Theo had already sensed the tension brewing between them. Without a word, he stepped up beside Abigel and rested a firm hand on his arm.
"It's not the right time," Theo murmured, his voice low enough to be lost in the music.
Abigel's jaw tightened, but he forced a slow breath, letting Theo's steady grip anchor him. When Theo finally stepped away, Abigel's gaze didn't follow—his eyes stayed locked on Aria.
She was smiling. But not at him.
It was a simple expression, nothing unusual yet it gnawed at him. He had spent years watching her from a distance, content with stolen moments and quiet glances, but lately… they had been closer. Close enough that he couldn't go a day without seeing her. And now, watching her smile at someone else—someone who wasn't him—was unbearable.
Jealousy? The thought coiled like a snake in his chest. Or perhaps it was the reminder that he had always been second in her heart… and he knew exactly who held the first place. He had told himself he could accept it. Lately, that resolve felt paper thin.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and slipped out onto the balcony, escaping the weight of too many eyes and too many thoughts.
The cool night air met him with a gentle breeze. He let it wash over him—until footsteps broke the quiet.
"Young Duke," a voice called softly. Maria.
"I would like to be alone for a while," Abigel said, not turning to face her.
"Oh… I know," she replied lightly. "I just needed fresh air too. The other balcony is occupied."
He said nothing, letting silence answer for him.
Maria stepped closer, but her heel caught on the stone. She pitched forward—straight into Abigel. For the briefest moment, it looked as though they were embracing.
That was the exact moment Aria stepped in.
Her boots stopped just over the threshold. In the flicker of torchlight, her eyes swept over the scene—Maria against Abigel's chest, his hands on her arms to steady her.
Abigel let go instantly, and Maria stumbled to the floor with a small cry.
"Ouch…" she winced, tears pooling in her eyes.
Aria's fists curled at her sides, leather gloves creaking under the strain. Her jaw was set, but her voice, when it came, was perfectly even—too even.
"My apologies," she said coolly. "I didn't know it was occupied."
She stepped back and left without another glance, but the faint click of her boots against the marble came a fraction too fast, as though she were putting distance between herself and something she didn't want to feel.
Inside the ballroom, a few guests near the balcony doors exchanged knowing looks, their whispers lost beneath the music but heavy with speculation.
Maria looked up at Abigel, eyes glistening—not entirely from the fall.
Abigel didn't even glance at the lady still on the ground. She wasn't his priority.
His eyes had already locked onto Aria's retreating figure.
"Aria!" he called after her.
The corridor ahead was quiet—off limits to anyone but the royals—and her bootsteps echoed against the marble.
"You're not allowed in here," she said without looking back, her tone clipped.
He didn't answer. He was already closing the distance, a tiger chasing down a deer.
"Umbrose," Abigel ordered, his voice low.
From the corner of the shadows, his familiar stirred. A wisp of black mist slithered along the walls, snuffing out each torch in its path.
The light vanished.
Aria stopped mid-step. The sudden darkness made her hesitate—and that was all he needed.
In an instant, he was on her, slamming her back against the wall and caging her between his arms. The air between them turned sharp, his breath ghosting along her ear.
"How long are you going to run from me?" His voice was a whisper that felt like a snare tightening around her.
"I don't want to talk to you," Aria said, twisting against his grip, her hands braced against his chest.
"Fine," Abigel murmured. "Then hear me out."
His tone left no space for refusal.
"I didn't do anything. She slipped—fell on me. That's all."Aria knew. Deep down, she knew Abigel wouldn't do something so low. But the image of his hands on Maria still burned behind her eyes, and something inside her had snapped. No one was allowed that close to him.
Not anymore.
Not when she—
Abigel tilted his head, searching her face in the darkness. "Are you… jealous?"She met his gaze head-on, her heartbeat pounding against the cage of his arms.
"Yes," she said, voice steady despite the storm in her chest.
For a moment, the only sound was the quiet thud of his heartbeat—far too close to hers.
Then, slowly, Abigel's lips curved into something dangerous.
"I thought so." His voice was softer now, but there was no gentleness in it—only possession, raw and unfiltered. "You can't stand it… the thought of me looking at anyone else."
Aria swallowed hard, refusing to look away. "I never said that."
"You didn't have to." His hand slid from the wall to her chin, tilting her face up toward him. "I can see it every time you glare at someone who gets too close to me."
Her pulse betrayed her—fast, uneven, and loud enough he could almost hear it.
Abigel leaned in, his forehead brushing hers, the shadows around them curling tighter as if even Umbrose wanted to keep the world out.
She opened her mouth to argue—only to have her words stolen when his lips came down on hers.
It wasn't gentle. It was fierce, desperate, a claim more than a kiss. One of his hands slid into her hair, anchoring her in place as if she might vanish if he let go. She stiffened at first, but her fingers curled into his coat before she could stop herself, holding on like she hated him for making her need him this much.
Abigel pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead still resting against hers, when Aria's hands fisted in his coat and yanked him down again. Her lips found his with more urgency this time—no hesitation, no restraint.
A low sound escaped him, something between a growl and a laugh, before his arms wrapped around her. He lifted her easily, pressing her back into the cold stone wall as if he'd forgotten the concept of letting go.
The shadows thickened again, cloaking them from the world, but the heat between them made it impossible for him to care about anything else. His mouth claimed hers, deeper, hungrier, as if each second apart had been unbearable.
Then—
Footsteps. Voices.
The sharp rhythm of boots on marble echoed down the corridor, followed by a voice. "What happened to the lights?" one knight asked, his tone sharp with suspicion.