Call Me Frederick

Duke Daniyel noticed Evangeline standing with the masked boy, noting the lad's attire and assuming he was one of the guests for the evening. He admired the boy's appearance, his sharp features and graceful posture. Clearing his throat, he raised a curious brow. "Evangeline… do you know this boy? I haven't seen him around before."

Without hesitation, Evangeline reached for the boy's arm, leaning in with an innocent smile. "Uncle Daniyel, he's my dance partner—the one I've been waiting for. Now that he's here, I'd love to dance with him." She spoke with confidence, hoping her quick lie would divert any suspicion, especially given the dangers often surrounding the palace and its guests. The boy's cheeks flushed beneath his mask, caught off guard by Evangeline's boldness, but he hid his reaction, impressed by her cleverness.

Daniyel considered her words, then chuckled warmly. "Ah, I see. But, Evangeline, your foot is injured—you can't possibly dance. What would your grandmother say if she saw you?"

"Please, tell Grandmother I'm fine. I can manage," she insisted, trying to mask the limp in her step. "Just say I got a blister, and that's why I'm wearing a bandage." Determined, she linked her arm with the boy's and led him into the ballroom, ignoring the pain that throbbed in her ankle. Daniyel watched her go, shaking his head with a sigh at her stubbornness.

Once they were out of earshot, Evangeline looked up at the masked boy with a grateful smile. "Thank you for saving me," she whispered, cheeks red as she nervously fidgeted with her hands. "And… I'm sorry for saying you were my dance partner. If I hadn't, my uncle might have…"

The boy held up his hand, stopping her. "There's no need to apologize. I understand. And, truthfully… I would love to dance with you, Your Grace." He bowed his head respectfully, his eyes meeting hers.

"Really?" Evangeline's face lit up with excitement. She eagerly took his hand, her eyes sparkling. "Then let's go!"

Despite the slight limp in her step, she led him to the center of the ballroom. The boy observed her carefully, noting the subtle winces of pain she tried to hide. His admiration grew as he watched her push through her discomfort, her spirit unyielding.

As the music began, he placed a steady hand on her waist, and she rested hers lightly on his shoulder. They started moving, their steps quickly synchronizing as he guided her across the dance floor with a grace and fluidity that captured everyone's attention. Their connection was undeniable, each step blending seamlessly into the next. As they spun and swayed, Evangeline found herself feeling safe in his arms, her heart racing with a new, unfamiliar sensation.

The other guests, drawn to the sight, watched in envy and curiosity. Whispers spread among the crowd, wondering who this mysterious boy was and why the young lady of the Sarogath family seemed so captivated by him. Noble boys her age eyed them with jealousy, unable to ignore the easy charm and skill the boy displayed as he danced with her.

But for Evangeline, the rest of the room faded away. She was wholly caught up in the moment, feeling as though they were the only two people there. For the first time, she felt a flutter of excitement—a sense of being both protected and free.

After their enchanting dance, Evangeline and the boy found a quiet spot by the palace fountain, its surface reflecting the gentle light of the moon. They sat together, watching the night sky, a comfortable silence between them. After a moment, their eyes met, and he reached out, his fingers entwining with hers.

Feeling drawn to him, Evangeline began to lean her head towards his shoulder, but the boy pulled back slightly, his gaze shifting. He released her hand and stood, as if preparing to leave.

"Are you leaving already? You haven't even told me your name…" Her voice held a note of disappointment, a touch of heartbreak at the thought of their time ending so soon.

The boy hesitated, wrestling with his thoughts. "I can't tell her I'm Dominic Brusward... if she knew, she'd despise me just as others despise my family's name," he thought with a sigh. He looked back at her, forcing a small smile. "When we meet again, maybe then… But for now, you can call me Frederick. I'm sorry, but I have to go."

With that, he took a step back, but before leaving, he lifted her hand gently to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. Her heart raced as she felt the warmth of his touch linger.

Evangeline watched him walk away, his figure gradually blending into the shadows until he disappeared from her sight. She sat by the fountain for a long while, her hand still tingling where he had kissed it, the memory of his mysterious smile etched into her mind. In her heart, she promised herself she would meet him again someday, determined to uncover the mystery behind her "Frederick."

Back to the Present

Evangeline watched as Dominic carefully tended to her bleeding feet, her heart racing with a mix of confusion and lingering feelings. "No, it can't be him. This man can't be Frederick," she thought, frustration bubbling within her. "I didn't even get his surname. I wish I could find him and tell him how I felt… and escape from this man!"

As Dominic finished wrapping her wound, he gently removed the bandage that had sealed her mouth. She gasped for breath, relief flooding her system as her lips were freed.

"It's better than letting the wound get infected. You'll be fine," Dominic said, his tone indifferent as he stepped back, giving her space.

Evangeline looked down at her bandaged feet, the method used strikingly familiar. Memories of the masked ball rushed back to her—the boy's gentle touch and the way he had made her feel safe. She stood up, a surge of determination propelling her forward. Slipping on her slippers, she glanced at Dominic, her emotions swirling like a tempest inside her.

Without another word, she walked towards the small door on the side, the one leading to a place where she could gather her thoughts. She passed Dominic, ignoring the curious look he cast her way, her mind consumed by thoughts of Frederick.

"Why can't I find him?" she wondered. "What if he's been searching for me too?" As she stepped through the door, the hope of seeing him again ignited a flicker of courage within her. She needed answers, not just about the boy who had danced with her so long ago, but about her own heart.

Dominic walked toward the table and picked up the brown envelope. "Don't forget this…" he said, watching as Evangeline suddenly halted in her tracks and turned to face him.

"What is this?" she asked, glaring at him with fiery determination.

"This is the guest list for the anniversary next week," he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. "It includes the guests who will be excluded, so you can decide who to invite. We'll also need to send letters of apology for the late invitations, explaining the reasons why…"

As he spoke, Evangeline limped toward him, her expression a mixture of anger and determination. She was clearly in pain, but she refused to show it. Dominic pretended not to notice, keeping his face neutral, though a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes.

"Don't forget to prepare well. You'll be the special host, and I'm looking forward to seeing you in the bedroom…" Before he could finish his sentence, Evangeline yanked the envelope from his hand, her face a mask of indignation, and slammed the door behind her.

As the door clicked shut, Dominic couldn't help but scoff, a smirk creeping onto his face. It reminded him of that night at the masked ball when he had smiled at her during their dance. "If only she recognized me now," he thought, shaking his head with an amused chuckle. The idea of Evangeline, all fiery and dramatic, was both entertaining and charming, and he found himself hoping she wouldn't stay angry for long.