Chapter 67
Eleanor’s expression froze in surprise at Cain’s words.
“Partner tomorrow?” She had never seen such a proposal from him.
After rejecting Cain’s offer to be his partner in front of the Étoile Dessert House, she hadn’t seen him again until this very moment.
‘Is he… lying on purpose, for my sake…?’
Cain smiled faintly, as if telling her she could just stay put. Eleanor didn’t know whether to move or stay and simply stared at him.
Ilya glanced back and forth between Eleanor and Cain, his expression sour.
“Seems the lady is quite popular. Changing partners every day.”
“It’s thanks to those who care for Eleanor,” Cain said, smiling with just his lips.
“Hmm… I was going to request to be your partner tomorrow myself,” Ilya grumbled in a dissatisfied voice. Eleanor felt a chill run down her neck.
If she partnered with the Crown Prince on the final day of the ball, it would openly declare to the world that they were serious.
Eleanor had no desire to become close to him, nor to leave Tritan and become a crown princess of a foreign land.
Every time the Crown Prince opened his mouth, Eleanor felt a shiver as if something was deeply wrong. Her instincts screamed that she had to leave.
‘I have to head down to Oklama as soon as the welcome party ends.’
She had considered staying a few more days, but lingering in Bairn any longer could risk Ilya complicating things. She wanted to avoid being unwillingly labeled the Crown Prince’s future bride of Lyrafl.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I promised before the ball even began that I would be the partner on the final day.”
“Isn’t that something you could break if it weren’t important?”
“To break a promise made to a lady goes against the code of knights. As the deputy commander of the Royal Knights, the sword of the royal family, I cannot sully the laws of Tritan’s knights,” Cain replied, firm and unyielding, sidestepping Ilya’s subtle pressure.
Since he was the deputy commander of the Royal Knights, Ilya could not press further. A knight speaking of the code protecting the Tritan royal family—how could a foreign crown prince demand otherwise?
Cain’s polite and respectful attitude left no room for Ilya to find fault.
“…Tsk.”
Cain gave Eleanor a regretful glance and clicked his tongue. He had come straight to find her, hoping to claim the final day’s partner spot, yet the place was already full. He clicked his tongue at the missed opportunity from the first day.
“So, who’s your partner now, milady?”
Ilya’s tone hinted at a shallow plan to casually steal the partner spot if it were someone insignificant.
Eleanor hesitated, unsure whether to mention Sinclair’s name. She couldn’t easily speak of the sacrifice she had made for Lydia. She didn’t want the male protagonist to be needlessly dragged into her affairs.
“Hmm? Who is it?”
Seeing Eleanor unable to answer, Ilya pressed further, hopeful. Perhaps her partner was absent or of a trivial family.
“Me, Your Highness,” a cold, firm voice came from behind.
Startled, Eleanor turned. Sinclair approached, his expression unreadable.
“And who might you be?”
“I am Viscount Tess. My father once had the honor of meeting Your Highness, the Crown Prince,” he replied.
True to the influential Tess family of the Empire, he had connections with major figures of the Lyrafl Kingdom.
Ilya flinched at the mention of Sinclair’s house. The Tess family was the most powerful in Tritan; Ilya had met the head of the family once. Their trading company was the largest foreign enterprise in Lyrafl.
“You were Viscount Tess’s partner, milady Stikov.”
“Yes, Your Highness. I apologize if I put my partner in an awkward position while I was briefly absent,” Eleanor said as Sinclair stood by her side, his gloved hand lightly resting on her shoulder.
“I hope there’s no problem with my partner,” he said.
“No, nothing like that,” Eleanor replied.
“Good. I am honored to greet Your Highness with my partner today,” Sinclair said, a flawless and picturesque smile spreading across his face.
Eleanor snapped out of her daze when his hand gripped her shoulder lightly. Sinclair was paving the way, and she had to follow.
“Viscount Tess will be my partner today, Your Highness. Now that my partner has returned, I should step back gracefully,” Eleanor said, leaving Ilya’s face shadowed with disappointment.
Eleanor, already indifferent after speaking with Ilya, wanted to leave as soon as possible. Seeing the sweat on her temple, Sinclair stepped forward.
“We must move; the first dance is about to begin,” he said.
“The first dance… Ah, I see,” Ilya muttered, clearly annoyed that Eleanor would dance first with Sinclair.
“I’ll claim the lady’s second dance in advance,” Ilya added.
“Yes, of course,” Eleanor replied, quickly masking her momentary irritation.
“Milady Stikov, you may proceed. I grant you permission,” Sinclair said, almost as if he were her master, even though he was only her partner.
Sinclair restrained the faint trace of annoyance around his eyes. Eleanor had to force herself not to look disgusted.
“We shall take our leave, Your Highness,” he said, and they walked away.
Eleanor turned and gave Cain a brief nod. A proper thank-you would have to wait. Cain understood, nodding slightly in return.
