章 33: Fire Against Fire

"It's true, father. I hadn't realised I was walking into a trap," she lowers her head. The duke shakes his head and edges closer towards the bed, pulling his daughter in his arms.

Doctor Aren and the maids in the room exchange looks and silently excuse themselves to avoid the duke's later screaming once the worry for his daughter passes.

Upon being held so gently by the father she'd taken as stern and heartless, Myra tenses in surprise.

"It's not your fault, Myra. It never is. I know the young lady you've come to be and you wouldn't do anything that would intentionally hurt yourself. And even if you did, I trust that you know how to handle it the Ruskin way," Duke Ruskin separates and stands to regain his composure.

For a brief moment, Myra catches a sly smirk on her father's face, which is a sentiment she now infers from the look of his eyes.

The epiphany of the true meaning of her father's words hit her hard and she averts her gaze immediately. <i>He knows my intentions. </i>

Pressing her hand against her face, she purses her lips in thought and snickers. "So would you like me to behead them myself?" the duke interrupts her thought with something far more gory, delivered in a way that seems innocent unlike the context.

Myra narrows her eyes at her father, but doesn't find a hint of jokingness in his tone. "I want to invite her to the house. I'm sure there are rumours of my sudden illness after the party so I'd like to speak to her personally," she smiles.

The duke made an uncomfortable expression as he folds his arms, not having expected mercy to be an option in his daughter's mind.

Unable to read into her intentions, he stares for an answer. The sun beyond the uncovered windows behind him shifts such that a shadow drapes over half of the duke's face, bathing him in an ominous light though it's mid-day.

"I appreciate your worries, father," Myra bows, dodging her father's clear expectations of having a better explanation.

"I'll have you know that I'm not very pleased with this choice of yours but considering Cole has yet to return from the forests in the east, perhaps trusting your decision will be the best. I trust that the Lady to-be of the Ruskin house knows her actions."

"It's best you leave your faith with me, father," Myra's lips curl. Duke Ruskin exits the room as soon as he'd entered it, this time, not turning back once more to look at his daughter. He isn't a man of many words, one who trusts his instructions only with his closest servants.

The duke isn't a trustful man and doesn't offer his presence to many, hence why the manor has limited staff with each worker carrying the weight of several roles at once.

With the absence of others in the room, Myra lurches forward and grabs her aching head, dangerously close to opening an emotional door she'd barricaded.

Not everything about noble life is so lovely.

Leia enters the room shortly after, with Jen having strayed away unlike the usual. "My lady, you look terrible. Would you like to take a quick bath?" she questions, eyebrows curved inwards in worry.

Although Myra feels more anxious than sick, the jittery feeling of goosebumps prickling against her skin leaves her wanting to stay in bed. She shakes her head and Leia understands that she's in no place to be forceful.

Leia leaves to fetch breakfast in the kitchen and Myra immediately collapses against the bed hopelessly.

Even a knock on her window fails to faze her as she simply turns her back to the sound.

When the sounds cease, she takes it that she's safe until a cold presence looms by the side of her bed, casting a shadow over her. Myra turns in a panic, instinctively grabbing a pillow to defend herself against the mysterious visitor.

Holding her "weapon" against the neck of the anonymous person as a defence, Ares holds up both hands in defeat. Realising that there is no threat in the room, Myra reluctantly lowers her pillow and instead pulls it into her chest.

The marquess graces his presence with a formal bow to his old friend to apologise. "I thought you had died but I know your maids wouldn't have let me see you in your bedroom."

"Is it appropriate to mention indecent matters in front of a woman? Much more, your friend who is down with an illness," Myra raises an exaggerated eyebrow at the marquess. Ares snickers mischievously, amused to see his friend ready with her snarky attitude.

With her permission, he drags a stool over and sits upon it and Myra almost suggests that he sits upon her bed beside her.

The etiquette of this universe, because of its variation and the emphasis put on how men should interact with women, still disturbs Myra who would've never seen the problem with having a close friend share her space.

Being reminded of the indecent nature of her thoughts, she flushes red and turns her face away.

"Are you running a fever? You've turned red!" Ares stretched across the bed and pulls her forward by the wrist so he can check her temperature. This doesn't help her case and her skin grows warmer as blood rushes to her cheeks in an instant.

Stubbornly, she averts her gaze and raises a hand to urge him away.

Ares, for some reason, doesn't seem to take any embarrassment from his forwardness. Eyebrows quirked absently, he continues, "Is there a problem? Do you want me to fetch a maid?"

Myra shakes her head, "You're being awfully close to a lady who's in her nightgown. You might want to keep your distance."

Ares' gaze drops for a second and his cheeks flare bashfully. Pulling away immediately, he stumbles as the back of his heel hits the chair and he falls right atop it, not without a last stumble to rack his composure though.

Myra lets out a giggle at his clumsiness and crawls to the edge of her bed to close their distance.

Although she remembers little about Ares in the story she'd written in her past life, she's starting to grow some affection for him.

Trying his hardest to hide the quiver in his voice, the marquess folds his legs and changes his tone into one of utmost seriousness, "While I did come here to check on your health since I was concerned something terrible had happened to you, I wanted to know how you'd deal with the situation… I should've been there to protect you, Myra. I'm sorry."

He lowers his head, disappointment heavy in his heart over his inability to keep her safe although a harder tone in his voice could've saved her from the entire circumstance.

Myra stretches a hand forward, eager to hold his but is quickly reminded of etiquette and drops it. "You don't have to fret. It was a decision I made myself and truthfully, I willingly touched the poisonous plant although I could see Ariana quickly hover her hand over the specimen without properly making contact with it. Surely, you would believe that I wouldn't do something so foolish in a garden known for its toxicity," she smiles.

Ares stares with an owlish look in his eyes, as if he'd seriously believed that Myra did so intentionally.

After all, with the harshness of her personality gone since she awoke, many had assumed that she lost her wit and intelligence alongside the rest of her. Instead of speaking, he simply sits up straight quietly and waits expectantly for her to continue.

"I wanted to invite her and use this situation to gain her friendship."