club icarus

                                  <—{☆}—>                      

"Did I not give you a job to do, Iglesias? You don't mean to tell me you too have grown incompetent!" a thunderous tear tore through the throne room. Eyes as hot as liquid gold poured over the Duke's back — scalding, punishing and unforgiving in nature. Steeled aurum pierced through him, shattering the facade of confidence beheld in the ruby hue of his iris.

Save for the king's tantrum, the hall was quiet. Not a single angel dared to gaze upon the sight. Nobody dared to incur the evergrowing wrath of their ruler. As vicious as he'd become, few men blamed him for his sudden outburst.

The pressure from the Nether Realm was beginning to claw into King Angelos. And what a frightening sight it turned him into.

Iglesias was dismissed, essentially evicted from the room with yet another loud bark. The man would've taken this as an opportunity to return to his chamber, but he was stopped by an elegant woman, draped in flowing, regal attire, basking the hall with her soft, golden light. Her expression was kind, just as any queen should have.

Iglesias knew better. Every person with the Angelos name had their own secrets— their own role to fulfill in this twisted play directed by God himself. And perhaps, with the rising moon as their sole witness, he'd learn exactly what shadows lurked beneath the queen's graceful facade.

The king and his uncontrollable temper, the Queen and her underlying desire for control. Then there was you. Despite your cool faced facade and blank expression, there was always something left unsaid.

                                  <—{☆}—>                      

True to his previous judgement, Bunny really only arrived when the sun was set. Sensing the now familiar sting shoot down along his spine, he lifts his gaze to meet his own in the reflection of the widow. Similar hues of amurite the bustling streets seem to mock his predicament. In retaliation, he draws his curtains shut, plunging his room into complete darkness. This leaves him to his thoughts.

His highness is growing more erratic by the day. Bunny guesses it won't be long before the king's flimsy defenses cave in on themselves. Not that the ever so righteous king would admit to the possibility of such a thing. He really is a stubborn old man. It really is a wonder how the realm has survived so long under the reign of such a child man. The man falls to his bed with a deep sigh on his lips. The frame uncomfortably creaks beneath his weight.

Heaven is due for some new management. And he knows better than to look outward for such.

With you already at the forefront of his mind, he thinks back to the last time he had seen you. You were perched in the vibrant green of your personal haven, still, but ethereal. And accompanied by a foul creature. Sae— an envoy and trojan hoarse for the destruction of the Heavenly Realm. At that moment, he had already felt the air being sucked straight from his lungs.

Even now, he is rendered uneasy.

Nothing about the scene was particularly alarming. If anything, it seemed as though he'd trespassed on the secret rendezvous between old acquaintances. But the manner in which the demon leaned in while you made no attempt to back away, has Bunny inclined to think there may be something more at play. It was too natural, too intimate. And thus, too threatening, in his eyes. It seemed as though he had no issues being that close to you.

Iglesias knows what the auburn-haired monster is after. Sae was diligent enough to lay it all out upfront. But knowing that he's already that close to you makes him wonder just how much time the Duke has remaining until the fall of the Heavenly Empire.

But it's not as though the king is employing him to sit and sulk over his mountain of problems. No, his promised glory is exchanged for his ability to solve them. Even if it costs him an arm and a leg, he must see to it that his duty is fulfilled and Heaven's sacred treasure is preserved and kept out the scorching inferno.

                                  <—{☆}—>                      

The morning sunlight filters in through the drawn curtains, pouring its golden light into the room of your chamber. There's a faint sound of humming, going in tune with the comb being slipped through the strands of your hair. You eye the expression of the singer from the reflection of your vanity mirror.

"You seem to be rather elated, Georgia. Care to share?" you muse. The blonde startles, her eyes dramatically widening.

She politely brushes you off with a giggle, "Oh, no! Don't worry about me, your highness! We just happened to find a potential scoop." This peaks your interest. Noticing your interest, she continues. "Well, Mari found a guy who potentially knows the inside details of this whole Heaven-and-Hell-business. We don't know much about him, but Mari has set up a meeting with him."

You hum, "Now that is interesting. Would you mind seeing this one through? It does seem to be on the promising side." Georgia nods her head, nonetheless, bowing her head.

"As you wish, your highness."

There's a faint knock at the door. With your permission, it opens, revealing your second attendant, Maria. In her hand, there's a tightly sealed envelope atop a pile of laundry.

