Chapter 9
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“Edmund’s been hauled off to Princess Juliette’s estate,” Donovan blurted, rushing into the room. His eyes caught Luciana on the bed and he froze, cheeks blazing like a summer sunset.
Fresh from her bath, Luciana lounged against the pillows, flipping through Dorian’s messy schoolwork.
Her bare calves dangled over the bed’s edge, swaying lazily. A sheer, rose–colored veil clung to her thighs, half–hidden by the bed’s gauzy curtains.
The faint outline of her form through the fabric was enough to set a man’s mind adrift.
Donovan silently thanked the stars for those curtains, though they didn’t stop his thoughts from wandering where they shouldn’t.
His ears burned, the flush creeping down his neck.
Luciana didn’t look up. “Hauled off? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Edmund had sworn they’d treat him like a lord–fine wine, soft bed, the whole shebang.
Donovan kept his head down, but his eyes flicked to her swaying legs.
Finally, he squeezed them shut, like he was staring down a dragon, and stammered, “They just… grabbed him, my lady. The servants weren’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat.”
Eyes closed, the room’s warmth hit him hard–steamy air thick with the scent of her floral bath, curling around him like a charm.
Luciana snapped Dorian’s book shut, wincing at his awful handwriting.
Edmund’s scrawl was better than this nonsense.
The pages had come that morning, per her orders to Dorian’s guards: send his work every few days so she could see if he was slacking.
“Donovan,” she said sharply, “take this back tomorrow and tell them to stop sending his scribbles. No more, got it?” She held out the papers, waiting for Donovan to step up.
He didn’t move. Eyes shut tight, he stood rooted, cursing his wayward thoughts.
“Hm?” Luciana parted the curtains and saw Donovan, red as a ripe cherry. She sat up, startled. “Good heavens, who clocked you?”
Snapped out of his daze, Donovan peeked–and instantly regretted it. The curtains no longer hid what they’d veiled.
He covered his eyes. “N–nobody, my lady! I’m fine, I swear!”
Luciana stifled a laugh. This one was too sweet–pure as a spring lamb and twice as fun to tease.
Hiding her grin, she stepped closer. “Hands out.”
Donovan, sensing her near, kept his eyes clamped shut, bracing for a scolding. He stuck out his trembling hands like a kid caught stealing.
“Here,” she said, dropping the papers into his palms. “Get these to the palace tomorrow. Tell them no more. Don’t mess it up.”
Donovan bolted like a spooked horse, but her orders were seared into his mind.
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Chapter 9
Edmund tugged at his plain tunic and followed the servant to meet Juliette.
In his old life, their first words came much later, when he was decked out in the fine clothes Luciana had chosen.
Now, his garb was simple, but he was seeing Juliette early.
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She’d once told him, with a shy smile, that even at their first quiet encounter, she’d etched his face into her heart. His simple garb couldn’t mask the noble spark in him.
Back then, she’d made up her mind that the Faulkner family wasn’t tangled in any treasonous mess.
That thought warmed his soul. Even before they’d grown close, Juliette had faith in his kin.
Now he could right the wrongs of his old life. Whatever he faced, it was worth it.
In the hall, Edmund’s eyes locked on Juliette, brimming with honest warmth.
Juliette frowned. To her, his bold stare was just plain cheeky.
“What’re you gawking at?” her maid snapped. “Kneel!”
Edmund hesitated. Kneeling didn’t sit right anymore. When he’d first arrived in Elarion City, he’d bowed to everyone like a whipped dog. But since Luciana took him in, he’d only knelt for the king.
His body might be humble, but his soul had clawed back some pride.
He shot Juliette a pleading look, hoping she’d see his discomfort. Instead, she looked annoyed.
“What, my sister didn’t teach you manners?” she huffed.
Edmund’s heart sank. He dropped to his knees in a hurry. He’d been a mess since sneaking out of Luciana’s estate last night. Pride? Gone.
But this was the price to see Juliette. Once they met, it’d all fall into place.
‘So why does it feel… off?‘ he wondered.
He knelt, forgetting to offer a proper greeting. Juliette eyed him like a dull log, thinking, ‘No wonder Luciana cut him loose.‘
“Didn’t my sister take you in?” Juliette asked, her voice sharp. “Why’re you out here, stirring up trouble at my gates?”
Edmund didn’t think. “I don’t want to stay at Princess Luciana’s,” he blurted. “I came to beg you to take me in.”
Juliette’s jaw dropped. ‘This guy is down on his luck and still picky? Even if the Faulkners weren’t disgraced, who is he to act choosy?‘
“Edmund,” she said, barely hiding her disbelief, “you’ve got some nerve.”
Edmund’s face burned as he realized his mistake.
He’d thought Juliette would welcome him with open arms. Instead, he’d spilled his heart like a fool.
After a pause, Juliette softened. “It’s not that I won’t help, but it’s tricky. You can stay, but keep quiet. No wandering, and nobody can know
you’re here.”
She forced a smile. “I’ll talk to my sister, see if I can get you back to her.”
To her, this mess was Luciana’s to deal with.
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Chapter 9
Edmund bit back a protest, his jaw tightening. ‘Maybe Juliette thinks Luciana’s still got her claws in the. That’s why she’s so guarded.
Alright, I’ll stick around and sort it out later!
It wasn’t the warm welcome he’d hoped for, but he was in.
Juliette added, “I’m not married yet, so a strange man in my estate could start tongues wagging. You’ll have to put up with some hardship.”
“Thank you, Princess Juliette,” Edmund said eagerly. “I can handle a bit of roughing it.”
At Luciana’s, he’d been locked away, barred from seeing anyone. He hadn’t minded then, and he could take it now.
Juliette waved him off, and a servant led him away. She turned to her maid. “Put him in the kitchen–chopping wood, hauling water. Tell him to keep his trap shut. To outsiders, he’s just another hired hand.”
“No need to make a fuss,” she added. “We don’t want the household getting nosy.”
The maid nodded and went to arrange it.
Edmund was led to a cramped servants‘ bunk, a musty room by the stables. His bunkmates were coarse grooms and coachmen, their rough voices echoing through the thin walls.
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