Derick had barely slept.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her face—the smile she gave him in the garden, the way her voice made the weight in his chest feel lighter.
It terrified him.
He couldn't afford to be soft. Not now. Not when the people who destroyed her were still smiling and breathing.
He stood at the balcony of his guest chamber, watching the fog roll over the estate gardens. The early morning sun barely lit the courtyard. His father had already left for negotiations, meaning Derick had the day to himself.
A knock came.
Derick opened the door to find a maid standing there, eyes low.
"Miss Liora Calderon requests your presence in the east greenhouse," she said softly.
His heart jumped.No. Don't react. Stay cold.
"Tell her I'm unavailable," he said after a pause.
The maid hesitated. "She said you might say that… and to tell you she'd wait."
He closed the door and leaned back against it, covering his face.
She was chasing him now.
The east greenhouse was a warm, glass sanctuary blooming with soft green vines, orchids, and sunlight. The scent of honeysuckle hung in the air.
And in the middle of it all sat Liora.
Sketchbook in her lap. Waiting.
She looked up as Derick entered.
"I thought you weren't coming," she said, smiling.
He didn't smile back.
"I shouldn't have."
She tilted her head, unfazed. "You keep saying things like that, and yet you always show up."
"Habit," he muttered, turning to look at a hanging ivy plant.
She stood. "Why do you act like this around me?"
He didn't answer.
"I saw your face yesterday," she continued gently. "When we met. You looked like… like you were about to cry. And then you disappeared."
He turned to her sharply. "You're imagining things."
"Am I?" she asked softly.
Silence.
Then she walked closer.
"Do I scare you?"
That made him snort. "You're barely five feet tall."
She punched his shoulder lightly. "I'm five-foot-three, thank you."
A smile threatened to break across his face, but he caught it just in time.
"I don't get you, Derick," she said, stepping back with a pout. "One moment you're kind, the next you act like you barely tolerate me."
"Maybe that's the truth," he said coldly.
She looked away, hurt flashing across her face.
It tore at him.
But it was better this way. The closer she got, the more vulnerable he became. If he let himself care—really care—his heart might forget the mission.
And if he faltered… she would die again.
He couldn't let that happen.
Elsewhere, behind a grand curtain and marble wall…
Seraphina Calderon sipped her tea, her gaze cold and calculating.
She had watched from the upper balcony as Derick entered the greenhouse.
"Interesting," she murmured.
Vance sat across from her, polishing a blade.
"Jealous?" he asked lazily.
She rolled her eyes. "Hardly. But that boy's hiding something."
He chuckled. "All boys hide things."
"No, Vance. He looks at her like he's seen a ghost."
She stood, walking to the window, eyes narrowing.
"He has a secret. One I intend to drag out."
Back in the greenhouse…
Derick stood by the fountain, feeling her presence beside him like the sun warming cold stone.
"You know," she said, "I've been having strange dreams lately."
He stiffened.
She didn't notice.
"They feel like… memories. But not mine. Like I'm someone else."
Derick's throat tightened.
"What do you see?" he asked carefully.
"Blood. Tears. A boy with dark blue eyes—eyes like yours," she said, smiling softly.
His heart thundered.
She went on. "He was always there. Until he wasn't. And when he left, the world went dark."
He turned to her, jaw clenched. "That's just a dream, Liora."
She looked at him. "Maybe. But it feels real."
Then, without warning, her stomach growled loudly.
Derick blinked.
Liora turned red.
"Okay. That was not dramatic," she muttered, covering her face.
Derick chuckled—actually chuckled—and Liora peeked through her fingers.
"You laughed," she said. "It suits you."
"I don't laugh," he grunted, immediately straightening his face.
"You totally laughed."
"I didn't."
"You did."
"I did not."
"Did too."
He sighed in defeat. "You're insufferable."
"And you like it," she said, sticking out her tongue.
He didn't reply.
Because she wasn't wrong.
That night, Derick wrote in his journal again.
The name Liora sat at the center of the page.
He tapped the pen against the paper, torn.
"She's remembering," he whispered. "But she doesn't know yet."
He looked out the window at the silver moon and the distant spires of the Calderon estate.
One mistake, and they'll take her from me again.
But gods…When she looked at him like that…
He closed the book and pressed it against his chest.
No more mistakes.