"How rich," Leonardo's voice slid through the air like silk laced with venom, his cold gaze fixed on Lady Elize. "Coming from a woman whose worth was forged in the warmth of a prince's bed. He didn't see you fit for a ring, did he? Perhaps that's because even he knew — a dancer's daughter makes a poor wife, but an amusing plaything."
The room went deathly silent. The noblewomen nearby froze, their painted lips curling into cruel, delighted smirks as their eyes flicked between Elize and Leonardo like vultures circling fresh prey.
Druvok let out a low, dry laugh under his breath, one he didn't bother to hide.
But Leonardo wasn't finished.
"Who would've thought," he added smoothly, his lips quirking in mock amusement, "that the child of a tavern dancer would one day dare compare herself to a duke's daughter. Truly… life is full of little surprises."
A wave of snickers and whispered gasps followed his words. Elize's face went crimson, her carefully crafted mask of arrogance crumbling. She shot a venomous glare toward Maliny — who sat quietly, unaware of the full storm, yet sensing it by the tightness in the air.
Elize turned on her heel and stormed out, chin high, but her trembling hands betrayed her.
Maliny's face softened into a small, content smile. She reached for Leonardo's hand, her pale fingers curling around his.
"Your hands," she murmured softly, "they're always warm… like always. They make me feel safe."
Leonardo's expression shifted, a flicker of something genuine — rare and hidden — before his smirk returned.
Druvok's jaw tightened. Some odd ache gnawed at his chest, a reminder of what he'd lost. He once commanded armies. Now… he couldn't even claim the right to protect one he care about.
Leonardo caught the eye of the boutique's designer.
"Prepare the fitting room," he ordered coolly. "I want her to try best what you have I don't care about cost."
And so began the procession.
Maliny tried gown after gown — soft blue silks, deep crimson velvets, shimmering green brocade. Each one wrapped around her slender figure, her silver-blonde hair cascading down like threads of light. She twirled playfully in each, asking eagerly:
"How do I look?"
Druvok, arms crossed, gave a gruff, "Good," every time — though a faint pink dusted his cheeks.
Leonardo, however, barely spared a glance.
"Ridiculous. You look like a child playing dress-up."
Druvok shot him a sharp glare, his teeth gritting. But the maids, used to Leonardo's sharp tongue, simply smiled and fetched another gown.
At last, the designer returned with something special — a breathtaking gown of ivory white, stitched with golden threads in delicate, intricate patterns. Lace traced the collar and sleeves, while the bodice shimmered with tiny seed pearls. The skirt fanned out like mist, light as air, with embroidered white roses climbing the hem.
Maliny emerged from the fitting room, the dress flowing around her like a cloud. The soft white against her moon-pale skin and platinum hair made her look almost unearthly, and her pale blue eyes seemed even brighter, like fragments of a winter sky.
Druvok couldn't speak. His throat tightened.
Leonardo raised a brow, a slow, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.
"Finally," he murmured. "Something worthy of a daughter of duchy drime's bloodline."
Without another word, he snapped his fingers at the shopkeeper.
"I'll take it. Wrap it carefully — and double the price. I want everyone to know it left this shop for her."
The noblewomen who remained could only watch in bitter silence as Maliny smiled, running her fingers across the fine lace, unaware of the envy crackling around her.