Maria hands you the white envelope. The expression on her face is a strange mixture between confusion and excitement. The seal is a deep red, marked with a doodle of a bunny. Its charm is in the cute, yet childish appearance of the design. Curious as to who the sender could possibly be, you tear open the envelope and skim over its contents.

                                  <—{☆}—>                      

'Dear Cisne Mudo

Meeting you in private for the first time really was a pleasurable treat after toiling away within the Royal Court for hours on end. It had emphasised the deeply seated loneliness into which I had been plunged. Even now, I cannot help but lament the curt manner in which our time together has been thus far.

It would be of the utmost honour, if you would allow me to invite you outside the palace for an afternoon.

Kindest regards,

Your fiancé'

                                  <—{☆}—>                      

You frown. True to his word, Bunny really did contact you. You'll give him that much. Though, such extravagance is excessive. Is it a way to ensure neither you nor Leo would disregard his message? Or perhaps a way to simulate the familiarity of lovers. Except, as your fiancé, practically all communication from him is automatically accepted as safe to enter the palace walls.

There's a quiet scoff that comes from your lips without you realising. A hand runs through your hair while you glare at the parchment as though it were the man himself. You have half a mind to discard the letter when you feel a light tug on your hair.

"Your highness! An invitation from the Duke, himself? You must go!" Georgia gasps, moving to fix the tussled stands.

"Is it truly necessary?" you suck in a sharp breath between teeth, deliberately ignoring the fact that she'd read your letter from over your shoulder; a punishable offense.

Behind you, the blonde folds her arms and pouts, "Of course! This is your fiancé! And the Duke Iglesias! You have to go! If not for him, for the better of your future union!"

You whine, "But, I don't—"

You're cut off by a stone cold glare from the woman behind you. To your side, Maria turn away. Clearly, she has no interest in incurring Georgia's wrath for your sake.

You tense on the spot before letting out a sigh.

                                  <—{☆}—>                      

The Royal carriage comes to a halt on one of the streets at the capital. The Duke is the first to rise, stepping out the carriage to aid in your exit. He holds his hand out to you, the usual charismatic smile gracing his face. "We have arrived, your highness."

You take his hand and step out of the carriage. Using your hand as a driver, he steers you down the street. It's busy— with merchants loudly announcing their offers and children gleefully running about.

A couple of them nearly bump into you, slightly stumbling before taking off in a sprint down the street. Few mutter a quick apology, while the others don't even offer so much as a sideward glance in your general direction. Loose feathers fall from their wings and flustered to the floor. Your eyes follow them through the crowd— the carefree nature of their movements and bubbly laughter. It's a stark contrast to the quiet loneliness that settles within the Palace walls. The world zips past you; layered conversations, uncoordinated steps, the chimes of bells above the doors of nearby bakeries and ateliers.

You exhale, utterly entranced by the atmosphere. A deeper exhale mirrors yours beside you. Your attentions is kept in the direction of the now lost children— as if you could still see their figures through the hoards of angels that crowd the capital.

"The capital really is a soothing experience, isn't it?" he hums. You catch a brief moment of hesitance wherein he casts his gaze to the skies above. His hand stiffens in yours for a fraction of a second.

Oh? That's new. You never knew Iglesias to be someone so tense nor did you know him to be someone who'd hesitate in any matter. Though, it does stand to reason that you don't know him at all.

"I really am happy that you decided to accompany me this afternoon." You glance at his side profile for a moment.

"It would be rude to ignore your invitation, no?"

At the back of your mind, you envision a stern Georgia watching you from over your shoulder. Truth be told, you're not sure why such a vision frightens you to the point of obedience. Your response earns a quiet chuckle from the man. "Anyway, you never mentioned what you planned for us today."

The Duke turns to you with a gleeful grin stretches across his lips. "That's because it'll be a surprise!"

"A surprise?" you parrot, shifting your gaze to your surroundings again. A deadpan expression flattens the features of your face.

"A surprise," he repeats. "I figured a woman such as yourself would need one to brighten her day." His grin widens as he leans closer to you. You flinch with a slight frown, causing his own expression to flicker with surprise. He smoothly pulls away soon after.

"In the meantime, we can explore this side of the capital."

You avert your gaze to the stalls that surround you. Duke Iglesias is a great many things: a sly man, distrustful, always too close yet somehow just out of reach. Still, you can't exactly call him a plain liar either. There always is some merit of truth to him.

