After several long, agonizing moments, Violetta finally composed herself, wiping away the last of her tears with a shaky hand. As she did, she remembered the weight of Cassian's coat still draped around her shoulders, a hateful reminder of the man who had just shattered her heart once more. With a sharp, angry motion, Violetta yanked the coat from her shoulders and balled it up in her hands. She stalked over to the balcony railing and, with a cry of disgust, hurled the coat out into the night, watching as it tumbled down, down, down until it disappeared into the darkness below.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, squaring her shoulders as she prepared to face the world once more. With a final, lingering glance at the spot where Cassian had disappeared into the night, Violetta turned on her heel and strode out of the ballroom, her head held high, her eyes blazing with a newfound determination. She needed to get away, to put as much distance between herself and Cassian as possible.
As she walked, Violetta found herself drawn towards the palace gardens, a place of tranquility and beauty amidst the chaos of the ball. The night air was cool and crisp, a refreshing change from the stuffy warmth of the ballroom. Violetta walked slowly, her mind a whirlwind of painful memories and bitter regrets.
As she wandered deeper into the gardens, the scent of roses and honeysuckle filling her nostrils, Violetta spotted a figure standing alone in the moonlight. She paused, her heart skipping a beat as she took in the stranger's appearance. The man had tousled dark brown hair that reached just above his shoulders, often falling into his intense gray eyes in a way that spoke of a careless, carefree nature. Yet, there was a hint of something more in those eyes, a bitterness and vulnerability that caught Violetta off guard.
Violetta's gaze drifted over the man's chiseled jawline and straight, aquiline nose, a face that spoke of a rugged, almost wild handsomeness. She noted the sun-kissed skin, a testament to a life lived in the outdoors, and the broad, muscular shoulders that spoke of a strength and power that lay beneath the surface. Violetta felt a smirk tug at the corner of her lips as a sudden, reckless thought crossed her mind.
Her smirk widened into a mischievous grin as she drank in the stranger's rugged good looks, a sudden, reckless idea taking shape in her mind. "He would make the perfect husband," she murmured to herself, a hint of dark amusement in her voice. "A handsome face, a strong body, and no doubt a fierce, passionate nature hidden beneath that stoic exterior." Violetta's voice was a low, thoughtful whisper, a sound that carried on the cool night air.
Just as the words left her lips, Violetta froze, her heart leaping into her throat as she realized the man had turned towards her, his intense gray eyes locking with hers. Violetta couldn't believe her daring words had reached his ears, a blush of embarrassment and a touch of excitement coloring her cheeks. Acting on instinct, she quickly ducked behind a nearby statue, pressing her back against the cold marble as she tried to make herself as small and unassuming as possible.
Violetta's heart raced as she crouched there, hardly daring to breathe as she listened for any sign of the man's approach. The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity as Violetta waited, her mind awhirl with a mix of anxiety and a strange, anticipatory excitement.
After a long, agonizing moment, Violetta peeked around the edge of the statue, her eyes scanning the moonlit garden for any sign of the stranger. To her surprise and a touch of disappointment, she found no one standing there. The path was empty, the man having vanished into the shadows as suddenly as he had appeared. Violetta's brow furrowed, a look of confusion and a hint of curiosity in her eyes as she wondered where the man could have gone. Had he heard her reckless words and been offended by her boldness? Or had he simply been taking a leisurely stroll through the gardens, as lost in thought as she herself had been?
"Where did he go?" Violetta murmured to herself, a note of frustration in her voice. She scanned the garden once more, searching for any sign of the man, but to no avail. With a sigh of annoyance, she stood up slowly, brushing off her gown as she stepped out from behind the statue.
As Violetta straightened up, a sudden, sharp gasp escaped her lips as she felt the unmistakable press of a knife against the delicate skin of her throat. At the same time, a strong hand wrapped around her wrists, locking them tightly together behind her back. Violetta's heart leapt into her mouth as she felt the firm, unyielding wall of a man's chest press against her back, pinning her in place. A shudder ran through her body, a mix of fear and a strange, inexplicable thrill at being so suddenly and completely at the mercy of a stranger.
"Who are you?" the man demanded, his voice a low, dangerous growl that sent a chill down Violetta's spine. "And why were you following me around in the gardens?" His breath was hot against her ear, the words a low, menacing rasp that made Violetta's skin prickle with goosebumps.
Violetta's mind raced, her thoughts a tangled mess of confusion and a growing sense of unease. She tried to turn her head to look at her captor, but the knife pressed more firmly against her throat, a silent warning not to move. "I wasn't following you," Violetta said quickly, her voice a breathless whisper. "I am a guest of His Majesty, for God's sake let go of me."
