Under the Oak Tree - Chapter 221 - Side Story Chapter 27
Does it even matter?
Maximilian Croyso probably could not care less about his whereabouts or who he chose to fool around with. This concern was solely the product of his inflated ego. All the same, his feet continued to take him back to the banquet. He irritably swept back his hair. He hated how he was acting like an agitated stallion that had caught the scent of a mare in heat.
Just as he was about to step out of the dark corridor, a male voice murmured, “Do you think it’s true? About the duke seeking a husband for his daughter among the knights.”
Riftan peered into the hall toward the gossiping noblemen. A bard sang a heroic epic alongside his lute while banquet-goers danced beneath glimmering candlelight. The noblemen appeared to be taking advantage of all the activity to convene a secret discussion. Riftan’s ears pricked at the sluggish, drunken voice that spoke next.
“Is she even of age?”
“She might not look it, but she will be seventeen in a few months. A perfectly marriageable age.”
The immaculately dressed man brought a goblet to his smirking lips.
“And there have been whispers that her recent frequent appearances are to attract suitors.”
“Ha! She did stay a tad longer today, but she’s barely shown her face throughout this whole celebration. Scurried off after a minute on all the other nights.”
“Believe me, she has never made this many appearances before. Do you know how protective His Grace is of his eldest? Even some of his own knights have never laid eyes on her, and the servants refuse to reveal anything. She is a veiled mystery.”
“I heard she is in poor health,” another man chimed in. “His Grace is such a devoted father that he had a large chapel built within the castle and posted four hierarchs there.”
“It appears she has always had a frail constitution,” said the relatively older man, his voice full of sympathy. “Ever since she was young. It’s only made the duke more protective.”
Riftan stiffened as he studied Maximilian Croyso. Still seated beside her father, she looked tired and nervous as she watched the ball.
Was poor health the reason for her morose expression? The thought that she might be seriously ill was enough to make Riftan feel as if he had been stabbed in the heart. He stood frozen as he once again listened in on the hushed voices.
“Supposedly, the duke seeks a knight because he has no intention of sending her to court. After all, with the duchy’s frequent disputes with Dristan, it would be useful having a son-in-law knight to lead an army.”
A knight who had been quietly sipping wine snorted and broke his silence. “You underestimate the duke’s ambitions. No matter how much he dotes on his daughter, his family’s prestige and power always come first. Is it not common knowledge that he wishes to unite his house with the royal family?”
“He might entrust that to his second daughter. She may be a child now, but already there are rumors predicting her future as an accomplished beauty.”
“I suppose marrying off the eldest to the royal family would be difficult considering her condition. She would need to bear healthy sons.”
Riftan clenched his fist as he watched the men appraise Maximilian as if she were a broodmare.
The older man, who looked to be well over thirty, smirked and said, “Indeed it is a major flaw, but she is still the Duke of Croyso’s daughter. That is, worthy bride material. No doubt His Grace’s doting will guarantee she comes with a substantial dowry.”
“What good is a dowry if she cannot produce an heir? If you have no successor, your fortune and estate will revert to the crown.”
“Keep up, my good man. If she is truly as sickly as they say, she will not survive for much longer. You could simply find yourself a new wife once the opportunity arises.”
An overwhelming urge to kill the noblemen surged in Riftan’s chest. He glowered at them, itching to drag the scum to a corner and slit their throats. That would ensure they could never wag their filthy tongues again. It had been challenging enough keeping his anger in check while they assessed her like an animal, but now they had crossed a line. The mere thought of her being the object of these bastards’ desires filled him with rage and fierce protectiveness.
He hated that he felt this way. What was the point of these emotions when she was not even his? Why would she need someone so insignificant to defend her when the most powerful noble in the east was on her side?
Riftan turned his gaze to the duke sitting next to her like a warden. Though the man was pompous to the core, he would no doubt be her greatest protector. It was a wise decision on the duke’s part that he kept his daughter safely inside the castle where scum like these noblemen could not approach her.
Taking a deep breath, Riftan turned away. He had a feeling he would cause a scene if he stepped inside the hall in his current state. His clenched fist trembled with fury. It was hard to think of a better way to release his rage other than committing their faces to memory and knocking out a few of their teeth before he left.
