LTP 32

Chapter 32

“Are you watching Damia again?”

Cassian Sarkis was having a restless summer at fifteen. His temporary fiancée kept running through his thoughts all day.

“No, I’m not,” he replied.

“Don’t lie. You were stuck by the window, watching at the exact time Damia takes her garden walk with the Marchioness,” Alex, his loyal knight and aide, whispered, trying not to laugh.

“It’s nothing like that,” Cassian said.

“Even when you went to rescue her, you acted like you couldn’t live without her!” Alex teased.

“Shut up! That’s not what I meant!” Cassian scowled.

Cassian explained seriously: the man pretending to be a coachman was targeting Damia. Cassian just kept an eye on him to protect her.

Alex nodded. “He probably wasn’t a pure-blood dragon. A real dragon wouldn’t have run from us. If he could breathe, he could wipe out the whole village. Those rumors about dragon-blooded humans living disguised among people… they weren’t just stories. They call them the Dragon Clan.”

“We need to find them before they grow stronger,” Cassian said.

Alex added, “We also planted someone in Count Fabron’s mansion, just in case. He’s disgusting and must be dealt with for trying to touch your fiancée.”

Cassian’s red eyes darkened with anger, and Alex stifled a smile.

Summer was ending. Damia was dressed for the last tea party hosted by the Marchioness.

She wore a light purple chiffon dress, her silver hair half tied, sparkling with crystal jewelry. She twirled, and the maids squealed in delight.

“Not bad,” she thought, pleased with herself.

When she went out, Cassian leaned against the wall, waiting. He looked sharper and more mature than usual.

“You’re breathtaking today, Marquis,” Damia said.

Cassian only raised his eyebrow.

“My face is perfect, I’m proud of it,” Damia continued, ignoring his silence.

He tried to give her a compliment but struggled to find the words. Finally, he muttered, “It looks like you put effort into it. Not bad…”

“That’s it?” she asked, surprised.

“Well… it’s a compliment,” he said, embarrassed.

Damia gracefully took his arm, and Cassian felt a warmth in his chest. Her laughter and presence made him feel unexpectedly happy.

The Sarkis mansion’s garden was beautiful even in late summer. Damia sipped green grape juice and thought, “When will Cassian die? Not that I want him to, but…”

In her previous life, he died before inheriting the title. Back then, she had been trapped in Count Fabron’s mansion for bride lessons, unaware of the outside world.

Now, she watched Cassian enjoying time with other children her age. She wanted him to survive and become the Duke, but she wondered: when would this temporary engagement end? How long would she stay at the mansion?

“Seems like Miss Drury isn’t here today,” Damia noticed.

“Oh, that’s strange. She usually never misses a party at the mansion,” someone whispered nearby, catching Damia’s attention.