The man was silent for a long moment, the only sound the distant strains of music from the ballroom and the pounding of Violetta's own heart in her ears. "A likely story," he scoffed, a note of bitter skepticism in his tone. "However, a guest of the king would be inside the ballroom, not skulking about in the gardens in the dead of night."
Violetta's eyes flashed with indignation, a spark of anger cutting through the fear that gripped her. "If you don't believe me, then take a look at my face," she challenged, tilting her chin up in a defiant gesture. "I am Duchess Violetta Velyssia, and I assure you, if you do anything more than you already have, you won't be leaving this palace alive."
The man's grip on Violetta's wrists tightened for a moment before he roughly spun her around to face him. Violetta let out a soft gasp, her silver-blonde hair whipping around her shoulders as she found herself staring up into a pair of intense, stormy gray eyes. Those eyes narrowed as they raked over her face, taking in the delicate, fair features, the violet eyes that sparkled with a mix of fear and indignation, the soft, full lips that were parted in surprise. After a long, tense moment, the man's expression shifted, a look of reluctant acceptance crossing his chiseled features.
"Yes, you are telling the truth," he said at last, his voice a low, gruff murmur. "You are indeed the Duchess of Velyssia." With that admission, the man released Violetta's wrists, his hands falling away from her person. Violetta stumbled forward slightly, rubbing at her wrists as she glared up at her assailant.
"Do you mean to tell me you won't even offer an apology after assaulting a lady in such a manner?" Violetta demanded, her voice a mix of frustration and a grudging admiration for the man's boldness. "You grabbed me, threatened me with a knife, and held me against my will. And yet, you have the audacity to stand there and not even apologize?" Violetta's voice was a low, incredulous hiss, a sound that spoke of her growing exasperation.
The man's lips twitched, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He tilted his head to the side, a look of arrogant indifference in his eyes as he met Violetta's furious gaze. "Why should I apologize?" he countered, his voice a low, unrepentant drawl. "I acted in self-defense, thinking that someone was spying on me. I had no way of knowing you were who you claimed to be." The man's voice was a low, unapologetic rasp, a sound that sent a shiver down Violetta's spine despite herself.
Violetta's frustration battled with a growing sense of awe at the man's brazen audacity. She had never met anyone quite like him before, someone who could manhandle a Duchess and yet remain so unapologetically indifferent to her outrage. Violetta found herself drawn to that boldness, that reckless disregard for protocol and decorum.
Unable to resist the urge to know him better, Violetta took a step closer to Lucien, closing the distance between their bodies until she could feel the heat radiating off his skin. She tilted her head back, her silver-blonde hair cascading down her back as she met his stormy gaze with a defiant one of her own. "So, what is your name?" Violetta asked, a hint of challenge in her voice.
Lucien's eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise and a touch of wariness in their depths. "Lucien," he said at last, his voice a low, guarded murmur. "Lucien D'Artois."
Violetta repeated his name, a slow, thoughtful smile curving her lips. "Lucien D'Artois," she echoed, a note of recognition in her tone. "I remember hearing whispers of the fallen D'Artois Viscounty. I had no idea any of you remained." Violetta's voice was a low, musing whisper, a sound that spoke of a curiosity and an interest that went beyond mere idle gossip.
Lucien's eyes widened, a look of shock and a hint of anger flashing across his chiseled features. "I am surprised a Duchess such as yourself would concern herself with the fate of a fallen family like mine," he said, a note of bitter skepticism in his tone. "What could a man like me, who has now been reduced to being a commoner, possibly offer to a woman of your stature?" Lucien's voice was a low, mocking rasp, a sound that spoke of a deep-seated resentment and a cynicism born of hardship and loss.
Violetta closed the remaining distance between them until her gown brushed against Lucien's boots. She tilted her chin up, her violet eyes sparkling with a newfound interest and a hint of mischief as she gazed into Lucien's stormy gray ones. A coy smile played across her full lips as she spoke, her voice a low, enticing murmur. "I must confess, I have taken quite a liking to you, Lucien D'Artois. There is a...certain charm about you, a ruggedness and a raw, untamed spirit that I find rather captivating. I have a proposition for you, perhaps we could engage in a little chat, somewhere more..." She paused, her gaze flicking meaningfully to the darkened gardens before settling back on Lucien. "...private. Like the Velyssia Castle, for instance." Violetta's voice was a low, tempting purr, a sound that promised secrets shared and perhaps, something more.
Lucien stared down at her, a look of stunned disbelief etched across his rugged features. He repeated her words slowly, as if tasting them on his tongue. "A proposition?" He murmured, a hint of skepticism and a touch of wary fascination in his tone. "Between a fallen noble like myself and a Duchess such as yourself? I must admit, I find it hard to believe." Lucien's voice was a low, gruff rasp, a sound that spoke of a deep, abiding cynicism. And yet, despite his doubts, Lucien couldn't ignore the spark of intrigue that Violetta's words had ignited within him.