Fated Eclipse: The Illegitimate Princess And Her Alpha Suitors

Chapter 300: Do You Like Me?

Chapter 299: Do You Like Me?

Oliver stared at Princess Lyria, his eyes wide with disbelief. Surely he had heard her wrong. A princess did not offer snacks to servants. That was simply not how things were done. It was not proper. It was not expected. And yet, there she was before him, her hand outstretched, holding a small tart toward him with an expression of genuine warmth that seemed entirely out of place in the rigid hierarchy of the palace.

He turned to his master, seeking guidance, but Duke Aurelgrave was trying—and failing—to hold in his laughter. His shoulders shook with the effort of containing himself, and his hand was pressed lightly against his mouth. The sight of his master so thoroughly amused only deepened Oliver’s confusion.

Princess Lyria tilted her head slightly, her brow furrowing with impatience.

"Are you g-going to leave m-me with my h-hand outstretched l-like this?" she asked. "Or p-perhaps you are g-going to have p-pity on me and t-take the snack?"

Oliver blinked rapidly, still struggling to process the situation. His mind raced through all the proper protocols, all the rules he had been taught about how servants should behave in the presence of nobility. None of them covered this.

He glanced at the maids who had accompanied the Princess—Margery and Pippa. He knew their names. He had made it his business to know them, as Duke Aurelgrave had done a thorough search on everyone assigned to the Princess.

And to his surprise, they had already taken the snacks from the Princess’s hand and thanked her.

Margery had accepted a small tart with a quiet murmur of gratitude, her weathered face softening with surprise. Pippa had taken a meat pie with a small smile. They had not hesitated.

Oliver, seeing he had no other choice, reached out and took the snack from Lyria’s hand.

Lyria smiled at him.

"T-try it," she said. "It is r-really good."

He looked at the small pastry in his hand, then back at her. With the way she looked at him, no one would believe that she had been abused by the royal family and still continued to suffer their abuse. She looked bright, happy even. There was a lightness to her expression that seemed entirely out of place for someone who had endured what she had. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight, and her smile was genuine.

Perhaps that was why he did as she told him.

He took a bite.

The pastry was warm and flaky, the filling savoury and rich. It melted on his tongue, the flavours perfectly balanced. It was really good, just as she had said. He took another bite, then another, unable to help himself.

Lyria beamed at him, pleased with his reaction. Her whole face lit up, and for a moment, she looked like nothing more than a young woman sharing a meal with friends.

Then she turned to Lucian, who had been observing her with a soft smile on his face. His eyes were warm, and there was something almost tender in his expression.

She blushed immediately, the colour rising to her cheeks.

"Why are you l-looking at me l-like that?" she asked him.

Lucian’s smile did not fade as he shook his head.

"It is nothing," he said. "I am simply realising more and more how amazing you actually are. Every moment I spend with you, I discover something new."

Lyria cleared her throat, clearly flustered by his words.

"E-eat," she told him, pointing at the basket.

He chuckled again, and then he reached into the basket and took some snacks, eating them with a smile on his face as he watched her.

When they finished, they continued dancing.

Lucian guided her through the steps, his hand warm at her waist, his fingers light against hers.

"Your posture is better," he said. "But you are still tensing your shoulders. Relax. Let the movement flow through you."

She tried, consciously releasing the tension in her frame.

"Better," he said. "Now your turn—you are hesitating. Trust the movement."

She did.

They danced for a while longer, the rhythm becoming more natural with each pass. The steps that had once felt foreign were now second nature, her body responding to his lead without conscious thought.

Then Lucian spoke again.

"What did you think of the last competition?" he asked.

Lyria laughed, the sound bright and genuine, echoing across the still water.

"It was an e-epic disaster," she said. "And p-perhaps that is why I l-loved it. It w-was the most e-entertaining thing I have seen in a l-long time."

Lucian raised an eyebrow.

"You loved it?"

"Y-yes," she said. "You did w-well, but Duke V-Valenridge, Duke T-Thorncrest, and Earl H-Hawthorne... what w-was that? I have never s-seen a-anything quite like it."

Lucian shook his head, a rueful smile on his face.

"I do not understand it either," he said. "For men of their standing, a competition such as that should not have been an issue at all. Surely they learned to compose when they were younger. It is a basic part of a nobleman’s education."

Lyria tilted her head, her expression thoughtful.

"Duke V-Valenridge told m-me he m-missed his lessons," she said. "Instead of a-attending his musical l-lessons, he spent t-time with his s-sister."

Lucian missed a step at her words, making Lyria stumble, but he quickly steadied her, his hand tightening at her waist.

"Forgive me," he said.

But his eyes were wide with surprise.

"You spoke with Evander?" he asked.

Lyria beamed, nodding her head enthusiastically.

"Yes," she said. "It was q-quite a d-delightful c-conversation. He is v-very... entertaining."

She was unaware of the way that made Lucian feel. The discomfort that settled in his chest, the sudden tightness he felt at that moment.

Lucian forced his voice to remain steady.

"Do you perhaps like Evander?" he asked.

Lyria nodded, a soft smile on her face.

"Yes," she said.

Lucian’s heart rate increased. There was also this uncomfortable feeling in his chest. He guided her through another turn, his mind racing.

"And what about me?" he asked carefully. "Do you like me?"