Chapter 8: A Kiss for a Stranger
Lyria's POV
Surely that was enough, right? This wasn't the situation I had heard maids talk about, where someone who did them a favour started asking them to repay with their bodies, right?
He tilted his head thoughtfully. "You did. But surely that isn't enough."
I risked a brief glance upward before immediately regretting it.
His eyes danced with mischief.
"Pardon me, sir, but I do not un… un… un…"
Bloody gods! Why did this have to happen now? Every time I was nervous, my system remembered that I had a speech defect.
"You do not what? Surely my handsomeness hasn't made you short of words, right?" Alistair asked with a smile.
I almost rolled my eyes. If only it was handsomeness that caused whatever was happening right now.
I settled myself and took a deep breath before speaking again. "Handsome as you are, I am merely confused as to what it is you are requesting of me."
I told him, and thankfully, my speech defect didn't make itself known.
No one in high society had time for someone who stammered, and so I learned to control it, counting my words until it became less visible than when I stammered… badly.
"Hmm," Alistair said, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "The only thing I like out of what you said is the fact that I am handsome, though I already knew that," he added with a smile.
Was this what people meant when they said one was full of themselves? I'll have to ask Patricia. She had more experience speaking with people than I did, after all.
I only nodded and gave Alistair a frown because, like I said, I was confused by what was happening right now.
"What I mean is, you are supposed to reward me for saving you," Alistair told me.
"But," I said, counting my words, "I thanked you already. Isn't that also a reward?"
"Thanks from a woman is less of a reward. I need something else — something that shows that I have been rewarded," he told me.
"And what would that be?" I asked.
"Now we are getting somewhere. It's something simple — just a kiss for your gallant saviour," he said with a cheeky smile.
I blinked in shock. "Surely you jest, sir."
"I am serious, my lady."
"I… I… am hard… hardly a lady, but a… k-kiss?" I asked in shock, eyes wide.
He laughed. "Why are you saying it like that? Like it's something you can't even make sense of?" he asked.
His words reminded me again to take rein of my emotions and count my words. I remembered the Queen's words: 'No one listens to a stammerer. No one takes them seriously.'
I exhaled slowly. "I can't make sense of it. This has to be a joke. You can't really mean I should kiss you, right? A kiss?" I asked.
"Yes," he said seriously, though the corners of his lips betrayed him. "All damsels in distress reward their heroic rescuers with a kiss. I believe it is tradition."
It was not tradition — at least, I didn't think it was. I'll have to ask Patricia, though.
My brows knitted together. "Why would you even want a kiss from me?" I asked, gesturing at myself.
The whole thought was absurd because I could not imagine even kissing him. And why should I? I didn't even know him. And I also wasn't dressed attractively for him to want a kiss from me.
He studied me with open curiosity. "Why wouldn't I?"
"That hardly answers the question."
He laughed softly. "I just saved your life, fair maiden. That alone earns some measure of reward, does it not?"
"I am thankful," I said firmly. "Truly. But I will not be giving you a kiss."
His shoulders sagged dramatically.
"That is deeply tragic," he lamented. "I would have quite enjoyed a kiss from you. You are very beautiful, you know."
I stiffened slightly at the bluntness of the compliment. My cheeks reddened. There were only three people in the world who had called me beautiful. One was my mother — but then she always called me her beautiful child. The other was Patricia, and lastly, Corvin — but then, I didn't think Corvin actually meant it when he called me beautiful, especially after what had happened recently.
I'm not going to deny that it was nice hearing it from someone else, but I wondered if he would still feel the same way when he finally saw me fully… wait, could it be the Duke was a flirt? I'm not even dressed attractively, and I'm wearing a cloak and a hood that covers me fully.
The Duke was probably playing jokes on me.
"I must go," I said again, more firmly this time.
He reached out before I could fully retreat, his fingers brushing lightly around my wrist — not rough, not possessive, but enough to halt my movement.
"Just one kiss," he coaxed playfully. "Then I shall graciously release you back into the wild."
I pulled my hand back gently but decisively. "No, sir. I thank you for your effort in saving me from the impending carriage incident, but I must go."
His eyes sparkled like my defiance elated him. "You are stubborn, fair maiden. And it's a trait I admire."
Before either of us could continue the ridiculous exchange—
The clock tower rang.
The chime sliced through the night.
One.
Two.
Three.
"I have to go," I blurted urgently.
Before he could react, I twisted free completely and darted backward, my boots already propelling me into motion.
"Wait—!" he called after me.
I didn't.
I ran.
I slipped into the flow of shadow and lanternlight, weaving through drifting pedestrians and narrow alleys, my cloak snapping behind me like a trailing wing. My lungs burned, heart pounding wildly as I pushed my body harder.
Honestly, I used the clock chiming as an excuse to escape the Duke. I also needed to rest because I had lots of work to do tomorrow.
The palace loomed ahead in the distance, its silhouette rising like a sleeping giant against the moonlit sky.
Even as I made my way toward the palace, I was confused.
Why was Duke Alistair Thorncrest outside the palace at this hour?
According to royal decree, all candidates were required to remain within palace grounds until the selection concluded. It was meant to ensure fairness, security, and constant observation.
And yet, he had been in the streets.
Well, not that it was any of my concern. Besides, I was sure we would not run into each other again.