Flame was lathered with sweat and breathing hard by the time Isla rode him through the open gates of the Montgomery estate. It was long past midnight.
The main house was brightly lit, a stark contrast to the welcoming darkness that usually enveloped it. A sudden surge of nervousness befell Isla. It was rare for the estate to still be lit up.
She slid off the stallion's back in the stable yard. Gareth, the groom, rushed forward, his eyes wide with relief and terror.
"My Lady! Thank the gods! Your mother has been distraught! The Duke—"
"Quiet, Gareth. Take Flame," Isla ordered, though her voice lacked its usual commanding sting.
The fear she'd felt in Oakhaven still clung to her, a cold knot in her stomach, and the image of Alek's intense amethyst eyes was burned into her memory.
She barely reached the back entrance before a figure emerged from the shadows of the doorway. It wasn't the Duchess. It was her father
He was fully dressed, but his attire was rumpled, his hair messy, and his emerald eyes were not blazing with simple frustration as they had at dinner; they were dark, volatile, and brimming with a terrifying mixture of rage and relief.
"Where. Have. You. Been?" The Duke's voice was low, strained, and far more dangerous than his earlier shout.
Isla tried to pull herself up to her full height, regaining the confidence she'd left back in the tavern.
"I went for a ride, Father. I needed time to clear my head, and I told Gareth—"
"Silence!" The Duke took a single, slow step toward her. "You took your temper, saddled a prize stallion, and galloped off into the night without a single guard, without an escort, without telling anyone your actual destination!"
His hand shook slightly as he gestured toward her. "Look at you! You look like a street urchin! Your riding cloak is torn, and you reek of cheap ale and town smoke! Do you have any idea the danger you placed yourself in? What happens if you had been hurt? What happens if you had been taken?"
He wasn't yelling, but the contained fury radiating off him made Isla tremble. This was not the typical, dismissive anger of a busy father dealing with a spoiled child. This was the raw fear of a powerful man who realized his influence did not extend beyond his own estate walls.
"The thought that you were out there, alone, vulnerable, because of your goddamned selfish temper... it worried your mother sick, and it sent me into a blind panic!" He ran his hand over his face, his exhaustion finally overriding his anger.
"You are nearly twenty years old, Isla, yet you behave with the recklessness of a frightened child. This is no game! The world does not bend to your will!"
Isla flinched. Alek's words, so recently delivered, echoed in the Duke's accusation: The world does not bend to your will.
"I was fine, Father," Isla mumbled, her bravado completely gone. "I met someone who helped me, and I was safe."
"Helped you?" The Duke's voice snapped back to life, infused with suspicion. "Who? Did you ride into Oakhaven? Did you actually stoop so low as to enter one of those filthy town taverns?"
Isla didn't answer, biting her lip.
The Duke didn't need confirmation. He looked at her rumpled appearance, the faint odor of whiskey, and the sudden fear in her eyes. The reality of what could have happened—the tarnishing of the family name, the physical harm—was enough to break his restraint.
"You have gone too far, Isla," he stated, his voice heavy with finality. "I have indulged your tantrums and your selfishness for too long, and tonight, you endangered everything for a fit of pique."
He stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. "You are confined to your rooms. You will leave them only for essential lessons or supervised, quiet family meals. You will not attend any function, any assembly, or any social gathering for the next three months."
Isla's head shot up. "Three months? But... but the Season is starting! My debut—"
"Your debut is delayed if not canceled altogether" the Duke said simply. "You will not embarrass this house further. Your privilege is a gift of birth, not a right to reckless behavior. You will spend the next three months learning the meaning of restraint and duty, something your sister has mastered."
He stepped back, his eyes heavy with disappointment. "Go to your room. Now. I do not want to see your face again until the morning."
Isla stood there, tears of true frustration and fear finally welling in her eyes. Her debut, the very platform she had planned to use to capture Grand Duke De Cristo, was gone. Her access to the world she believed she was meant to rule was revoked.
She was not just denied the man; she was stripped of the very stage on which she had planned to fight for him.
And for the first time in her life, Isla Montgomery truly felt the hard, unforgiving weight of a "no."