"Those who were destined to die had no right to interfere with the affairs of those fated to live."
A girl cursed to be reborn strikes an unlikely deal with the ambitious heir of Valorieve in order to fulfill her only wish. However, this strictly-b...
Minho could not pinpoint a specific moment in the past ten months. When did his suspicion turn into curiosity, and then concern?
When did all that become something more?
He did not think too much of it on the night he accepted your proposal, swathed in black and intent on killing. This deal was simply a more favorable arrangement. It furthered both his family's political goals and his own, without bloodshed. In fact, this marriage had tied the neutral fief of Lurmuse to Valorieve's faction by relation, thus securing their vast influence.
Your motives had been unclear at first, but he eventually gleaned a truth about the matter. The Crown Prince was a dangerous man, and you were trying to escape him. The journey to reaching that conclusion was arduous and confusing, and he still had many questions about it, but he was content with the assurance he had obtained.
Perhaps the source of it all was the air of mystery that you seemed to wear around you like a magnificent cape. What began as a means of investigating you soon morphed into genuine curiosity. Minho found himself wanting to know what you were so desperately trying to hide beneath that mysterious cape. He wanted to learn what it was that made you smile and frown, prod your precious mind to know what thoughts lived there.
In a way, you were like a breath of fresh air. Someone so different, so unexpected. You were blunt, yet polite. Forthcoming, yet reserved. Aloof, yet so kind and considerate to everyone around you. A peculiar combination, but then again, no one person's character was ever so simple.
Sometimes, he felt as though the words that left your lips were born of the wisdom of countless years. You never said more than was necessary, each word a delicate and careful choice. Each utterance exactly what needed to be heard.
It was a pleasant change.
At first, it was protectiveness that he felt toward you, one that was the sole product of his pride. You had become one of his people, an attack on you was an attack on him. He could not let any soul on this earth disrespect him as such.
But that changed when he came to acknowledge the person you were as more than a business partner. Ever since he made that promise after the festival and confronted his conflicting emotions, he began to cherish you as an equal and a trustworthy aide.
Long had Minho felt alone in the world. His burdens as the heir of Valorieve were many, and he shouldered them with nary a complaint. This was the life he was born for, after all. But sometimes, he found himself a lone warrior in a deserted field, and that deeper solitude wore him out. His brothers were born for different roles, and he was sure that the people who would enter his life would be like that too.
To those who did not fear him, he would remain an untouchable image of nobility. A shallow imitation of the intricate person he truly was.
But then you slipped into his life like a spontaneous wind, upturning a few leaves and settling in nicely. You did not cower before his blade, nor swoon at his words. It was that same stone-carved picture of nobility—like a reflection of himself.
You seemed to think like he did. You seemed to truly acknowledge him. You did not turn a blind eye to the cold and cruel, and likewise, you did not glorify his noble side. Around you, Minho had grown comfortable to be himself, speak his mind, and know that you would not misperceive him. Know that he did not have to don a façade.
So abruptly, he found himself a lone warrior no longer.
These precious feelings became something he never wanted to lose, locked in his heart, hidden away from an unfriendly world. Feelings he wished to whisper to you one day like a secret shared only between the two of you.
Minho's eyes spotted you easily from where he now stood conversing with a small group of viscounts. There was a smile on your lips, small, but it was one he had learned was genuine, while listening to what Lady Gaele was saying. He wished to join you, hear what it was that amused you so, but he could already hear your chastising in his head. That would be improper. Many guests here are clambering to speak to you as is.
He willed his eyes to return to the men prattling around him, wearing his polite smile with such fluid ease.
It was all right. There was no need for haste.
He had the entirety of his lifetime to make you return his gaze.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
