral.
However, in this life, he had locked himself in his bedchambers. She sent countless maids to call him for dinner, not daring to go personnally.
"Seeing me now could make things worse for him," she told herself.
Even after sending numerous maids, he refused constantly. It was only until half an hour ago that he agreed to come and have a meal. Even so, he kept blankly staring at his plate. It seemed he did not even notice her presence— as if she were a mere ghost.
"Your Highness," Cynthia spoke in a relatively loud voice, making sure he would hear her.
Lucian looked her way for a moment only to glance back at his food.
"Would you at least listen to me?" She asked. Her voice lingered with a hint of anger, clearly annoyed.
"What is it? I never said I wouldn’t listen."
"What is wrong? You seem to be lost in thoughts. Is it because of Princess Arisia’s?..." she paused, unable to finish her sentence.
Despite keeping as much distance as possible with the princess, Cynthia found herself missing her. She couldn’t imagine what Lucian must be going through— but she didn’t want to think about it much either. It could result in her resolve for revenge to falter.
Lucian clenched his jaw at the mention of his sister. Was she... trying to cut open the wounds that didn’t even heal? Was she purposely making him feel horrible by mentioning his sister’s death... or she was simply clueless of how much it would hurt him?
Clouded by questions, Lucian didn’t reply.
Hearing no response from the young man, Cynthia parted her lips which slowly curled slightly.
"I craved words to fill the void in my heart, to mend the scars on my soul. But you merely wished for silence, calling miscommunication peace, under the illusion of solace, whereas I craved an explanation. Perhaps your silence was your shield, too thick for my words to pass through, to be heard. When I questioned you, your eyes would turn away, burying the answers I sought."
Lucian flinched upon hearing Cynthia’s words. It was obvious it was a poem; however, he could wrap his mind around how she knew how to come up with one. Creating such literary work was gifted to a few priest, whom he occasionally met during his stay at the royal palace.
"How?" A soft whisper escaped him.
"Where did you hear this?" He asked. He didn’t know why he thought she was one who made this, when she could have merely learned it from a priest.
But Eldoria isn’t know to possess poets.
He thought, trying to recall if he could have overlooked a detail during his investigation before engaging himself in this marriage.
"From someone. But she is long dead," she said, rising from her seat. "I believe we are done with our promised dinner. I shall take my leave."
***
Stomping his feet on the ground filled with dead leaves, Lucian walked through the garden, no sound following his footsteps. The smell of rain still lingered in the air despite the clear sky.
The garden was similar yet different from Princess Arisia’s garden— the place where they had met for the first time.
Back then, when the king had ordered the guards to take him away, he was locked into a room for a few days. Despite the cries of his younger self, no one came to his aid.
Until he was released one day, for a reason he ignored.
He was allowed to go outside of his room, eat as he please, but the food served to him was no better than the one he used to have.
"He thinks he is some prince just because the king brought him here, or what?! Eating as he pleases without even earning it!"
The servants often whispered among themselves.
Whenever he wished to escape from their harsh words, he would sneak out and visit the garden.
And one day, he met a small girl there.
"What are you doing here?" A small voice asked, her big emerald eyes looking at him, shocked.
"Who are you? What are you doing here?.." Lucian asked.