The lack of oxygen eventually forced them to pull away, both breathing heavily.

Eilika slowly opened her eyes, her gaze searching his. A flicker of anxiety touched her heart; she desperately wanted to know if he had hated her lack of experience.

"How was it?" she asked, the question tumbling out before she could lose her nerve.

"Good," Damian replied, his voice low and steady.

"Really? I’m a novice. You had to practically give me a lesson," she whispered, her cheeks still flushed from the heat of the moment.

"You listened and did well," he assured her, his tone softening. He shifted to lie beside her, a genuine smile returning to his face as he watched her.

Eilika couldn’t hide her own smile. Her first kiss had been more than she ever imagined; for those few seconds, the world outside the wooden house had ceased to exist.

"Joanna said something to me before we came out today," she said suddenly, the memory surfacing in the newfound intimacy of the room.

"What did she say?" Damian asked, turning his head to look at her.

"Consummation," Eilika replied. "She said people were gossiping about us. I told her they do that all the time. And after everything you’ve been through, it just isn’t the right time for any of that."

When Damian remained silent, staring at the ceiling, she felt a prickle of nerves. "Don’t misunderstand me. I only mentioned it so that if anyone brings it up to you, you can tell them we are still getting to know each other."

"Technically, it should have happened the day we were wed," Damian finally said. "I was the one who pushed it away and refused to get involved with you. It can’t happen right away. I don’t think we are ready for it."

He tilted his head to meet her gaze, studying her eyes closely. In the quiet of the small house, he could see the flicker of disappointment she tried to hide. He realized then that she didn’t necessarily agree with him.

He kept the observation to himself, understanding that as his wife, she naturally sought the love and intimacy they had only just begun to touch upon.

~~~~~

"I don’t want to marry the Count’s son," Rosaline stated firmly.

"What? Are you serious, Rosaline?" Susan asked, her expression twisted in shock.

"I want to pursue someone else," Rosaline replied. She finished folding her dress and turned fully toward her mother, who was sitting in a chair, peeling oranges.

"Rosaline, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for someone with no money!" Susan’s face contorted with worry.

"Absolutely not. On Roman’s birthday, I ended up talking to Prince Sylvian. He is soft-spoken and is related to the Duke. As the second son of the King, he holds a rank even higher than Duke Damian," Rosaline answered.

"Are you even serious? Royals don’t marry into families like ours. They find brides from the most powerful noble houses. Besides, Prince Sylvian doesn’t even live here. If your father finds out, he will scold you for even entertaining such thoughts. Now, come here and eat your oranges," Susan told her, dismissing the idea with a wave of her hand.

Rosaline sank into the chair across from her mother, her expression hardening.

"The Duke married Eilika, and even his first wife wasn’t from some prestigious background," Rosaline remarked.

"True. But we aren’t talking about Duke Damian here," Susan countered. "Prince Sylvian is the King’s own son. Why do you think he would even look twice at you? Dear, royals aren’t always what they seem. What if the Prince already has someone else in his heart? You’ll only be hurt when you’re sidelined."

"Unless I try, I won’t know for sure," Rosaline stated, her gaze sharpening with frustration. "I cannot stand the thought of Eilika being seated at a higher position than me, Mother."

"Your situation is entirely different from hers. She was chosen to become the Duke’s wife specifically because he has a son. The Count’s son is a much better choice for you. Your father is trying his best to win the Count’s favor these days," Susan stated, her voice softening as she reached out to take Rosaline’s hands and caress them.

"Even if Prince Sylvian were to fall in love with you, he would not marry you. That is the royal protocol. You don’t understand how the palace and the royalty operate. What we dream is rarely what we receive when they are involved. What would you do then? Have you forgotten the King’s history? He had a lover who bore him an illegitimate son, and look what happened to her. She is dead. No one knows exactly what became of her."

Hearing her mother’s words, Rosaline didn’t argue further. It was a cold truth that love held no place when one sought to enter the palace. It was all about the family you were born into, and only the highest noble houses were ever considered for bride selection.

"I understand, Mother. But Prince Sylvian is exactly the kind of man I’ve always imagined for myself," Rosaline murmured. She reached for the plate, picking up the orange slices and eating them one by one, her mind clearly elsewhere.

"The Count’s son is hardly a step down," Susan countered. "He is quite popular among the young ladies of the court. Don’t forget there is a party tomorrow. You must dress exceptionally well; make sure you are the only one he has eyes for."

Rosaline gave a noncommittal hum, a small frown creasing her forehead. As she chewed, a different plan began to take shape in her mind.

’What if I ask Eilika for help?’ she wondered. ’As the Duchess, she surely has the connections. She wouldn’t refuse to arrange a meeting between me and the Prince, would she?’

But then, reality set in. She had caused Eilika so much grief in the past that the idea of her sister offering any help seemed unlikely. She knew she would have to mend those bridges first if she wanted access to the Duke’s social circle.

"Mother, I am going to see Eilika," Rosaline urged, standing up with newfound purpose. "Please pack some of that handmade food she likes. I shouldn’t go empty-handed."