70 - Unyielding
The silence in the living room stretched just a little too long. Mariana stood there, staring at the dress as if it might suddenly explain itself.It didn’t. It simply existed—beautiful, intricate, perfect. Too perfect.
“This... is creepy..." She muttered under her breath. Because there was only one thought echoing in her mind.
It fits me...
Not “it might fit.” Not “it looks adjustable.” No. It would fit. Exactly. Her shoulders. Her waist. Her height. Every detail.
A chill crept up her spine. “… how does he even know my size…?” She whispered.
No one answered. Because no one could answer that in a way that would make her feel better.
From the side, Grand Prince Aguerico clicked his tongue. “That bastard…” He muttered under his breath, clearly irritated.
“Language.” Grand Duchess Darelene said calmly.
“He sent a dress before the banquet even started,” Aguerico shot back. “That’s not normal.”
“No,” Darelene agreed. “… it isn’t.”
Mariana swallowed slightly. Even her mother isn’t defending him this time. That somehow made it worse.
Before she could spiral further, a firm voice cut through the room.
“We are leaving soon.” Grand Duke Maximus.
Everyone’s attention shifted immediately.
He stood near the doorway, arms crossed, expression composed—but his presence alone was enough to command absolute attention.
“The banquet will not wait for us.” He continued.
Darelene nodded. “The preparations are already complete.”
“Good.” His gaze shifted to his sons. “Eirwen.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Aguerico.”
“… yes.”
“Alistair.”
A quieter voice responded, “Yes, Father.”
Mariana blinked slightly.
Oh… right. The youngest son of the Vernon family...
Grand Prince Alistair had been silent so far, standing near the side like a shadow—observing more than speaking.
Maximus’ voice lowered slightly, but the weight behind it only increased. “You will remain at Mariana’s side at all times.”
Silence.
Eirwen nodded immediately. “Understood.”
Aguerico scoffed lightly but didn’t argue. “… fine.”
Alistair simply inclined his head. “As you wish.”
Mariana blinked. “A-All three of you?” She asked.
“Yes.” Maximus answered without hesitation.
“That’s overkill…!” She protested weakly.
“It is necessary.”
“I feel like a criminal under surveillance…”
“You are a prey... for that fucking wolf.” He corrected calmly, whispering the last part inaudibly.
Mariana deflated slightly.
Not him too…
From the side, Darelene sighed softly, shaking her head. “Honestly,” she murmured, “she’s going to suffocate at this rate.”
Maximus didn’t respond. Because in his mind, this wasn’t negotiable.
Mariana pressed her lips together.
This is getting more and more intense… before, that damned guy's tracker necklace… and now this??
She glanced at the dress again. “I-I don’t like this at all...” She muttered.
“Then don’t think about it,” Darelene said gently, stepping closer and nudging her lightly. “We’re leaving.”
Mariana barely had time to react before she was ushered along. “Wait, wait, I’m not mentally prepared...!”
“You don’t need to be.”
“That’s not reassuring!”
---
The carriages were already waiting outside. Two of them. One for the Grand Ducal couple and Mariana. The other for the three Grand Princes.
The night air was cool, calm—but the tension lingered.
Mariana stepped into the carriage, smoothing her dress unconsciously. Even as she sat down, her thoughts kept circling back. The necklace. The dress. Zafiel.
“This is... too much...” She whispered to herself.
Across from her, Darelene watched quietly. “Stay composed tonight.” She said softly.
“I’ll try…”
“That’s all I ask.”
---
The imperial palace at night was… breathtaking. Lights illuminated every structure, every pathway, every fountain.
It looked less like a place where people lived and more like something out of a dream. Or a stage. And tonight, everyone was expected to perform. The carriages came to a stop. Doors opened. And one by one, they stepped out.
Servants bowed. Knights stood at attention. Everything was precise. Controlled. Then, they walked toward the banquet hall. Massive. Towering.
Grand twin doors stood at the entrance, guarded by imperial knights.
One stepped forward. His voice rang out clearly.
“Announcing the arrival of the Grand Ducal Family of Forebros—Grand Duke Maximus, Grand Duchess Darelene, Grand Princess Mariana, and the Grand Princes Eirwen, Aguerico and Alistair!”