He's right, the capital really is soothing. It's warm, radiant, almost as though the world itself is at perfect peace. It's difficult to maintain a cool facade when all you can see is contentment on every face. The smile that tugs at your lips is a direct result of that.

Midstep, something catches your attention from the corner of your eye. You happen to pass one of the stalls with an array of trinkets on display. Curious as they are, your eyes are drawn to the single book that lays off to the side— clearly in an attempt to disregard its existence. The pages are wrapped by a burgundy material, clearly worn down from excessive use. The edges are jagged with an unfamiliar sigil plastered on its front. You recognise neither its mark nor its design. It's too foreign. Perhaps a script from beyond the borders? But how far? If so, you can note as much as you can of the the clerk's general information and send Maria to retrieve it in private. That can work.

It should work! Your eyes light up before dulling to your usual, practiced deadpan. All that's needed now is for you to return and axt as though nothing is amiss.

Unfortunately for you, you had halted for a moment too long, making the snow-haired man turn to you with a puzzled expression. It takes far too little time for him to pick up on what caused your brief pause. Suddenly sensing his knowing gaze on you, you freeze.

The two of you remain still in the busy street for a few seconds. Neither of you speak a word. Each moment only has you further tensing in your spot. Iglesias lowers his head with a slight tilt. His question is clear to you, even through sealed lips: "See something interesting?"

You're quick to deny, "No, nothing worth stopping for." Iglesias says nothing. Even so, there's a slight sparkle in his eye that says everything; you're lying and he knows it. His lowers to your shoulder, lightly pinning you in place to receive your confession.

There's a pause in your thoughts. You too do not believe your own lie.

Quickly, your eyes dart over the stall. It doesn't even have to be appealing— it just has to be enough of a distraction to avert suspicion. As if answering your prayer, a sharp glint catches your attention.

You sharply inhale, pointing in its direction, "Well, I was looking at the hairpin on display, but I really can go without it! We should leave." Without a second thought, you're lightly shoving hom aside and moving to continue your journey. You're not sure where exactly your destination is or what's planned when you arrive, but you're not in the mental state to care.

Instead of the seamless motion of travelling from before, you're immediately jerked backward. Your head whips round to find that the Duke hasn't moved an inch. To keep you in place, his hand circles your wrist. His gaze remains fixed in the direction you'd pointed, almost as if he's tracking the object of your interest.

He's already dragging you to the stall, ignoring your protests. When you arrive, you're met with the face of the sketchy merchant. It's fairly elder looking man. Mid 50s, you'd guess. He seems to be experienced in trade. "Hi, how may I help you today? Are you here to perhaps purchase something for your beautiful lover, my lord?"

You pause at the title; 'lover.' It is fair that he'd assume as much. Two young lovers, strolling through the capital of the Heavenly Realm, hand in hand. It should bring you comfort, knowing that your betrothed has socially assimilated into his role— leaving you with less court work for later. Yet somehow, you're a bit peeved. That single perception only makes your future with him all the more certain.

You and Duke Iglesias are set to be wed. You will be his wife, just as he will be your husband. By then, you will have lost the small authority you'd gained throughout the time of your life. And what will become of you then?

Iglesias mirrors the owner's professional grin, snaking an arm around you to draw you into his side. His hold is secure and his body is warm. Yet somehow, his firm grip on you seems more like a threat. "As a matter of fact, you're correct. I plan on purchasing something for my fiancée. What would the pricing of that book there tally up to?"

At the mere mention of the transcript, agitation flares over the face of the stall owner. He forces a polite smile, "Unfortunately, this product isn't fit for public consumption. How it made it onto the table is beyond me. Apologies for the misunderstanding, my lord. If you're still interested, there are other, much better options for the lovely lady." You watch as he frantically shoves the book aside in an attempt to further conceal its presence.

Iglesias doesn't back down, instead pushing harder. "Really, is that so? Surely we cannot come to some form of an agreement? See, I am under strict imperial orders to appease my future wife and your future queen. And right now, the manner in which it shall be done is by lavishing her with as many gifts as I may attain within Heaven's borders. So, I have to get my hands on that book as it would greatly please my lovely cisne mudo. Surely, you're not willing to turn me down under these circumstances, no?" The stare-down that ensues only serves to compress you between the two.

The clerk's business smile twitches at the edges, his voice getting a bit rougher along the edges, "Genuinely, my lord, that object is not for public consumption. And without the proper documents, how must I know you speak the truth? Until I receive proof of your word, I shall not be giving it."

The white-haired nobleman adjusts his hold on you, slightly shifting to shield you from the man's sight. "Then, view it as a one-time deal between two people with wanted assets." He reaches into the pocket of his coat. You notice the bulge of his movements beneath the fabric before he pulls out a bag of gold coins.

Oh.

Teasingly, he shakes it from side to side, allowing for the rustling of the coins to be heard. "Would you still claim that I cannot take such an item off your hands?"

You notice as the irises of the man's eyes follow the bag. Back and forth, to and fro. The greed that glimmers and expands in proportion to his pupils is susceptible, even to you. He clears his throat to regain his composure. In a fraction of a second, the book is snatched up and offered to the nobleman beside you.

"When you put it that way, my lord, it really is a blessing that it would be so generous!"

A pleased grin takes over the Duke's features. He holds out the bag. "Then, generous I shall be. Oh, if it isn't too much trouble, could you also add that hairpin into the tab?" Both you and the merchant pause, shooting your attention to the accessory that lays near the centre of the display. Neither of you expected him to want it.

Though, seeing as he's already in a good mood, the man swipes it from the surface upon which it rests and holds it for the nobleman's taking. "Of course, my lord!" he barks out a laugh. "I don't see why I shouldn't repay your overflowing indulgence, by throwing in another gift for the lovely lady on your arm!"

You force a smile, "Thank you. That really is kind of you, but I guarantee you, it isn't necessary—"

The Duke wordlessly takes the good and sets off, holding you close to his side. "Thank you, good sir. Business was a pleasure."

The merchant gleefully giggles as he eyes the moneybag, "Likewise. I do hope you return soon!" His elation is soon drowned out by the crowd as you step further out toward the outskirts of the capital.

                                  <—{☆}—>                      

You note that the smooth, polished limestone beneath your feet slowly fades to compact, dirt roads— hardened by the weight of its use. You are aware of the fact that a patch of land had been left untouched, owing to the civilians that fought for such conservation within the ever-expanding territory of the Heavenly Realm.

The state of the acre is bright, practically overgrown. It reminds you of your own garden, drawing tension from your weary bones. The serenity of the scene enchants you. So it's not all too surprising when you bump into the Duke when he suddenly halts.

He turns to you with a grin, "We're here." With a gesture toward a large tree in the near distance, you're presented with an open expanse of land. In the middle, there is a clear dam. Light dances upon the light ripples in the water. The hitch in your breath isn't left unheard by the Duke.

"I hadn't realised such a place existed in the capital," you murmur, more to yourself. Few people occupy the space. It  does seem to be for the nature-loving loners, elderly couples and young families who longed for a place guarded enough for their children to roam. They're all scattered across the grassland— contentedly spending their afternoon beneath the sun.

There's a smooth chuckle, "Interesting you say that. I thought you of all people would know of it. Or at the very least— the amount of effort it took to keep this place conserved."

And there goes your amazement, now replaced by your common dissatisfaction with the unpigmented aristocrat. Must he ruin everything? The man seems pleased with your reaction before ushering you to the vacant picnic beneath the tree.

"Well, I was aware of the fact that many of the common folk had fought for this land," you retort. Your gaze lowers, a frown tugging at the corners of your features. But—

"Nobody had given any specifics as to why the people had gone through such efforts," Iglesias finishes for you. You shoot him a sidelong glare for interrupting your own sacred thoughts. Clouded onyx irises meet your own before being closed off by thick lashes. He steps to the blanket and plops himself down, leaning against the tree. Your eyes track his movements as he pats the spot beside him.

Silently, you set yourself a fair distance away from him. When he offers one of his inviting smiles, you immediately shrink away even further. His smile morphs to one riddled with concern. "Didn't think you were so space-conscious, your highness," he muses. Despite the disappointment in his tone, he doesn't make any attempts to close the distance between you.

"What made you think otherwise?" you cautiously question.

The Duke reaches for the grimoire, picking up the hairpin to dangle in your face. He smirks, "Don't know. Seeing your own fiancée having a secret rendezvous with a man in her garden may definitely give off such an impression, no?" The jewel at the tip glints beneath the warm rays of the sun. Instantly, you're reminded of a shade of auburn that you have all but memorised within the last month or so.

Your heart skips a beat. Whether that reaction stems from surprise, fear or something else entirely is unknown to you in the current moment. You're not in any place to question it at the moment, so you chalk it up to the first instead. A faint hum resounds in your throat, "When you phrase it like that, I sound unfaithful."

