The moment she returned home, Milly pressed her demand upon the household steward. “Let me see father.”
“Pardon?”
“I need to see him right now. Where is he? In his study?”
“Ah, no!” protested the steward. “His Grace only just returned, and at present he is resting.”
Milly frowned. “You’re saying his rest is more important than his daughter?”
Truth be told, knowing her father, he probably would consider his rest far more important than his own daughter. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was that Milly had to see him immediately.
“Enough. I’ll go to him myself.”
“M-My lady! Please, wait!”
The grand duke’s daughter could wait no longer. Leaving the pale-faced servants trailing behind her, Milly hurried up the grand staircase. The grand duke’s bedchamber lay on the third floor of the vast Asteara residence, a suite so large it defied all reason. Just as she reached the landing, the great double doors swung open.
“What is all this commotion?”
From within stepped the master of the house, Kyle Asteara. At the sight of him, the servants at Milly’s back gave little cries of alarm. For Milly, though, his appearance was a stroke of fortune.
“Father. I’ve just returned.”
Kyle raised a brow at her poised, unflinching manner, as though she were some unfamiliar curio. “When did you become a daughter who cannot keep quiet under her own roof?”
“I need to speak with you.” She had no time for his questions. Every moment counted. She had to make him listen.
It was the first proper exchange of words they had shared since time had turned back, since she had begged him to protect her and he had flatly refused. From then on, Milly resolved to live by her own strength. But now, at last, she had come to realize the truth: Her strength alone was not enough.
She could not hope to stand against the threats closing in on her. So, what choice remained? The answer was simple. She must once again secure her father’s protection.
Kyle grimaced. “In this state, when I’m already worn to the bone, you would have me waste what little time I have left to listen to the likes of you?”
“Yes.”
The air tightened. Not a single servant dared breathe. Amid that heavy silence, Milly nodded without hesitation.
Kyle turned on his heel. “Very well. Come in.”
“Y-Your Grace!” a servant protested.
“You lot stay out here. Your footsteps are loud enough to keep a man from sleeping.”
At those words, Milly strode boldly into the grand duke’s bedchamber, which she had not entered in ten years. The stark, barren space was unchanged, save for a small table, upon which rested something unusual: a novel.
“Father, you read novels?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Kyle closed the door behind him. “Surprised?”
“I thought you despised stories without substance.”
“I do. Reading it was enough to make me sick.” He chuckled low in his throat and sank into the sofa.
Then why bother reading it? But there was no need to ask him that. She knew perfectly well what retort he would give.
“So,” he said dryly. “What is it you want? You have five minutes.”
Five minutes. For Kyle, that was generous.
Milly quickly sorted the key points in her mind, cleared her throat, and said, “Today, there was a tea party held at the Grandor Academy of Magic.”
“That academy’s fondness for frivolous, unproductive events hasn’t changed, I see.”
So much for “five minutes.” He interrupted at once, and Milly had to grit her teeth to keep from frowning. “Yes. And I need to tell you about something that happened during the event.”
“Speak.”
“Poison was discovered at my table.”
At once, a crease cut deep between Kyle’s brows. His expression hardened in visible distaste. “Poison?”
“Yes. One of my classmates was the victim.”
“Oh? And here I thought you had no classmates to call a friend.”
“That is not the point. The one behind the poisoning was a daughter of the Grey family.”
Kyle’s brow furrowed still deeper. Then he gave a sharp, derisive snort. “The Greys. I have never liked that house.”
“Because they are not among the so-called pro-Asteara faction?”
“Well, well. When did you learn an expression like that?”
Just earlier, in truth. Gilbert had explained to her that the Grey family was not aligned with the grand duke’s house but rather counted among the nobles who opposed and criticized it.
But this was not the time to wander into politics. Glancing at the clock, Milly pressed on. “So then, the culprit, Angelina Grey, who styles herself a ‘villainess,’ apparently holds a grudge against me far deeper than I realized.”
A grudge strong enough to kill. Even with time rewound, her obsession with harming Milly was beyond ordinary hatred.
“I see. And? You expect me to kill her for you?”
“No. I don’t intend to make it into a scandal. Which is why, father...” Milly broke off, drawing in a quiet breath.
It would be simple to raise the alarm, to demand her father denounce the Grey house. But that would betray her promise to Nicholas, who wanted the affair to be kept quiet. In spite of that, she needed protection. She could not afford otherwise.
Thus, she turned to the one person who bore the realm’s sole title of grand duke.
“Please protect me.” The words were clear, unflinching.
For a moment, Kyle was struck silent. Perhaps he recalled how, only recently, he had cut down that very same plea without hesitation.
Kyle Asteara had not become grand duke merely by inheritance. He had earned it through sheer might. The true pillars of his authority were based on his mastery of magic and how he shaped his ideals into reality.