Bab 9: Calm Before the Storm
Andromeda's room was draped in an eerie calm, a stillness that matched the darkness brewing within her. The heavy curtains swayed gently, casting elongated shadows that danced like specters across the walls. In the midst of this spectral display, Andromeda's breathing gradually steadied, her thoughts converging into a singular point of focus—the realization that she was now the puppeteer.
Andromeda's half-lidded gaze rested upon the bouquet of roses in the intricately carved vase, yet her thoughts danced far beyond the confines of her luxurious chamber. A realization, like a slow-spreading warmth, seeped into her bones and veins. The fire that had raged within her chest was now a controlled burn, a smoldering ember that held the promise of power. With each heartbeat, she could feel her newfound strength resonating through her, resonating with the darkness that now coursed within.
Raising her small hand before her, she studied her fingers as if they were instruments of destiny themselves. In that simple gesture, she recognized herself as the artist of her own narrative. The world lay before her like a blank canvas, ready to bear the strokes of her chaos-laden brush. Her fingers trembled, not with fear, but with the exhilaration of newfound dominion.
It was like she had become a puppet master, manipulating invisible strings that connected her to each player in her unfolding drama. In her mind's eye, she saw a grand chessboard spread out before her, each piece representing a person who had once played a part in her downfall. With every move she would orchestra, she would tightened her control over the game, ensuring that her opponents were unwittingly advancing towards their own demise.
The past whispered its lessons, and she listened with newfound clarity. Her past failures had stemmed from a lack of concern for their insignificant machinations. But the game had changed, and she had evolved. The reins of control were now firmly in her grasp, a sensation that brought her a deep sense of satisfaction. The colors of her imagination were dark, intense, and full of foreboding.
She finally felt at peace…
The realm of dreams beckoned to her, and she welcomed it with open arms. Her eyes slid shut and she eased into a deep slumber.
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The grandeur of the moment crystallized as Grand Duke Eleftherios Ruelle Bethel returned from the rigorous training grounds. His commanding presence filled the room, a manifestation of authority and strength. His tall stature was cloaked in a regal charm that demanded attention. Fiery red hair cascaded slightly past his shoulders, held in place by a gray silk ribbon that mirrored the hue of the duchess's own eyes. A short, well-kept beard framed his face, accentuating the intensity of his hazel eyes. Draped in the deep red and silver uniform that clung to his athletic form, he epitomized power and elegance.
In the parlor adjacent to their bedchamber, the grand duchess awaited him, her poise unwavering. Her demeanor remained composed as he entered, the room imbued with a sense of reverence in his presence. The grand duchess remained seated, watching as the guards and maids took their leave, discreetly departing with his outer shirt.
With deliberate grace, the grand duke approached her. The air seemed to still as he knelt before her, his gaze respectful yet laden with a silent understanding. Tenderly, his fingers found the ebony strands of her long hair, his lips finding the tips in a soft kiss. The grand duchess reciprocated the gesture, her arms enfolding him in a gentle embrace. In hushed tones, she murmured her inquiry, the question a reflection of their unspoken intimacy.
"How fared today's training?" Her words held a delicate curiosity, a bridge between their private worlds. In that moment, the grand duke and duchess were not just figures of authority, but partners in a dance where vulnerability and strength intertwined.
Grand Duke Eleftherios leaned back slightly, studying the duchess's eyes with a perceptive gaze. He could sense a shift in her demeanor, a subtlety that didn't escape his discerning eyes. "My day was eventful, my love," he replied, his voice carrying a deep warmth. "But it seems something has changed since I left this morning."
His fingers lightly brushed against her cheek, his touch tender as he sought to reassure her that whatever weighed upon her heart was open for discussion. The absence of her usual gesture of greeting—taking his training shirt—had not gone unnoticed. He lowered his gaze to meet hers, the hazel of his eyes meeting her gaze with an unspoken inquiry, inviting her to share her thoughts.
The grand duke's hazel eyes held a mixture of concern and understanding as he sensed the undercurrent of change. He brushed her cheek with the tenderness that only years of partnership could yield, a silent gesture conveying his readiness to listen whenever she chose to confide in him.
