Chapter 34
Amelia’s gaze settled on the cutlery neatly arranged on the table. The palace servants had polished it so thoroughly that her face reflected perfectly on the blade of the knife.
“You must be surprised by the sudden invitation to dinner.”
Ivan’s voice brought Amelia’s eyes up from the mirrored surface.
“I hadn’t expected the High Priestess to come in person, so I fear the welcome may have been lacking. As your host, I owe you an apology.”
His tone was unhurried, as though he wouldn’t mind if the apology wasn’t accepted. It was a familiar attitude—one he’d always worn, from the first day they met to this very evening. Occasionally, a glimpse of something unmasked would show through his composed exterior, and Amelia would wonder if that was the real Ivan. Thinking of it now, he felt almost unfamiliar.
“Bring in the food.”
At his command, the waiting servants began laying dishes out across the table.
“I can only hope it suits your taste.”
Ivan offered politely as the servants filled each of their glasses. Amelia lifted her glass first and took a small sip. It looked like water—but the moment it touched her tongue, her eyes widened.
She turned to Ivan.
Their gazes met. Ivan, already raising his own glass, covered his mouth with it—but the shape of a smile was unmistakable. He remembered, surely, the time she’d spat out her drink in a most undignified manner. He was teasing her.
“What’s wrong?”
Louie, noticing Amelia’s expression, asked with concern.
“Nothing,” Amelia replied, shaking her head. She swallowed the drink carefully. Thankfully, she hadn’t spat it out this time—not in a place like this, in front of so many eyes.
“So, what brings the High Priestess here herself?”
Ivan asked casually, sipping his drink. He didn’t even glance at the roast duck or salad before him.
“Ah…”
“She heard His Majesty was looking for the person who cared for the child. Since the child was looked after so dearly by the Priestess from the moment she was found on the streets, she wanted to visit,” Louie jumped in, cutting off Amelia’s hesitation with a quick, seamless lie.
“She’s been eager to see the child again.”
“I see…”
Ivan accepted Louie’s answer without so much as a twitch of displeasure. He surely knew that she was the daughter of the powerful House Skipper—a noble family known for siding with the Temple—but showed no sign of concern.
“I apologize for summoning you over such a small matter as the child crying.”
“No need to apologize.”
Ivan offered the apology easily, and the servants—well aware of his usual arrogance—shared silent, knowing glances among themselves.
“If you could think of this as a rare chance to relax, I’d feel better. I’ve heard temple life can be rather… strict.”
He gestured slightly at Louie’s untouched glass. She noticed and quickly raised it to her lips.
“Today’s visit will be kept in confidence.”
“Thank you.”
She offered her thanks. If Amelia’s drink was alcoholic, then Louie’s likely was as well. Yet Louie drank with ease, without any hesitation.
Amelia took a few cautious sips herself, but even that was enough to bring a warm flush to her skin. She couldn’t keep pretending forever.
“Don’t you grow tired of living in one place for too long?”
As Amelia set down her glass, Ivan’s question followed. Their eyes met again, and the soft light from the chandelier reflected in his pale green eyes, making them gleam like polished emeralds. It was hard to look away.
“You lived at Duke Russell’s when you first arrived, didn’t you? And now the Temple. I imagine it must get dull.”
“I suppose… a little.”
At her honest reply, Ivan chuckled softly—clearly pleased.
“In that case, what about moving into the palace? I could have a residence built, no less grand than the Temple’s.”
“No, absolutely not!”
Before Amelia could even respond, Louie abruptly jumped in. Ivan’s eyes shifted toward her. Her fair cheeks had flushed deep pink.
No wonder. A servant had been topping off her drink every time her glass emptied, and she was already on her fourth.
“Looks like the Lady of House Skipper is a bit tipsy.”
His voice was almost void of emotion, but he didn’t miss the signs—Louie’s grip loosening, her gaze wavering.
“N-no, I’m fine,” Louie tried to argue.
“I’m completely—hic—fine.”
A hiccup followed, ruining any credibility her words had.
“Perhaps we should end dinner here.”
“…”
“What do you think?”
He wasn’t speaking to Louie. That much was clear. His eyes remained on Amelia.
“Ah…”
She hesitated. She knew she should respond quickly, but her lips wouldn’t move. She didn’t know if she would get another chance like this to see him face to face.
“Excuse me.”
At that moment, Ivan’s hand swept across the table, knocking a piece of cutlery to the floor.
Both of them leaned down at once to retrieve the fallen knife. It spun briefly on the marble floor before settling.
Amelia’s hand reached it just as Ivan’s did.
“….”
Startled, she looked up slightly—and found him leaning a bit closer.
His breath brushed her nape.
A shiver ran down her spine, and her lips parted instinctively.
“Tonight,” he whispered.
“…”
“I’ll come to you.”
The words slid into her ear like a forbidden temptation. Her hand curled without meaning to, pulling away from the knife.
Ivan took it instead and rose gracefully.
“Did I startle you? My apologies.”
To Amelia, it had felt like minutes, but in truth, only a few seconds had passed. Louie was still swaying in her seat, and the servant who took the knife back from Ivan’s hand remained expressionless, unaware of anything odd.
“No, no. It’s fine,” Amelia replied quickly, though her voice trembled. She desperately hoped no one would notice anything strange between them.
“I should go now.”
“Of course.”
Amelia stood and helped Louie to her feet. The girl leaned heavily against her.
“…”
Just before leaving the banquet hall, Amelia couldn’t help but glance over her shoulder.
Ivan was nowhere to be seen. But somehow, she felt certain—he wasn’t smiling.
Louie, completely drunk, had collapsed in her guest room. Amelia watched as palace maids undressed her and wiped her face with a damp cloth, then quietly stepped into her own chamber.
She passed the bed and moved to the terrace. Throwing the window open with a firm push, she stared out over the garden and toward the path to the western wing. He’d said he would come, and surely he would use that path. It seemed the most logical.
When would he arrive?
Just as the thought passed her mind—
Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back. In an instant, she disappeared into the darkness.
Before she could even scream, the terrace door slammed shut with a loud bang.
“Mmmph…”
And before she could demand to know who it was, a hand cupped her jaw and tilted her face up.
His lips claimed hers.
The windowpane at her back was icy cold. But the arms locking her in place, the chest pressing against her—were hot and unyielding. Like chains.
