Lysara was waiting by the front door before eight o'clock, glancing at the grandfather clock in the hallway every few moments despite telling herself she most certainly was not counting the seconds.
Precisely as the clock began to chime the hour, a dark grey Aston Martin swept quietly into the Ashwyn driveway.
Her mother smiled into her teacup. "I do appreciate punctuality."
Lysara tried very hard to smile as she opened the front door. She would find out tonight, she told herself. She would not leap into this marriage. She would make sure that it was right for her. That he felt the bond too.
Daevyn stood beneath the porch light, impossibly elegant in a charcoal three-piece suit and crisp white shirt. The evening breeze caught the loose strands of golden hair that had already escaped the black ribbon at the nape of his neck, and for one dangerous moment she remembered exactly how that ribbon had ended up on the grass beneath the oak the previous afternoon.
His smile widened. "Good evening, Lysara."
He stepped forward, brushing a courteous kiss across her cheek before lingering just long enough to breathe in. "You smell wonderful."
The warmth of his voice alone was enough to make her pulse stumble. "You've already established that you approve of my shampoo."
"I do." His smile became almost boyish. "I thought it deserved repeating."
She laughed despite herself.
"I hope you don't mind," he continued, offering her his arm, "but I'd like to make a small detour before dinner. There's somewhere I'd like to show you."
"I don't mind at all."
He opened the passenger door before circling to the driver's side, and within moments they were gliding quietly through the evening traffic.
Instead of heading towards the city, Daevyn followed the coastal road, lowering both windows so the cool sea air flowed through the cabin. The fading light turned the ocean into a sheet of hammered silver stretching endlessly towards the horizon, while the rhythmic crash of waves drifted through the open windows.
Sitting in silence would not help her learn about the man who wanted to marry her, Lysara decided. "I've always loved the sea.”
“Me too.” He smiled without taking his eyes from the road. He slowed the Aston Martin, turning into a gravel entrance overlooking a wide stretch of undeveloped coastal land. Beyond it, dunes rolled gently towards the sea, grasses bending in the evening breeze beneath a sky painted with the last colours of sunset.
"This," he said as he switched off the engine, "is why I wanted to bring you here."
Lysara studied the empty land. "It has a lovely view."
"It does." His eyes remained fixed on the view beyond the windscreen. "The family who owns it has decided to sell. They've held it for generations, but the estate has become too large for the next generation to maintain."
She looked across at him. “You plan to buy it?”
"I want the next generation of House Vale to inherit something stronger than memories. I wanted you to see this," he said slowly as if the words were hard to find, "because I don't want there to be any illusions between us." His gaze met hers. "My family has been experiencing financial… difficulties."
She felt her heart sink. Her father had been right.
“But, I am not my father,” his expression was earnest. “I will provide you with security. I am not a spendthrift, or a gambler. I thought it only fair to tell you that your family's contribution won't be squandered on maintaining appearances. I will invest wisely and with care. I will build our assets. Our children will not inherit debt and uncertainty.”
The words lingered between them.
Our children.
He spoke of them as though they already existed somewhere beyond the horizon, waiting patiently for the life he intended to build.
She could almost see them herself. Golden-haired little girls racing through the halls of House Vale. Boys with impossible green eyes climbing ancient trees in the palace gardens. Laughter echoing through rooms that had known silence for far too many years.
Her heart picked up, each beat seeming to say: Yes.
Daevyn started the engine, the Aston Martin purring quietly to life. "There is one other thing I think you should know. My solicitor has already begun preparing the preliminary marriage settlement."
Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Already.”
"I don’t believe in wasting time when I want something,” he told her firmly. His hands settled lightly on the steering wheel as he eased the car back onto the road.
Lysara sat in thoughtful silence as the coastline slipped away behind them.
The city lights gradually replaced the silver glow of the coastline as he guided the Aston Martin back into traffic. The scent of salt gave way to warm asphalt and the faint tang of petrol drifting through the open windows.
She studied his profile as he drove.
Even concentrating on the road, he looked as though some long-forgotten sculptor had carved him from marble.
"I'd like to paint you."
He glanced sideways. "Would you?"
"A figure study."