No further elaboration is offered. Taking this as a silent challenge, Iglesias tilts his head, placing the ornament atop the book. "May you never claim that I had made such a remark, cisne mudo."

For that period of time, neither of you utter a word.

"Since we're already on the topic of demons in the palace," Iglesias mutters. His gaze falls to the tome laid between you. "Care to explain this?" He lightly taps the book with a playful grin. You freeze for a second. What answer is he hoping to receive? A confession? Potential leverage in further discussions and decision-making?

Instead of scrutinising over the seemingly infinite possibilities of responses, you deduce narrowing them down is best. "That depends, what do you want to know? You should be aware that no honourable lady of the court would bare herself to any man before marriage in any manner. Even if he is her husband-to-be," you state. The expression on your face retains its neutral form.

Internally, you pat yourself on the back with a pleased smirk. Nice one.

A near childish pout forms on the face of your fiancé. "What do I mean? Dearest, I'm talking about your strange behaviour as of late. When I spoke to your mother, she never mentioned that you were such a... busy body who mingled with any creature who craved attention." His eyes flick to his side before a slight frown twitches at the corners of his lips. He immediately leans closer, lacing his fingers with yours on the surface of the blanket between you.

"I worry for you, mundo, deeply so. It's a real danger for the princess of Heaven, if she's taken by an evil band of demons. What would we do without such a treasure in our vault?"

Your heart stops. Surely, you haven't been too obvious in your pursuit of knowledge. Or maybe you have, if even the Duke is aware, it really is only a matter of time before the King hears of this. And what then? Confinement? Trial? Execution? No, as of right now, he's not allowed to execute you. You can bank on that much. But whatever he does decide, it won't pan out well for you. Your worry seems to show at the edges of your features as the Duke offers a small grin.

Iglesias chortles, "Is such a matter that big a concern for you, your highness?" You raise a brow at his antics. "Relax, princess. Your father isn't aware. Yet. His hands are tied with other matters and I haven't mentioned a word of this to him. He's completely in the dark about your sneaking around." A sigh of relief escapes you. Your relief is short before you realise something crucial.

You suspiciously eye the Duke. "There's a but, isn't there?"

He blinks. "A but? Mudo, what would make you think I would introduce such a thing?" he gasps, creating space between you. That isn't a story you're willing to buy. Though, you're not in the business of landing yourself into unnecessary debts. Carefully, you turn your head to the pond ahead.

The silence carried in by the light breeze speaks for you. Your gaze trails to the glistening pond. A graceful,  feathered figure glides over the surface— silent, but beautiful. It cranes its head to the water. Both you and the Duke watch it from your spot on the picnic blanket. Beside you, the Duke hums, "Though, if I must decide on something..."

You don't look at him. And you do not need to. He knows you're listening. With that comfort, he turns his head to gaze upon the pond as well. "I must ask for two things."

An eyebrow is arched on your end. "Two? Is that greed I sense?"

"Repayment. I concealed your dealings with Sae from your father and purchased a demonic grimoire. I count those as two tokens of favour for which I may seek payment."

Your heart clenches at the mere mention of the demon's name. To feign nonchalance, you hum in response. A fair trade, really. There isn't much you can fault in such logic. "Fine. Make your demands."

Iglesias shifts back against the bark of the tree. A deep sigh escapes his lips. His eyes fall to your figure— still, tranquil, graceful. For a moment, he's simply admiring you before looking back to the swan on the lake. A few children have  gathered along the banks to admire the bird. Some attempt to imitate its refined mannerisms.

Still, it remains untouched— far out of reach.

He's then reminded of you and his relationship with you. Something sophisticated and poised. Even with the limitless knowledge you'd acquired, you are manage to remain just out of reach. Though, he doubts he's the only one who feels so estranged from you. Those within your inner circle seem to be just beyond an arm's length away. Close enough to be associated with your prestige, but much too far to access your wisdom or imitate your way of life.

And yet, it appears that it is what adds to your charm. If he were to reach out now, could he reach you? Would slip into the still waters of your domain and drown? He isn't too sure, but he's curious enough to find out.

"Stay out of Hell's business, your highness."

Huh?

Puzzlement pulls at your face as you whine your head around to him. Your lips part, but no words fall out. They die on the tip of your tongue— equal parts too impactful to be kept unsaid and too weak to be voiced aloud. "And what would that mean?" you ask. Not the question you would've liked to ask, but the only one that was willing to spring forth anyway.

Your eyes meet his and you notice the seriousness in his. A light breeze slips through the pale strands of hair on his head. A puff of air escapes his lips, "Stop digging, your highness. Not only are your hands so ill-suited for such a task, but doing so will only invite unwanted trouble."

'And keep away from him. He only seeks to take you from this realm.'

The words die in his throat. He can't find it in himself to try. In place of his unsaid advice, his hand grabs ahold of yours, bringing it to his lips for a chaste kiss to your knuckles. "I could never forgive myself, if I allowed such filth to sully the hands of the future queen."

Surprise overtakes your features, giving your eyes wider appearance. There's an odd mix of sincerity in his tone and actions. Before you could fully immerse yourself in the genuine side to the man at your side, a cheeky grin situated itself on his face.

"Besides, you'd look terrible in red and black. Stick to white and gold."

It takes a pregnant period for his words to settle. And when they do, your mood sours. You hiss, "Must you always be so difficult?" A frown etches itself into your features without your permission.

"Difficult? Goodness, cisne mudo, do you take me for a fickle partner? I am merely offering genuine advice," Iglesias quietly sobs, covering his 'wounded' heart with his palm.

This marks the beginning of a back and forth between you. With whatever you say, the Duke has a respond lined up and ready to fire. Each one triggers an even stronger reaction from you than before. A few wandering eyes halt at your hushed, yet agitated tone paired with his playful teasing. Some hum. Others snicker. In the end, your quarrel has become something of a spectacle for the nearby onlookers.

You bite back a curse of your own before Iglesias tugs your hand to his chest. It's then that you're reminded of the fact that his hand still gently cradles yours within the faux warmth of his palm. Your irritated gaze meets his that exudes a certain level of calmness and surety that you currently lack. "I promise, cisne mudo. Should you heed my word, I'll make it worth your while after the current political issues subside. I swear on it— on my honour as the current Duke of Cielo and my future as king of Heaven."

Light glimmers over the surface of his eyes, bringing a glimmer of life to the crimson hue. Perhaps trusting his word may prove to be quite the benefit. This time.

                                 <—{☆}—>                      

With the Duke's request still ringing in your ears, the carriage pulls into the gates of the Eastern Palace. Much like the trip outside the gate, the cart is deathly silent. After your discussion beneath the tree, neither of you have much more to say. Furthermore, you hadn't explicitly given your own answer. So when the aristocrat watches you disappear behind the grandiose doors of the palace, he finds himself praying for your compliance.

The thought perishes when he notices a second vehicle of conveyance approaching. His eyes spot a flash of striking blonde that he recognises as that of one of your attendants. When she steps out the carriage, she's followed by your second attendant. At the sight of him, both of them tense up with the blonde's eyes displaying a mere flicker of panic. She hugs a small leather box to her chest, the edges worn and its binding tight. The brunette politely bows, the other following suit. It hardly takes a second before the pair scamper in through the doors where he loses sight of them too.

Curiosity gnaws at his soul. The two of them couldn't have possibly left the palace without word from you. Had you sent them? What errands could you have made them run? Does it have anything to do with Hell?

It's in asking these questions that he finds himself browsing through the inventory of the carriage. There's nothing particularly alarming; fabrics, accessories, jewellery, papers and ink. Hardly anything to be so apprehensive over. Is there perhaps something between the—

"And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing, Duke Iglesias?" A stern voice booms. Like a child, the chalk haired man jumps from the trunk of the cart. He spots the royal butler, Leonidas approaching with a few guards— whom he assumes are here to escort the recently procured goods.

A guilty grin stretches across the man's face, "Nothing of concern. Merely..."

He pauses, searching for the right word to describe his actions. "Glancing?" The unimpressed deadpan of the butler mirrors his displeasure. Iglesias deflates, clapping his hands together with a bow. "Please forgive me. I grew curious, you can't blame a man for that, no?"

Leo's frown deepens. He steps closer to Bunny before whispering, "Curious as you may be, I cannot allow you to go sifting through the belongings of her highness. It matters not what your intentions were or what orders you were issued by his majesty."

Without another word, the man pushes past the Duke to retrieve your goods. He's left to stand on his own amidst the crowded yard. And once again, he's finding himself praying to God himself that his concern for your safety is  unfounded.

a/n: Finally! We are free! Exams are over (for now) and I'm not suffering from writer's block!

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