However, he knew they would not be alone in their sordid intentions for long. Once word of the duke’s intentions got out, every ambitious knight in Wedon would flock to the duchy to vie for her hand. What sickened Riftan most was the fact that he himself shared the desire.
He sat on the garden steps and buried his face in his hands. What on earth was wrong with him? Turmoil and longing raged inside him. Yet, now that he knew the banquet was essentially a pool of potential suitors, he found himself unable to leave or return.
Even if I went back, I would never make the list of suitors.
He was certain of it. She was terrified of him, and the duke treated him with contempt. Despite this, he turned toward the hall. Returning to his room now would mean a sleepless night spent worrying that the duke would choose one of the good-for-nothing nobles from earlier. It would be better for his sanity to know exactly what was happening inside the hall.
Hoping that the cheap gossips from earlier had concluded their conversation, Riftan went to return to the banquet once more. He was only a few strides away when he stopped dead. Maximilian Croyso, surrounded by her maidservants, had almost crashed into him as she left the hall.
Had his anger dulled his ability to sense her presence? Riftan stood blinking down like an idiot at the woman standing before him. Meanwhile, Maximilian appeared to be a hundred times more flustered. He was used to her gaze flitting away whenever their eyes met, but now she stood gawking up at him.
Being this close allowed Riftan to study her lush, auburn lashes and silvery gray eyes. The light from the chandelier rippled like gold in her pupils. It reminded him of a winter lake. Her pale cheeks began to turn red — a startlingly enthralling sight — and soon her entire face burned as bright as her hair.
Riftan struggled to open his mouth. “Is there a problem?”
He sounded curt even to his own ears. He silently cursed. After trying for weeks to speak to her, was that the best he could manage?
Maximilian flinched and hastily lowered her head. Then, as though fleeing, she took off before he could say any more. Her maidservants giggled as they hurried after her.
Feeling dejected, Riftan watched her disappear. He could not understand why she had reacted that way. Wondering if something had occurred at the banquet, he pushed through the bustling activity to join his comrades.
“Did something happen while I was gone?”
The group of carousing knights turned their heads toward him. Riftan furrowed his brows at the strange silence. Hebaron, who had been regarding him with wide eyes, broke into a mischievous smile.
“I think we should be the ones asking you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“There are mirrors in every room in this castle. Did you not check your reflection before leaving?”
Riftan raked a hand through his hair, wondering if it was too disheveled.
“Ahh, the very image of seduction,” Hebaron said with a low whistle. “Are you determined to captivate every noblewoman of the east tonight?”
Unable to follow the meaning behind the knight’s jests, Riftan scowled. “What horseshit are you—”
“There’s a rouge stain near your lips,” Ursuline cut in, lowering his goblet.
Riftan flinched. He swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, coming away with a sticky, red substance.
Seeing his bewilderment, Ursuline sighed. “It is a cosmetic used by noblewomen to paint their lips.”
After a moment spent blinking back at the knight, Riftan strode out of the hall and into the nearest room. A groan escaped him as soon as he caught his reflection.
The top two buttons of his shirt were missing, presumably from the woman yanking at his clothes. His hair was a magpie’s nest, and there were smudges of red on his lips, chin, and cheek. Anyone who saw him would think him a shameless rake.
“Goddammit…”
With that, all hope of leaving a good impression on Maximilian evaporated. Riftan’s shoulders slumped in dismay.
***
The Remdragon Knights set out for Drachium the next morning. Riftan gazed at the gradually receding Croyso Castle in relief. He would finally be able to return to his old self.
He was determined to leave behind all the shadows of his past. The illusions of his childhood, the pangs of guilt, the ghastly dreams about his mother he occasionally awakened from drenched in cold sweat — he intended to erase it all and live on as Sir Riftan Calypse.
However, the way the girl constantly came into his head shook his resolve like reeds in the wind. Maximilian Croyso had truly grown into a damned lovely young woman. She plagued his dreams every night, driving him to the brink of insanity.
Since he had never taken an interest in any other woman, he had no one to compare her to. Despite this, he knew with absolute certainty that her petite figure, small features, eyes that hid a thousand emotions, and luscious red hair were exquisitely captivating. It was this knowledge that constantly pricked his nerves like a needle.
