321: Doesn't Concern You?

Doesn't Concern You?

Oriana continued her stride, each step carrying her forward into the night.2

Beneath the velvety embrace of the starlit expanse, a serene lake glimmered, bathed in the tender luminescence of the moon's silvery touch. Towering trees encircled the water's edge, their leaves whispering hushed secrets in the cool breeze, which carried with it the faint fragrance of blossoms.

A delicate mist hovered above the water's surface, lending an otherworldly aura to the scene. Amidst this tableau, a dashing man, garbed in an effortlessly stylish ensemble, stood poised and confident. His silhouette melded seamlessly with the serene backdrop of the water. A sense of innate elegance radiated from his bearing, a testament to his self-assured nature. His hair danced gently in the breeze, bestowing a touch of untamed allure to his otherwise composed demeanor.

The man exuded a magnetic charm, a quiet intensity that the moonlight, in its gentle radiance, seemed to amplify. His countenance boasted chiseled features and a strong jawline. The moon's glow played artfully with the angles of his face, casting soft shadows that accentuated his masculine contours. His eyes, profound and penetrating, mirrored the lake's shimmering depths, hinting at enigma and complexity.

Thump, thump.

At the sight of him, Oriana's heart fluttered momentarily. She inhaled deeply, willing herself to regain composure.

'Don't let him overpower you today. Maintain your stance.'

She approached Arlan, positioning herself to face him, a respectful nod accompanying her lowered head. "Greetings, Your Highness."

Arlan's gaze lingered on her, a silence enveloping them as if he sought to absorb her presence entirely. The rhythm of her heartbeat did not escape him.

In response to his quietude, she lifted her head, meeting his gaze. Beneath the night's embrace, beneath the stars, he stood magnificently handsome, prompting her to wonder, once more, at his allure. It was as if the universe had invested its efforts into crafting this singular masterpiece, designed to captivate any onlooker.

"It's a pleasure to see you here, Lady Ria," he finally broke the silence, his eyes holding a tender affection.

Though Oriana understood that this tenderness was meant for the mask she wore—a facade named Lady Ria—she couldn't help but contemplate if he'd regard her the same way without the veiled pretense, as the humble servant she truly was.

"Likewise, Your Highness," she murmured, her gaze retreating momentarily.

Arlan's scrutiny persisted. 'She acts tough when defending Lady Ria, yet now, she seems so fragile and submissive. How many facets does this woman carry?'

Time would grant him the opportunity to discern her complexities, yet in this instance, he wished to relish her presence as she stood before him, veiled in the illusion of Lady Ria.

"I've heard you were initially reluctant to meet me," Arlan noted.

While burdened with guilt over her deception, she could only reply, "I apologize, Your Highness. I was..."

"My aide encountered some challenges in conveying messages between us. Oddly enough, that young fellow was trying to defend you, as if you were his master rather than I, Lady Ria."

"Is that so?" She regarded Arlan. "He's a likable young fellow."

A fleeting smile graced Arlan's lips. "You've my agreement."

Oriana found herself slightly taken aback. 'Is he admitting he finds me likable?'

Arlan continued, "He was genuinely defending you when I mentioned you are avoiding me after taking advantage of my body. It appears he holds a rather favorable opinion of you."

Cough! Cough!

A cough disrupted their exchange as Oriana was once again taken aback. 'Taking advantage. This man is delusional.' 

"Are you well, Lady Ria?" Arlan inquired, a step toward her.

She retreated slightly. "I assure you, Your Highness, I am fine... May I inquire as to the reason for Your Highness's desire to meet me?"

"My intention was merely to share more moments in your company," Arlan replied, extending an offer. "Would you care to join me for a walk?"

Given the context of her presence, refusing felt unwarranted. She acquiesced with a nod.

Arlan extended his hand. Her gaze settled on it before she replied, "I'm capable of walking on my own, Your Highness."

"But I, on the other hand, might require assistance while walking in the darkness." His demeanor bore an air of playful insistence. "Won't you lend me your guidance, my Lady?"

Oriana's brow furrowed, his knack for getting his way persisting. She conceded, placing her hand in his. 'This may well be the last instance of such closeness. Indulging him one final time won't harm.'

They strolled along the lakeside path, bathed in the moon's soft glow and the intermittent glow of lamps. The world seemed to adopt an ethereal quality as they walked hand in hand.

The warmth that radiated from his palm enveloped her own cold, delicate hand, invoking a subtle blush. Veiled beneath her disguise, she was thankful that her telltale reaction remained hidden.

Once more, she realized the difference of his treatment—abrasive when she was his aide, tender when she was Lady Ria. The difference was vivid in their interactions throughout the day.

They walked in tranquil silence, content in one another's company. Oriana looked ahead, only to see a beautiful gazebo by the lake side, lit with numerous lamps. She realised they were heading towards it. 

When they reached nearby, Arlan mused aloud, "I wonder when our paths shall cross again, Lady Ria,"

"Our journeys diverge tomorrow, Your Highness," she replied, a hint of resignation in her voice. "Our lives will grow occupied. It's unlikely our paths will intertwine."

"What if I wish otherwise?" Arlan's gaze turned to her.

Her gaze averted. "I'd prefer we revert to being strangers. A return to anonymity seems preferable—let's consider the events of last night's ball a fleeting interlude, a consequence of chance encounters."

His grip tightened in response. Oriana could sense the subtle shift in his demeanor. 'It's for the best.'

"Do you remain fatigued?" Arlan inquired.

She met his gaze. "Do I appear tired?"

"My aide mentioned your weariness after the ball, insinuating you needed rest. I struggle to recall any action on my part warranting such prolonged fatigue."

A blush tinged Oriana's cheeks. "Your Highness, could you refrain from such forthrightness? It was an inadvertent occurrence, a momentary lapse. I'd appreciate it if you'd allow us both to move past it."

"But what if I have no inclination to forget?"

"Then that is beyond my control."

Arlan halted and turned to look at her, his gaze piercing. "Beyond your control?"

"Yes, absolutely," she responded, inching away from him. "And it doesn't concern me either."

Suddenly, a charged atmosphere enveloped them. Oriana moved to withdraw her hand from his, yet he tightened his grip, tugging her closer.

She instinctively pressed her hands against his chest, maintaining a respectful distance. "What are you..."

"Doesn't concern you?" His brows arched, his gaze intense, his voice a blend of coldness and fervor.

She pondered how swiftly his demeanor transformed, from the gentleman to the rogue.

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