Ilya’s persistent gaze followed them, forcing Eleanor and Sinclair to maintain a composed, linked-arm appearance. Sinclair guided her naturally to avoid bumping into others, weaving through the crowd to the center where the first dance would begin.
“Let’s have our first dance,” Sinclair whispered, his low voice pleasing to the ear.
“I know you don’t want to dance, but this is necessary,” he added.
Eleanor nodded obediently. She had told Ilya she was going to dance, so it would be embarrassing if she were caught skipping.
Sinclair looked at her, then asked, “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“What?”
“That I am your partner. Why didn’t you say it right away?”
He referred to her hesitation when Ilya asked about her partner.
‘Why didn’t I say it?’
After all, his younger sibling had given her an indirect warning. She couldn’t just give away her name. Her partnership with him was for Lydia’s sake.
Had it not been for his sibling, would Sinclair have agreed to be the partner of a poorly reputed unmarried noblewoman?
No, certainly not for someone from a minor family compared to the Tess household.
“I told you now, so it’s fine,” Eleanor shrugged with a faint smile. Sinclair exhaled a frustrated sigh.
He pressed his hand to his forehead, unable to ruin his carefully styled hair. His long eyelashes sparkled like dew.
Eleanor glanced up at him. More than handsome, his face was beautiful, radiant under the evening lights. A face so striking that she felt certain she would never see another like it. She acknowledged Sinclair’s appearance… and Cain’s skill with the sword.
‘Still, he wouldn’t beat Leopold in swordsmanship.’
Eleanor turned her gaze away as the orchestra began warming up for the first song. Sinclair lowered his lashes, looking down at her.
Eleanor Stikov.
His first dance partner.
Sinclair extended his hand, and Eleanor placed hers over his gloved one, guided by the drawling tone of his voice.
They held one hand, the other resting on each other’s shoulder and waist. Close together, the scent of tuberose emanated from Sinclair—floral on a man, a rare perfect match.
“You know how to waltz, right?” he whispered near her ear.
“Of course,” she replied, frowning lightly.
“I hope I don’t step on your feet.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll only aim for your instep,” Eleanor said, half joking.
Sinclair chuckled softly. Eleanor hadn’t seen him smile like this in a long time, and it gave her a strange sensation.
The orchestra began to play. To the clear, romantic melody, they danced in surprisingly good rhythm.
“You dance quite well,” Sinclair said, genuinely impressed as he led her through the steps.
Eleanor fought the urge to stomp on his foot.
“I learned from childhood and have danced many times.”
“I don’t recall seeing you dance before.”
“You weren’t interested in me,” she said bluntly.
Sinclair’s face darkened slightly. His teal eyes, complex and subtle, regarded her.
“You were alone at the academy’s last party, dancing with no one. The debutante ball was the same. How could I have known?”
Eleanor flinched, surprised. ‘How does he know that?’
Indeed, she had danced with no one at those events, except for her first fiancé.
“How do you know?” she asked.
“Apparently, I was more interested in you than you thought,” he said, a faint tilt of his lips.
He pulled her waist, tilting her forward. Eleanor froze, her nose almost touching his, then quickly recoiled.
“You’re not as confident in waltzing as you are in your arrogance,” she thought, quietly annoyed.
Suppressing her inner curses, Eleanor continued to dance with him.
As the first piece, which felt endlessly long, ended, they slipped through the crowd into the garden. They moved quickly, wary of Ilya appearing.
The moonlight revealed a bench. Eleanor approached it, cheeks flushed from dancing.
“Sit here,” Sinclair said casually.
Eleanor stopped, looking at him. The sheen of his face glimmered against the starry night sky.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To Lydia,” he replied with a clear purpose.
Eleanor nodded silently. The night air cooled her flushed cheeks. ‘Of course, he’s going to Lydia.’
“Alright. Go ahead,” she said.
Sinclair returned to the ballroom. Eleanor, now alone, sat on the bench. Standing all this time, she felt a shiver of fatigue in her legs.
She looked up at the sky, recalling the moons she often watched from the Oklama castle garden. The moon had hung large and close, as if gazing down.
Bairn’s moon was only half-full, fragile, and dim, leaving the surroundings darker.
‘It’s a bit dark.’
Eleanor realized the area near her bench was poorly lit. No lanterns, few people—the silence was near complete, and only her own breathing echoed.
With Sinclair gone, Eleanor was alone in the darkness. Though the castle gardens were secure, a shiver ran down her spine. She instinctively held her arm.
Then, the rustling of leaves reached her ears—someone stepping on the grass.
Eleanor sprang to her feet, eyes alert, though she had no weapons.
The dark foliage swayed unnaturally. Eleanor cautiously stepped back, imagining Ilya emerging.
“…!”
A shadow appeared from the bushes. Eleanor froze, eyes wide as someone approached her.
“Milady Stikov.”