The doors opened. Slowly. Heavily. And the moment Mariana stepped inside, her breath caught. “… whoa…”
The hall was enormous. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead like captured stars. Long tables overflowed with exquisite food—dishes she didn’t even recognize.
Nobles filled the space, dressed in their finest—silks, jewels, intricate designs. Everything shimmered. Everything watched. Because the moment they entered, attention shifted. Whispers followed.
“… that’s her…”
“The Grand Princess…”
“The Crown Prince’s fiancée…”
“The Saintess candidate…”
Mariana stiffened.
Oh no... Oh no no no...!
The whispers grew. Eyes lingered. Judgment. Curiosity. Speculation. She wanted to disappear immediately.
“I want to leave…” She muttered under her breath.
“You just arrived..." Aguerico replied dryly from beside her.
“Tha-That doesn’t mean I want to stay…”
Eirwen leaned slightly closer. “Ignore them.”
“… I’m trying…” But it wasn’t easy. Because the attention wasn’t just from nobles. Her gaze shifted and froze. “… wait…”
Near the far side of the hall, figures stood out. Not nobles. Not knights. Priests. High-ranking ones.
“The Temple…” she whispered.
And beside them, two very familiar figures. One with tattoos faintly visible along his neck. Relaxed. Observant. The other—young. Too young. But his eyes were sharp. Focused.
“Dion… and Kael…?” Mariana murmured. Two Archmages. Here. At the banquet. “… are you serious…?” She whispered. Her headache doubled instantly.
This isn’t a banquet. This is a battlefield…
And then, “Mariana!” A voice called out. Loud. Bright. Completely ignoring the atmosphere.
Mariana froze. “… no…” Slowly, she turned.
And there he was. Kael. Waving. Enthusiastically. Like they were in a casual setting and not a politically charged imperial banquet.
“… he did not just do that…” she whispered.
He did. And of course, the whispers intensified.
“Archmage Kael?”
“He knows her?”
“They’re close?”
Mariana felt her soul leave her body.
I’m going to disappear... I’m actually going to disappear...
“Pretend you don’t know him.” Aguerico muttered.
“I wish I didn’t…”
Before she could even attempt damage control, a new presence approached. Calm. Composed. Commanding.
Mariana turned slightly. And saw him. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Deep red hair, neatly combed. Gray eyes, sharp yet had warmth. His attire was immaculate—refined, elegant, unmistakably high-ranking.
He stopped before them. And bowed. “Grand Duke. Grand Duchess.” His voice was smooth. Measured. Then his gaze shifted. To her. “And Grand Princess Mariana.”
Mariana blinked. “Ye-Yes?”
He straightened, offering a polite smile. “Allow me to introduce myself,” he said. “I am Keiran Darcel Bellinor.” A pause. “Grand Chancellor of Clematis.”
Mariana’s eyes widened slightly.
Wait... Keiran Darcel Bellinor…? That name...!
Recognition struck.
Oh... oh no. The male lead's friend...! One of the key figures in the novel...! Alongside Sir Leonhard.
And now, he was here. In front of her.
“And…” Keiran continued, his gaze holding a quiet interest, “… I have been meaning to meet you.”
Mariana felt something tighten in her chest. “M-Me...?” She asked.
“Yes.”
His smile deepened slightly. “I find you… quite intriguing.”
Somewhere across the hall, a pair of amethyst eyes watched. Unmoving. Unblinking. Crown Prince Zafiel stood among a group of nobles, a viscount speaking endlessly about a newly discovered copper mine.
“… and the yield is expected to increase—”
Zafiel didn’t hear a word. Because his gaze was fixed. On her. On the man standing in front of her. On the way Keiran spoke. On the way Mariana looked at him. Something cold settled in his chest. Sharp. Quiet. Dangerous.
His fingers tapped lightly against his glass. Once. Twice. Three times.
“Your Imperial Highness...?” The viscount asked hesitantly.
Zafiel didn’t respond immediately. Because in that moment, only one thought existed in his mind. He would not yield. Not to anyone. Not to nobles. Not to the Temple. Not even to his friend.
His gaze darkened slightly. “Continue.” He said calmly. But his eyes never left her.
And somewhere deep beneath that calm, something possessive tightened its hold. Mariana was his. And he had no intention of letting anyone forget it.