The Next Day
The brooch that had been found was now presented before the rest of the family. Aria had spent all night thinking about it, and now she stood before them, her conclusion clear.
"I think the knight is somehow related to our bloodline," she said, voice steady.
No one responded at first. It was clear—they already knew.
"He's the reason the Northern Duchy even exists," Theodore finally said, his tone grim.
"When the knight died protecting the Saintess, his family fled from the Holy Land. His son became the first Duke of the North. The silver aura didn't manifest again… until Selene was born. And he made sure that the North would never belong to the church or the royal family."
"So the shadow sees Mother as a threat," Aria continued, piecing it together aloud, "because she carries the silver aura—and she's a descendant of the knight's bloodline."
"Yes. That's the only explanation we've found," Liam said.
"But… if that's the case, why didn't it attack Mother earlier? Why now?" Aria asked, narrowing her eyes.
The silence in the room was telling. Everyone knew—but no one wanted to say it.
"We also need to understand why it's haunting Lioan," Abigel said quietly.
"Shouldn't we just ask them?" Aria suggested.
"No," Selene answered sharply. "They clearly know something but aren't telling us. That means… they want something from us."
"Then we figure it out ourselves," Caisson concluded, his voice cold with determination.
As the meeting ended, tension lingered like storm clouds. Everyone scattered—each with new weight to carry.
Later, at the Training Grounds
Abigel found Aria exactly where he expected: on the training grounds. Sword in hand, eyes distant. She was trying to shake off the heaviness in her heart with motion.
He watched her for a moment, then stepped forward.
"You're worrying too much," he said.
She turned to him, brows raised. "How do you know?"
"You've been sighing for the past ten minutes," he replied with a soft smile.
Before she could respond, he reached into his pocket and handed her something small. "Here."
Aria looked down at the object in her palm. A bracelet—simple, yet beautiful. The black beads shimmered faintly under the light.
"It's pretty," she said, studying it.
He didn't explain what it truly was. That he had infused his aura into it. That if she ever strayed too far or was in danger, he would know. He simply smiled and said nothing.
"You're not going to say anything dramatic, like 'It'll protect you in my place'?" she teased, a brow arched.
He shrugged, folding his arms. "Would you even listen if I did?"
Aria smiled, slipping the bracelet onto her wrist. "Maybe."
It was Sir Issac and Aria's duty to patrol the northern border that day. Ever since the recent attack, security around the area had been tightened. Citizens needed to feel safe again—and it was their job to make sure of it.
But the silence between Issac and Aria was... tense.
After all, he had pushed her in front of a monster. Even if it was by the Duke's order, trust didn't return so easily.
"Ahm..." Issac cleared his throat, clearly working up the courage to speak.
Aria turned her head slightly, raising an eyebrow at him.
"I… I was only following orders that day," Issac finally said, his voice hesitant.
She said nothing at first, and the weight of her silence pressed on him.
"Father's been scolding me ever since," he added quickly. "I know I should've handled it differently. I... I apologize."
Aria looked ahead for a few more seconds, then let out a soft sigh. "Hmm... it's alright."
Issac blinked. "Really?"
"You must be really scared of your father," she said, not unkindly.
Issac huffed. "Who wouldn't be? Just because he retired from the battlefield doesn't mean he's done. He watches me like a hawk. Nagging every day."
Aria allowed a small smile. "Sounds like a rough childhood."
"It was," Issac admitted with a chuckle. "But I always looked up to him. He's always been at the duke's side. They're... inseparable."
"Oh?" Aria frowned slightly. "That's strange. I don't think I've ever seen him. I always see Sir Alwin with Uncle."
Issac paused at that. He looked... uncomfortable.
Aria glanced back at him again, narrowing her eyes. His features—the sharp jaw, the way his eyes glinted when he smiled—it was subtle, but now that she was thinking about it...
He looked a lot like Sir Alwin.
Too much.
The realization hit her like a whisper in the wind, quiet but undeniable
After that, Aria didn't ask any more questions.
When she returned to the duchy, Abigel was already waiting by the front steps.
"You know what happened?" Aria asked as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him into the guest room.
"I was so stupid," she muttered as soon as the door shut. "I didn't even realize Sir Issac was Sir Alwin's son."
Abigel let out a low chuckle. "It's not your fault. You didn't grow up in the North, and they don't exactly look the same."
"But still," Aria sighed, frowning. "How could I not realize until now?"
"You don't need to be embarrassed," Abigel said gently, sensing the whirlwind of thoughts spinning through her head.
She let out a deep breath. That's when she realized—she had been holding his hand the entire time.
Her fingers slipped away slowly, and as she looked up, she found Abigel closer than before.
Too close.
She took a small step back, heart suddenly aware of how quiet the room had become.
"I... I should clean up," she mumbled. "I stink from patrol."
Abigel didn't move. "I don't mind."
His voice was low, rougher than usual, like it scraped past something unspoken.
Her pulse quickened.
He took a step closer, and she didn't retreat this time. The air between them thickened. His eyes flicked to her lips, then her eyes—pausing, waiting, asking.
"Abigel..." she whispered, unsure of what she meant to say.
"You're always running," he said softly. "But I see you."
Then slowly—so slowly—he leaned in. She had every chance to stop him. But she didn't.
Their lips met, not rushed, not wild—but warm and trembling, like two people touching the edge of something forbidden.
And when his hand cupped her cheek, she let herself fall into it.
For a moment he pulled back.
Then he looked at her again—at her flushed skin, the way her chest rose with every breath, the small bead of sweat rolling down her neck.
And when she bit her lower lip, trying to steady herself—
That was it.
Abigel moved in fast, pushing her down onto the nearby sofa as he claimed her lips in a deep, desperate kiss. His mouth moved against hers, devouring her lower lip before slipping his tongue between hers. Aria moaned softly into the kiss, her body arching toward his on instinct.
His hand found her wrists and pinned them above her head gently but firmly, grounding her as if she might disappear. To him, this moment was everything—a taste of water after a lifetime in the desert.
When he finally pulled back, breathless, he stared down at her.
The woman he craved more than anything.