A maiden is expected to marry into nobility to uphold the family name's honour. However, come the night of her wedding, the mysterious dragon shifter she encountered in the forest has other ideas, starting by invading her carriage.
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《· of ignoble hesitance ·》
~°~
The carriage ride home was awfully taciturn; a silence that quenched the thirst of dread. Having left an hour or so ago, mother was suspiciously reticent. Even so, the look of serene relaxing her expression quashed Olivia's thoughts of opposed qualms. Mother seemed. . . cheery. Olivia didn't trust it.
"How was your exchange with the duke's son, daughter?" her mother later queried.
"It was. . . memorable," Olivia answered carefully.
She chose not to question how her mother knew of Serafino's and her conversation. As if there was much conversation to gossip about. Olivia could only theorize that there was more charm used to the extent of Olivia being grateful she was in the garden, far away from it.
"Oh? How so?" Fiona pressed with an interested tone. It was too innocent for Olivia's taste.
The nervous thump in her chest pulled the maiden's gaze up. Her eyes linked with the subtle gaze of her mother—a collectedness cooler than that of an awakening spring. It felt as though Olivia was walking into a snare, regardless of her answer.
"We began by sharing pleasantries before he requested my solitude. There was no conversation to be had, only a dreary silence. It was very uncomfortable."
Fiona pinched her brows. "He didn't utter a word the entire time you spent with him?"
Olivia nodded. "I attempted to make conversation but received silence. I don't think he would've noticed my absence had I taken it."
From the corner of her eye, Olivia caught Tali giving her a questionable side glance. It was only for a second before the maid averted her gaze elsewhere.
Olivia brushed it off; she was merely entertaining the gossip mother desired. It was the course of human nature to add a dramatic flare to the retelling of a story—even if it wasn't entirely accurate. It simply couldn't be helped. Besides, Olivia wasn't the worst flower in the bouquet in question.
"How odd. His father would beg to differ from your experience." Fiona shrugged. "No matter though. Continue."
"Well, he thanked me for accompanying him in silence before he. . . u-uh. . ."
"Before he what? Spit it out, daughter," Fiona huffed impatiently.
Olivia cleared her throat of stutters, though it did little to nothing to calm the butterflies welling in her stomach. "He offered me a compliment before requesting to share a passion with me. It was rather blunt and unexpected."
Fiona furrowed her brows. "What on earth does that mean? Did he suggest engaging in such activities to make your gown green?"
Olivia grimaced and shook her head reassuringly. "N-No, mother! Nothing of the sort. He merely desired the experience of kissing me. Can you believe such a thing?"
