Kapitel 11: The Ideal Match

"If I marry, it will be to someone stronger than myself."

This was a conviction Viola Rosemary, eldest daughter of the prestigious Rosemary Marquis family, had held for as long as she could remember.

"Haa… Who exactly is that boy?"

Viola lay sprawled across her bed, staring aimlessly at the intricately carved ceiling of her bedroom. Her golden hair, long and untamed, fanned out across her pillow, catching the glow of the candlelight. The soft fabric of her nightgown clung to her slender frame, revealing a figure more mature than her fourteen years would suggest. Alone in her room, she was vulnerable—not physically, but emotionally.

Her thoughts, once clear and precise, were now a tangled mess, all centered around one person.

(Rest… Rest. He didn't give his full name, but he said he was from the Evern family, right?)

Since the day he saved her and her sister, Primula, in the forest, Rest's face had taken up residence in her mind. Every detail of him haunted her: the quiet strength in his voice, the sharpness of his gaze, and the sheer power he had displayed in their moment of crisis.

Viola sighed again, rolling onto her side as her fingers idly traced patterns on the embroidered bedspread.

Her family, the Rosemary Marquisate, was one of the kingdom's most esteemed. The head of the family—her father—served as the kingdom's chief court magician, a position of immense power and influence. Generations of the Rosemary family had produced exceptional magicians, and Viola had been raised with the understanding that she, too, would carry on that legacy.

(Someday, I'll inherit the family title, and with it, the responsibility to continue our lineage. I'll need a husband who is not only skilled in magic but strong enough to surpass me. That's the only way to ensure the next generation will be even greater than the last.)

For years, Viola had believed this goal was impossible to achieve. Finding someone stronger than her, someone worthy of standing at her side, seemed unlikely at best.

That was until her father mentioned the Evern family.

Lucas Evern, a court magician serving under the Rosemary Marquis, had a son close to Viola's age. Word of the boy's talent had reached Viola through her father, who described him as a prodigy with a bright future. Intrigued by the possibility, Viola agreed to visit the Evern estate, accompanied by Primula, with the intent of meeting this supposed genius.

What she found, however, was a crushing disappointment.

(Cedric Evern…)

Viola's lips pressed into a thin line as the memory surfaced. Cedric had greeted them with all the arrogance of a spoiled noble, his eyes lingering far too long on her face and figure. He had wasted no time boasting about his magical prowess, barely letting anyone else speak. His every action screamed entitlement and selfishness, traits Viola found utterly repellent.

(He may be talented, but thinking of him as my husband is horrifying.)

Her initial intrigue had soured almost immediately. Even when Cedric demonstrated his magic in the forest, showcasing abilities that were indeed impressive, it wasn't enough to make up for his glaring flaws.

(Strength alone isn't enough. A husband should have character, integrity… qualities Cedric clearly lacks.)

By the time their ill-fated excursion into the forest had begun, Viola had already written him off as a candidate. And then came the White Fenrir.

Viola shuddered at the memory. The massive beast had loomed over them, its golden eyes glowing with fury. She had been certain it was the end—for her, for Primula, and for Cedric, who had brought them into the forest with his reckless need to show off.

And then Rest appeared.

"My name is Rest. I'm… let's say Cedric's half-brother."

The boy who emerged from the shadows had been unlike anyone Viola had ever met. Dressed in tattered clothes, he carried himself with a calm confidence that belied his humble appearance. His magic, however, was anything but humble.

He had faced the White Fenrir without hesitation, deflecting its attacks with a barrier spell and driving it back with a surge of raw magical energy so overwhelming that Viola had been left breathless.

(He's stronger than me… Stronger than Cedric…)

Her fingers tightened on the bedspread. That strength, combined with his unassuming demeanor and quiet resolve, had made an impression Viola couldn't shake. For the first time, she found herself envisioning a future that included someone other than herself.

(If I were to marry Rest… our children would inherit the strength of the Rosemary lineage and his unparalleled magical talent. They might even surpass the greatest magicians in history.)

Viola's cheeks flushed at the thought, and she rolled onto her back, pressing her hands to her face.

"Ugh, what am I thinking?" she muttered aloud.

But no matter how she tried to push the idea aside, it kept returning. Rest wasn't just strong—he was kind. He had saved her and Primula without hesitation, without expecting anything in return. His actions had been selfless, even noble, despite his apparent status as Cedric's illegitimate half-brother.

Her mind wandered to Primula. Her younger sister had also been captivated by Rest, though she had tried to hide it.

(Primula… I love you, but this is one thing I can't give up. Rest is my choice.)

Viola's thoughts wavered, a small voice whispering a compromise she barely dared to entertain. (Maybe we could share him… No, stop it! What kind of absurd idea is that?)

Shaking her head, Viola forced herself to focus. Before any of this could become reality, she needed to take action. Rest deserved recognition, and her father needed to see his value.

(I'll invite him to the estate. Father will want to meet the boy who saved us. Once he sees Rest's strength, I'm sure he'll approve.)

Her gaze drifted toward the small tea set on her bedside table, and a faint smile crossed her lips.

(Tea… and perhaps some pastries. I wonder what kind of sweets he likes?)

Her heart fluttered at the thought, and for the first time in days, Viola allowed herself to feel a flicker of hope. Rest had saved her life, but perhaps, just perhaps, he had also saved her future.

Kommentar Kommentar von 0

Abstimmen

GESCHENK VERSENDEN

Load failed, please RETRY