The next morning began. Lilith had agreed to join Rafael for breakfast in the east courtyard. It was a small gesture, but it felt like progress to their mending. The table was set with fresh fruit, warm bread, and jasmine tea. Sunlight filtered through the vines overhead, dappling the stone with gold.
She arrived just after sunrise, her steps light, her expression neither thrilled nor uncomfortable. Rafael stood as she approached, pulling out her chair with a quiet smile.
"Good morning," he greeted with a warm smile.
Lilith nodded, settling into the seat. "It's peaceful here." She said softly. Rafael smiled in return and moved to pour her tea.
They ate in companionable silence, it was not awkward, nor did the atmosphere demand a conversation. But as the meal wound down, Rafael reached into his coat and placed a folded parchment on the table.
"I wanted to show you this," he said. "It's a draft of the public statement…About the alliance."
Lilith's fingers hesitated over the edge of the paper. "You're announcing it?" Her expression went cold.
"We need to," Rafael spoke softly as he could. "The families are watching us like vultures."
The Alaric Family's influence only amplified the speculations and multiplied spectators. It was no doubt that other clans grew bolder, wanting to humble the Alaric.
She unfolded the parchment slowly, scanning the words. Her name was right there at the center—elevated. But so was the implication: that she was stepping into power. That she was his partner—and it was a marriage she had never agreed to.
Her stomach tightened. "You wrote this without me," Lilith frowned. She glanced at Rafael confused and unapproving.
Rafael blinked. "I thought it would save time. We can revise it together."
Lilith folded the paper again, harshly this time. "You didn't ask if I wanted to be announced—and now marriage?"
"I assumed—" Before he could continue, Lilith cut him off. "That's exactly the problem!" she cut in.
Rafael leaned back, the warmth in his expression cooling. "I thought we were building something. I thought this was part of it." He'd reason.
"You're getting way ahead of yourself," she said with anger waiting to erupt the more they talk.
He frowned. "I'm sure you have something to suggest, then? If not a consort, then what?" He couldn't grasp what exactly she wanted—but still tried to be as understanding as his patience could ever allow.
Lilith stood, the chair scraping softly against the stone. "You want us to marry, and I'm still figuring out what I want,"
Rafael rose too, slower. "You said you wanted to start small."
"I did," she said. "Breakfast. Quiet. But you proposed marriage the moment I finally agreed to your pleas?"
He exhaled, steadying himself. "I'm trying to protect you."
Practically, Lilith didn't have the Alaric name attached to hers just yet. Although she was clearly favored by majority and even by Rafael—the head himself, she could be taken away by the Marchesi any time they wanted.
"I don't need any more of this," she said. "I need space. Excuse me."
The words hung between them, heavier than they should have been.
Rafael nodded slowly.
Lilith turned away, her hands clenched at her sides. She hadn't meant to lash out. But the parchment had felt like an invitation to prison.
She walked the garden path alone, the jasmine brushing her fingertips. Her heart ached—not from anger, but from fear. The thought of marriage had brought her enough misfortune.
Later that day, she found the parchment again—left on her desk, seemingly untouched. A note beside it, in Rafael's handwriting:
"I'm sorry. No statement will be made until you're ready."
Lilith stared at the words, her breathing hitched—tears gathered in her eyes.
It was clear that he still wanted to push through marriage, but he'd paused the idea. That was something she didn't expect from Rafael Alaric. And that, more than anything, made her question the walls she kept building.
She folded the note gently, placing it in the drawer. She wasn't ready to be seen by the world just yet—the elders were already a handful to deal with.
But maybe—just maybe—she was ready to be seen by him?
Lilith stood at the edge of the courtyard, arms crossed, watching the staff clear the breakfast table. The breeze tugged at the hem of her robe, but she didn't move. Her eyes were fixed on the spot where Rafael had sat earlier, where the parchment had rested between them like a wedge.
She hadn't spoken to him since. The note he'd left was tucked in her drawer, unread a second time, as she didn't know what to do with it.
It wasn't just the statement that had unsettled her. It was the ease with which he'd made decisions on her behalf.
She turned and walked back inside, her steps slow and dainty. The stone floor was cool beneath her feet. She passed the library, the study, and the hall where the gathering had taken place. Each room held memories of choices she hadn't made, roles she hadn't asked for.
In the training hall, Rafael was alone, working through a series of strikes with a short blade. His movements were precise, shoulders tense, jaw set. He didn't notice her at first.
Lilith stepped inside, arms still folded. "You're early."
Rafael paused mid-motion, lowering the blade. "Couldn't sleep," he replied.
She nodded, staying near the doorway. "You didn't need to leave the note."
"I did," he said, wiping sweat from his brow. "You were upset."
"I still am," Lilith spoke without hesitation.
He set the blade aside and turned to face her. "I'm sorry—I thought I was helping…"
Lilith stepped forward, her voice steady, and her expression resolute. "You were deciding for me…that wasn't helpful at all, Rafael."
Rafael's expression tightened. "I didn't mean to."
"I know," she said. "But it's not the first time." She breathed as calmly as she could. She felt anger and nervousness rising as she spoke.
"Once was a mistake, twice is a coincidence, the third is habitual."
He looked away, his jaw clenched.
"I see you're trying to protect me," she said. "But the title 'wife' is something I'm not fond of."
Rafael crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "I'll... try to understand."
"You won't," she replied. She strode a few steps to get close to him—her wave of emotions slowly vanishing. "Let's finish other matters first."
He nodded slowly, absorbing her words. "Will you accept me then?"
Lilith stepped closer, her tone softening. "I need time. I need to feel like I'm choosing this—not being placed in it." She says as she reaches for his face, brushing the stray locks on his forehead.
Rafael looked at her, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Then we slow down."
She nodded. "We start with us. Not what looks good on paper."
He reached for the towel on the bench, wiping his hands. "We're not announcing it then."
Lilith hesitated, then stepped beside him. "Just so you know! I'm not walking away. I just need to walk at my own pace…" her tone now loosened from the seriousness.
Rafael met her eyes, the corner of his lips curved to a small smile. "I'll match it."
They stood in silence, the training hall quiet around them. No butler, no maids, no interruptions. Just two people trying to figure out how to move forward without stepping on each other's boundaries.
Lilith picked up a practice blade from the rack and turned to him. "Show me the sequence again."
Rafael smiled faintly, lifting his own blade. "From the top?"
She faintly smiled and nodded. "From the top."