Chapter 21
Dominic let out a soft chuckle and tilted his head toward the carriage window. Elaine glanced at him with faint indignation. He’s the one who left me looking like a mess—and yet he’s sitting there, perfectly composed, smiling like nothing happened.
“Really…”
She was about to mutter a small protest, just as Dominic reached over and swept her up into his arms once more—just like he had when helping her into the carriage. He stepped down with her in his arms, not allowing her feet to touch the ground.
“What were you about to say, my dear Elaine?” he asked with feigned innocence, his voice warm and overly polite.
Elaine, flustered, abandoned the idea of complaining altogether.
“It’s nothing. Just… put me down, Dominic.”
“I did promise,” he said with a smile, “that I wouldn’t let those delicate feet of yours touch the ground.”
“But I’m embarrassed. This is the Aiola estate.”
“And yet the proud Lady Aiola is embarrassed by something so small?”
“I get embarrassed too! A lot! So if you don’t put me down right now, I’ll make you feel just as embarrassed.”
“Oh?” Dominic raised a brow, amused. “And how would you do that?”
As he looked at her with those rich black eyes, Elaine placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him lightly near the corner of his eye. Then she kissed the tip of his nose, and finally his lips—soft and lingering.
One kiss turned into two, then three. Her lips gently played with his, alternating between his upper and lower lip.
You claimed to be embarrassed, Dominic thought, laughing inwardly. Yet here you are, bold as ever. So shameless, my little Aiola.
He tightened his arms around her in mock defiance, ignoring her earlier plea to be put down.
“Hey! Are you being rebellious now, Dominic?”
Elaine laughed, playfully pushing against his chest. It didn’t move him one bit.
“Are you not even a little embarrassed?”
“How could I be,” he said with a sly smile, “when I’ve just received a kiss from the noble Lady Aiola?”
“In that case… would you like a slap from her too?”
She pouted and gave his chest a few light punches with her tiny fists—so soft, they were more like gentle taps.
“Seems our Lady Aiola wasn’t gifted in the art of boxing.”
“I’m just going easy on you,” she replied smugly. “I don’t like hurting you.”
Her voice was sweet and teasing. Dominic chuckled under his breath. And seeing him laugh, Elaine stopped her playful punches and wrapped her arms around his neck instead.
“Come on, let’s go through the back. If someone sees us out here like this…”
She leaned close to his ear and whispered.
But just as she spoke, a familiar presence stirred behind her. Dominic tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking toward the source. Sensing his shift, Elaine turned—and froze.
There stood Vanessa.
“Vanessa…!” Elaine cried out in alarm.
At the same time, Dominic gently released his hold, letting her slip down to the ground. Elaine quickly stepped away and rushed toward her sister, hastily linking their arms as if nothing had happened.
“Oh no, how long have you been out here? Were you waiting for me?”
Vanessa stood in a sheer white shawl over her nightdress, her red hair falling gracefully around her shoulders. But her expression was far from graceful—it was frozen, her face pale and lips trembling.
“Elaine… that man…”
Her voice quivered, something rarely heard from the always-composed Vanessa. She stared at Dominic with open shock, as if she’d just seen a ghost—or something worse.
Elaine’s mind went white.
She saw us. She saw everything.
Vanessa’s eyes were sharp, cold—full of suspicion, as though Dominic were the most disgraceful sort of man.
No… Dominic isn’t like that.
Elaine felt panic rising. She had worked so hard to gain Fernando’s approval for this relationship. If Vanessa opposed it now, everything might fall apart.
Steeling herself, she took a deep breath and forced a smile. She had to make Vanessa understand that Dominic was a good person.
“Vanessa, this is Sir Dominic Cheshire. The one I told you about.”
Elaine gestured between the two. “Dominic, this is my sister, Vanessa.”
Vanessa remained stiff, her arms rigid at her sides. But Dominic—poised and unruffled—inclined his head in an elegant bow.
“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Aiola.”
“…Ah.”
A breath slipped from Vanessa’s lips—delayed, almost involuntary.
Her face, already pale, seemed to lose even more color. And Dominic… Dominic felt a quiet thrill rise within him as he watched it happen.
The southern island of Emilta—once warm, peaceful, and serene.
Dominic had once been a prince of this island kingdom, now long forgotten, its name erased from maps and memory alike.
Without warning, Hermanda’s warships docked at Emilta’s harbor. Soldiers stormed the shores with rifles and blades, laying waste to the tranquil island. The majestic royal palace was consumed by fire, and the king’s severed head was displayed above the city gate.
The commander of this invasion was none other than Edmund Herdian Vert, son of Queen Clemencia of Hermanda. Beloved and powerful, the young prince was only seventeen at the time, already the brightest star of Hermanda’s future.
Dominic was merely ten.
His mother, Queen Amelotte, entrusted him with his younger sister—Lady Liliana, still a small child.
“Dominic, Sir Walker is waiting for you at the southern shore. He will take you away from Emilta—by sea, to safety.”
“But Mother… what about you?”
“Take care of Liliana.”
Queen Amelotte’s gentle blue eyes, always full of warmth, now shone with unyielding resolve as she gazed into her son’s face.
“No one else can protect her now. You must be the one to keep her safe.”
It was the first time Dominic had seen his mother without a smile. It frightened him. Yet he dared not show it. He knew that if he faltered, the girl sobbing beside him—his sister—would be terrified beyond reason.
“There’s no time. Go now. Dominic, Liliana—run.”
“N-No… I don’t want to. Mother, please come with us. I’m scared!”
Lady Liliana clung to the hem of her mother’s dress, crying. Queen Amelotte, unable to steel herself any longer, broke into tears as she tried to soothe her daughter.
Boom!
The ground shook violently. From nearby, the sounds of clashing armor and barking orders thundered closer and louder.
“Dominic—!”
In a panic, the queen rushed to the children and shoved them both into the wardrobe.
“No matter what happens in this room… do not make a sound. Not a single word. Not a single cry.”
Her voice was low and trembling, steeled with dread. But just as she turned to face the door, it burst open—and she collapsed with a sickening thud.
“Well, well…”
Dragging a bloodstained blade across the floor, Prince Edmund entered, smirking as he looked down at the queen sprawled on the ground.
“So, it’s true. The queen of Emilta was a cripple. Still… not a bad face. For a broken woman.”
What followed was a memory that would never fade.
Even after more than a decade, Dominic could not forget the scene.
Hiding in the wardrobe, peeking through a sliver in the doors, he watched helplessly as his mother was beaten and humiliated. He didn’t fully understand what they were doing to her—but he knew, with every part of himself, that it was something vile. Something wicked.
He held Lady Liliana tightly in his arms, shielding her ears, covering her eyes, as she trembled in terror.
Time passed. Long, unbearable time.
Eventually, her sobs quieted, and she fell asleep against his chest.
Then—
Creeaak…
The wardrobe door opened with a grotesque groan.
Dominic inhaled sharply, clutching his sister closer.
“If you don’t want to wake her,” said the calm, almost amused voice, “you’d best come out quietly.”
In the ruined chamber, Prince Edmund sat at a table, sipping lukewarm tea with elegance unfitting the carnage around him. He waved Dominic forward with a lazy flick of the fingers.
Dominic looked at Lady Liliana once, gently laid her down, and stepped out of the wardrobe.
“You don’t look much like the queen.”
At that, Dominic turned his eyes toward his mother’s broken form. Queen Amelotte—her gown torn, her body ruined—lay crumpled on the floor, barely breathing.