His eyebrows climbed. "Oh?" Colour rose unexpectedly into his cheeks before a grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. "I know just enough about art to suspect that doesn't usually involve very many clothes."
She laughed. "I promise I'm generally quite professional with my models."
"Generally?"
"Well..." She let the word hang mischievously between them.
He laughed outright. "That's either wonderfully reassuring or deeply alarming."
"Which are you hoping for?"
He considered the question for a heartbeat. "I'm reserving judgement until I see the studio." His smile lingered just long enough to make warmth bloom beneath her skin once more.
"Whenever you decide the time is right," he said, "I'll happily volunteer."
A few minutes later the Aston Martin swept beneath the lights outside one of the city's most exclusive private clubs, where an attendant stepped forward to open Lysara's door before Daevyn had even switched off the engine.
The flash of cameras greeted them before they reached the entrance.
Lysara blinked against the sudden bursts of light as discreetly dressed photographers captured the arrival of the evening's guests. Daevyn seemed entirely accustomed to it, offering only the smallest nod as they climbed the crimson carpet together, while she fought the absurd temptation to glance over her shoulder and check whether someone more important had arrived behind them.
The club itself rose above the boulevard in elegant Art Deco symmetry, its polished stone façade illuminated by rows of warm brass lanterns. Long geometric windows stretched towards the upper floors, while polished chrome caught the glow of the streetlamps, giving the entire building the glamour of another age.
She smiled. "I like this."
Daevyn glanced up at the building. "He hasn't tried to modernise it."
"No. The architecture, the lighting..." Her eyes travelled over the etched glass doors and polished brass fittings. "Even the signage belongs to the period. It feels..." She searched for the right word. "...respectful."
Inside, soft jazz drifted beneath the murmur of conversation. Crystal chandeliers reflected from polished marble floors, while guests in immaculate evening dress moved between intimate tables separated by lacquered screens and palms. It felt less like a nightclub than the glamorous hotels she had seen in old black-and-white films.
Daevyn inclined his head as an older couple approached.
"Lord and Lady Ashcombe."
"Daevyn."
The gentleman shook his hand warmly before turning towards Lysara.
"And this must be the young lady we've all heard so much about."
Lysara returned their smiles, accepting Lady Ashcombe's customary air kiss with only slightly less awkwardness than she had managed at the wedding.
"What a lovely gown," Lady Ashcombe said. "Ashwyn... now, where have I heard that name recently?"
"Theron Ashwyn," her husband supplied. "Human technology."
Recognition dawned immediately.
"Oh!" Lady Ashcombe laughed. "Of course. The gaming company."
"My father," Lysara confirmed.
"And why," Lady Ashcombe asked with cheerful curiosity, "have we never had the pleasure of meeting you before?"
"Lysara has spent the last several years living in the Human Realm," Daevyn answered before she could. "She was studying."
"Oh?"
Lady Ashcombe looked delighted.
"What did you study?"
"Art."
"How wonderfully impractical."
There wasn't a trace of malice in the remark.
Lysara smiled. "So my father keeps telling me."
The older couple laughed together.
As the conversation continued, Lysara became aware that Daevyn's attention had drifted.
His eyes had settled upon the stage where the evening's vocalist stood beneath a warm spotlight, her silver beaded gown shimmering with every movement as she sang into the vintage microphone.
The same singer from Niava's wedding.
Lysara’s heart sunk.
"Aurora," Lord Ashcombe observed, following Daevyn's gaze. "Quite extraordinary."
"So I've heard," Lady Ashcombe replied, with the faintest suggestion that she didn't entirely approve of quite how extraordinary everyone else seemed to find her.
"We should let you both enjoy your evening," Daevyn said smoothly, drawing his attention back to the conversation. "It's been lovely to see you."
He rested a light hand against the small of Lysara's back, guiding her deeper into the club.
"There." He nodded towards a secluded table tucked behind an elegant geometric screen.
"Sterling."
The gentleman stood as they approached and Lysara recognized him immediately from Niava's wedding.
Sterling Eastern smiled cooly as Daevyn introduced them.
"Lysara, allow me to introduce Lord Sterling Eastern and Princess Kaethriel."