In a luxuriously decorated chamber, heavy with the scent of herbs and jasmine incense, a woman lounged gracefully on a velvet sofa. She took slow, deliberate sips from a porcelain cup filled with fragrant tea, the steam curling around her red, amber-like eyes.
Those eyes were locked—unwavering—on the figure standing opposite her.
Tracy stood tall in her light armor, her sword still strapped to her waist. Her short hair was unkempt, her scarred face tilted downward. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, her chin trembling ever so slightly. Her hands were clenched at her sides, and her eyes—normally fierce—shimmered with barely restrained emotion.
"What had gotten into you ?" Seraphine asked, her voice calm and measured. She set her cup down gently. "Acting so arrogant in front of a noble. If you'd pulled that stunt with a Duke, your head would've been rolling before the second sentence."
She spoke casually, but her gaze was anything but. It pierced into Tracy's skull with terrifying precision.
Tracy's voice faltered. "The marriage… is already set in stone. So I just… I thought I'd test him. I wanted to see how he reacts. I assumed he wouldn't dare go too far, not with me being your personal knight. But…"
She looked away, ashamed. Her voice grew bitter.
"…who knew he had such a twisted mind."
Humiliation burned hot in Tracy's chest.
She had wanted to test Jack—evaluate the man destined to marry her lady, to judge whether he was worthy of loyalty. Whether he was of any use at all.
Instead, she had been outplayed.
Thoroughly.
The moment Jack had turned the scene into a farce—first threatening her with a hundred lashes, then waving it off with a smile—it had all spiraled out of her control. He had forgiven her, but with such infuriating grace that it felt more like a slap than mercy.
And worse, he had used her—used her—as a mirror to probe Seraphine's heart.
He flirted shamelessly all the way to the guest chambers, calling her every ridiculous name under the sun. But behind the humor, every word, every jab, was a carefully laid trap—each compliment to Tracy laced with implications aimed at Seraphine.
'That sick bastard,' she thought bitterly.
Seraphine watched her quietly.
She had never seen Tracy like this.
The proud, reckless knight—always loud, always unbending, careless of others' judgments—was now reduced to silence and shame. And Jack… that boy hadn't even said anything cruel. Not directly.
No, he'd done something far worse.
With every smile, every teasing word, he'd peeled Tracy apart without drawing a single blade.
And yet…
Seraphine sipped her tea again, a faint smile playing on her lips.
It was good news.
The more dangerous Jack proved to be, the more useful he would become.
And usefulness was all that mattered.
__
Back in his study, Jack sat with a book resting on his lap, his eyes trailing the lines of a well-worn page. He was completely absorbed, letting the words draw him into a world far removed from politics and manipulation. After the mental gymnastics he'd performed at the manor gates, this was the only thing that truly soothed his mind—reading.
The study was quiet. Warm. Tranquil.
That peace didn't last.
A loud knock shattered the stillness.
Jack didn't look up. He didn't need to.
"Come in," he said calmly.
The door burst open, and in stormed Garren, his boots heavy on the polished floor. His nostrils flared, his jaw tight with fury, and his eyes—those disciplined, soldier's eyes—bore into Jack's with raw intensity.
"How could you let her go so easily?" Garren demanded, his voice hot and bitter. "You had her right where you wanted. Even if you had gone through with the punishment—no one would've objected."
Jack gently closed his book, lifting his gaze to his knight-captain.
"I could have ordered a hundred lashes and no one would have stopped me," he said, voice level, almost weary. "But then what? I'm not my father, Garren. He holds an official title—a Duke. I don't. The title of 'Count' I carry has no real authority beyond the Duchy's borders. And do you really think Her Highness is someone to be trifled with?"
His voice turned colder.
"She would have responded. Maybe not with swords, but certainly with politics. And even if she hadn't, I'd have destroyed whatever goodwill might've existed between us."
Garren's fists clenched at his sides. "Forgive me, my lord," he said through gritted teeth, "but everything you just said sounds like an excuse."
Jack raised an eyebrow, but Garren went on.
"For a knight, his lord is everything. If you're respected, I'm respected. But if you're humiliated, insulted, dismissed—that's a blow to my pride. And today, you had her on her knees. When you declared her punishment, I was proud. But when you brushed it off like a joke…" He shook his head. "It felt like betrayal."
Jack remained silent for a moment, studying the man who stood before him.
"I know you're not loyal to me, Garren," he said finally, opening his book again and lazily flipping through the pages until he reached the one he'd left off on. "Your loyalty lies with my father. With the Duke."
He rested a hand on the paper and looked up once more, voice calm but firm.
"You think my decision was disappointing. Maybe it was. But unlike you, I'm not arrogant enough to challenge the power of the royal family."
His red eyes narrowed, glinting with something dangerous.
"Not yet."
Garren left, closing the door behind him with a heavy thud. Silence returned to the study once more—but it no longer brought peace.
Jack stared at the open book in his hands, but the words had turned to meaningless ink. He flipped a page, then another, before finally setting the book aside. His mind was no longer in it.
His thoughts had begun to spiral.
He'd tried to probe Princess Seraphine through her knight, using Tracy as the bait. But it had been a fruitless attempt. The princess barely reacted—just a few polite chuckles at his layered jokes, her expression unreadable. Either she hadn't caught the deeper meanings in his words… or she had, and simply chose to ignore them.
Jack believed it was the latter.
And that worried him.
Tracy might seem brash and reckless on the surface, but Seraphine surely knew her knight better than anyone. She must have anticipated how Tracy would act when provoked. Which meant… the entire exchange might have been orchestrated. A test, yes—but not by Tracy alone.
A few days ago, he'd received a message from the Duke: the princess had left the royal palace of her own volition, following an argument with the king. But Jack wasn't naïve enough to believe it was as simple as that.
The king had kept her locked away from the world for years. She was valuable to him—too valuable. Would he really let her leave, just like that? If he did… why? What had changed?
And why here?
Why come to Greenriver Manor?
It wasn't to get to know her "future fiancé." That much Jack was sure of.
'Technically, I'm not even her fiancé. There's no official engagement yet,' he reminded himself.
But then again…
The royal family's hand had been involved in two major incidents recently:
First, the matter in the Duchy—that bloody night during the festival.
Second, the sudden marriage proposal.
And now, the princess herself had come to his doorstep.
Jack leaned back, eyes narrowing at the ceiling as if it held answers.
What's happening? What is the king plotting?
Is Seraphine his pawn—or is she moving on her own?
The fact that she had come herself, instead of sending a letter or a proxy, was telling. She was here to test him. And that, in itself, was proof enough.
They didn't think highly of him.
They were wary of his father, yes—but not of him.
And in their eyes, that made him vulnerable.
Jack's jaw tensed.
Then they're making a mistake.