"Later, then," the duchess murmured softly, her tone a blend of reassurance and a desire to enjoy the present moment. It was true—he had just returned, and the weight of conversations could wait. Her lips curved into a faint smile, a gentle invitation for them to immerse themselves in the calm of the present.
"Tea, perhaps?" she suggested, her voice carrying a lightness as she motioned towards the nearby table. "The jasmine blend that you favor." And then, her gaze twinkled with a touch of mischief. "The chef has concocted a new confection, one that holds your favorite fruit—cherries." Her words danced with a melody of shared secrets, an unspoken understanding of the little pleasures that added warmth to their bond.
He nodded in approval, his features softening as he recognized her unspoken request for a moment of normalcy. The grand duke understood that there were times to push and times to let things unfold in their own due course.
She leaned closer, her voice a murmur. "I'll be awaiting you on the balcony that overlooks the northern garden." Her words held a promise, a quiet expectation of his presence. His fingers grazed her cheek again, a tender caress that spoke volumes. "I'll join you soon," he murmured, his words a pledge.
As the grand duke withdrew to prepare for his bath, the duchess's focus shifted to the imminent tea gathering. Conversations and confidences were waiting in the wings, ready to take center stage when the time was right. Yet, for now, both of them sought refuge in the familiar embrace of routine—a balm for the soul amidst their noble responsibilities.
With a sense of purpose, the duchess addressed the maids, her voice cold and carrying an air of command. "Prepare for tea," she instructed, her words an invocation that set the wheels of preparation in motion. The maids moved with practiced efficiency, their hands skilled in the art of anticipating their mistress's needs.
Mariglen, the head maid, approached the duchess, a respectful nod accompanying her words. "Your Grace, should I inform Princess Andromeda's maid, Dennis, about the gathering?"
The duchess's hazel eyes held a glint of agreement. "Let her know that we will be having tea on the balcony overlooking the northern garden. She should be prepared for a summon from His Grace." Her voice carried a touch of calm, but the maid gently bowed her head. After all, she was aware of the situation, having known the duchess for years, she knew that duchess will not keep the incident from the duke for long.
Mariglen nodded, respectfully. "Of course, Your Grace. I will ensure that everything is arranged as per your wishes."
With an elegant nod, the duchess watched as Mariglen moved to relay the message to Princess Andromeda's maid. The intricate choreography of their household staff was a dance in itself, a symphony of coordination that made every event seamless.
As the room hummed with the quiet activity of the maids, the duchess found herself swept up in the preparations.
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The garden was a sanctuary of tranquility, the air carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers as the duchess awaited her husband's arrival. The balcony overlooking the northern garden had been adorned with delicate arrangements, a testament to the duchess's meticulous attention to detail. She stood there, her gaze turning towards the sprawling expanse of greenery, her thoughts were still tangled into the incident from this morning but she didn't show it from her face.
As the grand duke approached, the duchess's hazel eyes brightened, a faint smile gracing her lips. He took his seat beside her, a silent understanding passing between them. Their conversations were their own, a blend of camaraderie and confidences.
"Training was eventful today," he began, his voice light as he allowed himself to share a glimpse of his day. "The recruits are showing promise, but there's still much to be done."
The duchess nodded in understanding, her gaze meeting his with a knowing twinkle. It was a conversation they had engaged in countless times, a ritual of sharing their respective spheres of influence.
"And speaking of events," the duchess interjected, a subtle shift in her tone as she introduced a new topic. "The countess Grell's daughter's coming-of-age ceremony is approaching."
The grand duke's hazel eyes held a spark of interest. "Ah, the Countess Grell. The power house of the north."
The duchess nodded, a thread of approval woven into her words. "Indeed. She might hold the title of a countess, but she is the one who wields power with finesse. Her lineage is gifted by the flame deity. Besides, its a good occasion to talk to her about the borders." The duchess's eyes glinted.
Hadiah
-- Hadiah diterima Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone