The craftsmanship was exquisite.
The figurine — a dove with half-spread wings, cast in pure silver — gleamed softly in the morning light. Every feather had been rendered in delicate detail, each curve and line shaped with such precision that it seemed the bird might take flight at any moment.
Among the Duke's vast holdings in the North was an archipelago — a cluster of small, inhospitable islands surrounded by jagged reefs and treacherous waters. The rocky formations made landing by boat nearly impossible, and the landscape was bleak and unwelcoming.
The place had earned a whimsical nickname: *Carlisle's Silver Cup.*
Despite the islands' forbidding appearance, their depths concealed significant deposits of silver. Though compared to the staggering variety of minerals found throughout the rest of the Duke's northern territories, the silver reserves were relatively modest.
Hence the name. A cup, not a vault.
Everyone knew about the silver — but for nearly two decades, no Duke of Carlisle had issued orders for full-scale extraction.
The reason was simple: by tradition, the archipelago belonged to the Duchess.
It was her personal property. A kind of dowry in reverse — a prize, a private treasure meant to be hers alone.
But the position of Duchess had remained vacant for twenty years.
And so the mines had lain dormant.
Juliet learned of the archipelago's existence three years after arriving at the northern palace.
---
## — Three Years Earlier —
"Good day, my lady!"
The man who appeared before her was ancient — easily a hundred years old, if appearances were any indication. His clothes were worn and shabby, the rough garments of a common mine worker, patched and faded by decades of use.
As soon as he saw Juliet, he dropped into a deep, reverential bow.
Juliet froze, utterly baffled by the display.
Elliot, who had been escorting her through the palace corridors, rushed forward in a mild panic.
"Please don't take this too seriously," he whispered urgently, leaning close. "The old man is the manager of the archipelago. He insists on greeting the Duchess — the owner of the islands — every time he visits the palace to submit his accounts. Which he does once every decade, like clockwork."
Juliet blinked. "But I'm not—"
"I *know*," Elliot hissed. "His Grace won't even be aware this happened. Last time, the old fool greeted the late Duchess Meryl's *handmaid* by mistake. Just nod politely and let him leave, or he'll stand here until he *dies* waiting for acknowledgment!"
It was the first — and last — time Juliet ever took Elliot's advice on such a matter.
She glanced at the old man's trembling, hopeful face and offered a small, polite nod.
His entire countenance brightened. He let out a joyful laugh and seized her hand with surprising strength.
"My dear lady! I have brought you magnificent gifts today — tokens of my deepest respect! Please, I beg you, accept them!"
Before Juliet could protest, carts began rolling into view from behind him — *carts*, plural, loaded high with gleaming silver objects and elaborate jewelry. Platters, goblets, necklaces dripping with gemstones, bracelets that sparkled like captured starlight.
It was absurd. Overwhelming. Terrifying.
"No — no, this is far too much!" Juliet stammered, waving her hands frantically. "I couldn't possibly—"
It took considerable effort to convince the old man to take most of it back. In the end, she accepted only the smallest item from the very top of the first cart: a delicate figurine of two doves, their wings angled gracefully toward one another.
"I really do like this one," she said earnestly, hoping to soften the refusal. "This will be more than enough."
The old man looked crestfallen at first — but when his gaze fell on the doves, his expression shifted to one of deep satisfaction.
"Ah! The Duchess has a discerning eye indeed!" He nodded vigorously, his voice thick with emotion. "The dove is a symbol of fertility, my lady. Now that our lord has such a gracious wife at his side, this old heart can rest easy. Yes... old Genofy can die without regrets now..."
He continued muttering to himself, growing increasingly maudlin until actual *tears* began streaming down his weathered face.
When he finally departed — still sniffling and dabbing at his eyes — Elliot let out an exasperated groan.
"I'll wager anything that on his next visit, the old bastard will *still* be alive."
---
After the commotion subsided, Juliet found herself alone in the hall, turning the figurine over in her hands.
The two silver doves were exquisite — but now that she examined them more closely, she noticed something odd. One of the birds had its wings spread slightly wider than the other, and their shapes were subtly different.
*They were made separately,* she realized. *Then joined together.*
Curious, she traced her fingers along the seam where the two pieces met. There was a small groove there — almost invisible. She pressed gently.
*Click.*
The doves snapped into place, their wings now angled perfectly to form a single, harmonious composition. Juliet smiled to herself. They looked rather charming like this — two birds caught mid-flight, forever reaching toward one another.
Then she felt it.
The weight of a gaze.
She looked up sharply — and froze.
Lennox stood in the doorway of his study, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed, watching her.
*How long has he been standing there?*
Juliet's hands moved on instinct, hiding the figurine behind her back like a child caught stealing sweets.
"This is—"
"I know," he interrupted, his voice flat.
He pushed off the doorframe and approached her with slow, deliberate steps.
Juliet's heart hammered in her chest. She lowered her eyes, unable to meet his gaze, her fingers tightening around the doves hidden behind her.
Lennox stopped directly in front of her and extended his hand.
*He wants it back.*
Biting her lip, Juliet reluctantly brought the figurine forward and placed it in his palm.
*Why did I even try to hide it? Now he'll think I was trying to steal—*
She felt like a fool. A child caught in a shameful act.
She kept her head down, staring at the doves resting in his hand, too mortified to look at his face.
Lennox examined the figurine in silence. Then, unexpectedly, he spoke.
"Do you like this cheap trinket?"
The words were cold. Dismissive.
Juliet felt her blood turn to ice.
"Answer me, Juliet."
She didn't want to look up. Didn't want to see the contempt she was certain would be written across his face.
But then his fingers caught her chin — gentle but unyielding — and tilted her head up, forcing her to meet his eyes.
He was smiling.
But his eyes were not.
*He's angry.*
He always smiled like that when he was displeased — a thin, cutting smile that never reached his gaze.
Her thoughts spiraled in a chaotic whirl.
*What did I do wrong?*
*Is he angry because I accepted the old man's greeting? Because I pretended to be the Duchess?*
*Does he think I'm overstepping? Coveting what isn't mine?*
*Should I apologize? Explain that I didn't mean to—*
"...It's not cheap."
The words came out before she could stop them.
The figurine might be worthless compared to the Duke's vast fortune — but to her, it was something precious. A small, beautiful thing that had been freely given.
She met his gaze and held it.
"Give it back," she said quietly. "It's mine."
For a long moment, Lennox said nothing.
She braced herself for the worst. Perhaps he would drop the doves and let them shatter on the floor. Perhaps he would tell her to leave his palace and never return.
Instead, he placed the figurine back in her hands.
"...Fine."
Then he turned and walked away.
A month passed before she saw him again. He left the palace the very next day, citing the need to inspect his northern holdings.
And several months after that, Juliet noticed that one of the doves — the one she had kept carefully tucked in her jewelry box — had vanished.
She never found it.
But she never regretted what she had said that day.
---
## — The Present —
Juliet watched the remaining dove figurine sway precariously near the edge of her open suitcase. Carefully, she lifted it and tucked it into an inner pocket, where it would be safe.
It was silver. Finely crafted. But in truth, it wasn't particularly valuable — just a trinket smelted from common ore.
And yet she had been devastated when the second dove disappeared, like a child who had lost a beloved toy.
*That's why I left this one where I could see it,* she realized. *I didn't want to lose it too.*
Her gaze drifted to the train window, where the landscape blurred past in shades of green and gold.
*Lennox was furious last night.*
She had seen it in his eyes — that cold, simmering anger beneath the mask of civility.
But it wouldn't last.
Lennox Carlisle was not accustomed to being refused. He was angry because she had defied him — embarrassed him, perhaps — but it was a fleeting irritation. The man had never truly *lost* anything before.
The previous evening, he had changed his plans and ordered her to return to the North immediately.
Instead, she had run.
And lied to him.
So Lennox — likely infuriated by her insolence — had left the capital and headed north with his retinue.
He had no reason to stay, after all. His business in the capital was finished.
"...He's probably met her by now," Juliet murmured to the empty compartment.
*Dahlia Frann.*
His true love.
The woman who had always been meant to stand beside him.
---
## — Meanwhile, in the Black Forest —
Contrary to popular belief, Lennox Carlisle led a remarkably disciplined life.
Though he played the role of a cold, ruthless tyrant when the situation demanded it, the daily routine of the Duke of Carlisle was monotonous and unremarkable.
Outside of his work, Lennox's leisure time was divided between two pursuits.
He either went hunting in the monster-infested forests that bordered his lands, or he stayed in bed with his mistress for days at a time.
As employers went, he was tolerable — if somewhat narcissistic and difficult to please. He never drank to excess. He had never touched drugs in his life. He did not gamble.
Even his hunting served a practical purpose. The North was a dangerous land, teeming with wild beasts and monsters. The people who lived there loved their lord because he periodically culled the creatures that threatened their villages.
Everything was orderly. Controlled. Functional.
Except for one glaring omission: there was never any mention of the Duke's engagement, let alone his marriage.
Elliot had begun to think, lately, that it would be easier if his master were a drunkard or a drug addict.
At least then, Lennox wouldn't be dragging everyone into the middle of a monster-infested forest in the dead of night.
***ROOOAAAAAR!!!***
A monstrous bellow echoed through the trees, shaking the ground beneath their feet.
"JUDE?!" Elliot screamed reflexively, his voice cracking with panic.
No one knew what the Duke was doing. Or why he was prowling the depths of the Black Forest like a man possessed.
"...At this rate, His Grace will wipe out every monster near the capital," Jude muttered, his tone thoughtful. "Shouldn't the royal family be paying us for this?"
Elliot stared at him in disbelief.
Jude — the youngest knight in the Duke's retinue, usually cheerful and easygoing — had a maddening habit of saying wildly inappropriate things with a completely straight face. It was impossible to tell whether he was joking or deadly serious.
Still, Elliot felt a twinge of shame. Here he was, trembling like a leaf, while Jude stood beside him perfectly calm.
The previous evening, Lennox had gone to the train station to retrieve Juliet.
He had returned alone.
And ever since, he had been in a... *state.*
The Duke's entire entourage was now camped in the forest outside the capital, watching their lord tear through the undergrowth like a man hunting demons — cutting down everything that crossed his path.
*Damn it. We're not the only ones confused.*
Perhaps even Juliet herself didn't realize it — but over the past three years, the Duke of Carlisle's daily life had gradually, inexorably, become centered around her.
And now that she had left him, he was rampaging through the forest like a wounded beast, slaughtering monsters because he didn't know what else to do.
"...I'd prefer if he just got drunk," Elliot muttered.
"Or found a new woman to warm his bed," Jude added dryly.
Elliot couldn't even argue.