Running away from home. She had never once imagined such a thing. Having never set foot outside the estate in her entire life except to go to the convent, how on earth had she managed to pull it off? And stealing Cecilia’s money on top of it all.

No matter how sudden the marriage announcement had been, the marquis never could have imagined that Eliana, of all people, would do something so reckless. He smoothed out the crumpled marriage vow with a rigid expression.

Tristan Carlisle. Beneath the duke’s signature, scrawled in sharp, slashing strokes, the space where Eliana’s signature should have been sat empty.

He was pressing his fingers against his throbbing temples when the office door suddenly flew open.

“Father! Where is she? How dare she touch my things?”

Cecilia burst in, her irritation sharp and unrestrained.

“Cecile. Did your governess not teach you to knock?”

“That’s not what matters right now! She stole my money!”

Cecilia fumed, her face as red as her hair. Behind her, Marchioness Melissa Croud entered the office with measured, graceful steps.

“I heard she went to do her convent service and never came back. Is that true, Roger?”

Her voice was sharp but carried little emotion, and the Marquis of Croud felt a shudder run through him.

“We’re looking into it now. Since there’s been no word yet, go ahead and have dinner without me. I’ll need to stay in the office.”

The marquis ran a hand back through his slightly disheveled hair.

“And Cecile, why do you need an emergency fund in the first place? If your allowance isn’t enough, spend less. And if it’s money you can’t account for, don’t spend it at all.”

“Why are you bringing that up now! The one who stole is that bi—”

“Cecilia.”

Melissa cut her daughter off with a stern look.

“No crude language. Go to your room first. I need to speak with your father.”

Scolded by both parents, Cecilia pouted with an expression of deep grievance and left the office. The marquis let out a small, weary sigh and poured brandy into an empty glass. A bittersweet fragrance drifted softly through the air.

“You said you had something to say to me. What is it?”

His tone and expression were somewhat sharp, but Melissa seemed unfazed, long accustomed to his manner.

“Are you truly going to marry that girl off to Duke Carlisle?”

The marquis narrowed his eyes at his wife. Melissa wore an inscrutable expression, and he found that unreadable look of hers utterly insufferable.

“I already told you. Why are you asking again? Say what you mean directly, madam.”

“Very well, then. I’m curious why you’ve suddenly taken an interest in her affairs. It can’t be what the servants whisper about, that you’re selling her off to a man like that just to get a duke for a son-in-law.”

“The Croud family has no need of anything of the sort.”

The marquis gave a scornful laugh, as though the question weren’t worth answering.

“Exactly. So if it isn’t that, why send a girl you’ve neglected for over ten years to a ducal house? Wasn’t this match your doing? How else would the lord of Carlisle, from so far away, even know to propose to her? A girl who has never once set foot in society?”

The word “neglected” sharpened the marquis’s gaze.

“I’ll say it again. The proposal came from the duke’s side. How he knew of Eliana, I couldn’t tell you. And she does need to find a suitable match at some point.”

“Ha.”

The blunt, open scoff made the marquis’s face darken immediately.

“So you do think of her as your own blood, after all? You brought her here, locked her away like a bird in a cage, and kept her hidden from the world. Ah, I suppose she’s too shameful to show others, being a bastard, but you couldn’t bear to let her grow old and die alone either.”

Unable to contain his fury at Melissa’s taunting, the marquis hurled his glass at the wall.

“Watch your mouth, madam. I have never once said that girl is my blood. Get out. I don’t want to exchange another word with you right now.”

Melissa looked at the shattered crystal on the wall, then turned her back.

“No one in this estate thinks she’s an adopted child, Roger. No one but you. In any case, I have no complaints if she disappears from my sight. Whether that’s by running away or by marriage.”

With those words, the office fell silent again. The Marquis of Croud dropped into his chair and clenched his fist until the blood drained from his knuckles, then slowly let go.

‘A bastard. Yes, if only she truly were a bastard. How much easier it would be if she were my blood.’

The marquis stared out the window, where darkness had already begun to settle thickly.

* * *

“We’ll stay here for the night.”

Pito stopped in front of an inn that looked to have stood for quite some time and held the door open for Eli to go in first.

The moment she stepped inside, the sharp smell of rum hit her. Despite it being barely early evening, people were already deep in their cups, each one talking over the others at the top of their lungs. It was nothing like the square, which had been so deserted it felt almost eerie.

Eli stood frozen in the doorway, flinching without meaning to, until Pito cleared his throat behind her and she made herself move.

“You’re probably not used to places like this, but try not to show it. It won’t do you any good. Let’s eat something first.”

She wanted to say it wasn’t just unfamiliar, it was her first time in a place like this, but Eli said nothing and followed Pito to a table. He ordered a few dishes without any fuss, and the curious glances from the other patrons gradually fell away.

“So, where do we go tomorrow?”

Eliana asked once she had grown somewhat accustomed to the noise. Having received no detailed explanation from Bron, she knew nothing beyond her final destination.

“We leave for the port of Azulen before dawn and board a ship. From there, we sail to Seren Island, where the Serafiano Convent is.”

The Serafiano Convent. Eliana drew a sharp breath at the name.

“Will they really take me in at the Serafiano Convent with just a letter of recommendation?”

“A letter of recommendation?”

Pito repeated it back with an expression that said he was hearing this for the first time, and Eli pulled the letter Bron had written from inside her coat. The man looked over the crumpled document and gave a small laugh, answering with a shrug.

“Well, if Bron said so, then I suppose that’s how it is. What do I know.”

Eli shrank a little, wondering if she had come across as too desperate.

The food Pito had ordered soon arrived. The dishes, unlike anything she had ever seen, smelled decent enough, but after a full day of tension and anxiety, she had no appetite at all.

“Fair warning: we’ll be traveling on a supply ship headed for the convent. I’m on the crew manifest, so it’s fine for me, but you’re not, which means you won’t be able to move around freely on board. In other words, this is your last proper meal for a while. Eat some soup, at least.”

Eli gave a small nod and picked at the soup. Her appetite stirred a little as she ate, but she set down her spoon quickly, worried that eating too much in an unfamiliar place might upset her stomach.

Pito watched her with a look of mild disapproval, then called the innkeeper over.

“Go on up when you’re done. Give her that key and she’ll show you to your room.”

Eli took the key with the room number on it and followed the innkeeper up to the second floor where the guest rooms were.

The room she was shown to held nothing but an old bed and a wardrobe far too large for the cramped space. The bed sheets smelled of stale cheese, and the mattress sagged so deeply in the middle that even Eliana, small as she was, perching lightly on the edge made it creak loudly.

She let out a small sigh and opened the window to air the room out. The faint smell of rain-soaked earth drifted in. The night air had grown quite cold with the arrival of autumn, and it cut sharply across her cheeks.

For reasons she couldn’t quite name, Eliana felt her heart grow unsettled. She closed her eyes and turned over the events of the past few days.

* * *

A few days earlier, her father had summoned her to the study without warning. She had carefully asked the butler who came to fetch her whether he knew what it was about, but he only shook his head in silence.

The study at the Croud estate was a separate room built within the office, a space the marquis allowed almost no one else to enter.

‘What could he possibly want all of a sudden…’

It was rare for her father to call for her at all. Rare was putting it generously. He was a man who had never shown the slightest interest in what she did or how she was getting on.

The study’s wooden door, not especially thick, felt like a massive stone wall.

Knock, knock.

“Come in.”