CHAPTER 562: THE ROGUE AND THE UNFAVORED ONE

The palace garden was awash with afternoon light, every leaf glinting like polished jade. The scent of lilac and damp earth hung in the air as a group of women made their way along the marble path, their laughter scattering like birds. They rounded a corner too quickly—just as two women approached from the opposite direction.

There was a startled chorus of gasps. Silk skirts tangled, and before anyone could think to step aside, the two women collided with a slender woman in a yellow gown. The thud of body meeting the ground was followed by the soft crackle of crushed leaves and a few undignified yelps.

For a heartbeat, the garden fell silent except for the rustle of leaves above them.

"How dare you bump into me!" The woman in crimson—wide sleeves flaring like a bell—stared down at Rowana.

Rowana scrambled to her feet, skirts twisted around her ankles.

"It was clearly you two who bumped into me," Rowana snapped, forcing steadiness into her voice. "Don’t pin this on me."

Evita’s eyes narrowed into slits. When did this stupid sister of mine learn to speak like that? she thought, astonishment and anger prickling together. Rowana had always been shy—soft-spoken as a shadow—but now she stood upright and defiant, and that in itself felt like defiance.

Evita was the favored second daughter of the Earl of Donalton’s second wife. Privilege had taught her to expect obedience. "Sister, you’ve grown bold all of a sudden. What gives you the right to answer me?" Her cheeks flushed; her pride burned hotter than the early afternoon sunlight spilling through the gaps of the vine covering the trellis. She lifted her hand with a swift, practiced motion—an intent slap aimed at humiliation.

Rowana moved. Evita’s palm cut the air where her face had been, catching nothing. "How dare you dodge?" Evita hissed. "Seize her." Her command was crisp; three ladies-in-waiting closed around Rowana like a tightening net.

Evita swung her hand up again, fury coiled in the motion—when the world suddenly fractured into a flash and a pull. From the corner of her eye a glint streaked through the air; then a fierce tug at her sleeve. She lurched to the right and found herself slammed against the trellis pillar.

A high, panicked scream tore from her throat. The women restraining Rowana released their grip and swarmed to Evita’s side. Gasps rippled through the cluster like wind over dry leaves when they saw the dagger jutting from Evita’s sleeve, its tip embedded in the wood behind her.

"Who did this?" Her voice cracked and sharpened, fury suddenly mingled with fear. "Whoever it was, he will pay. I’ll tell Father!" Her words were a promise and a threat, dread and indignation braided into one as hands fumbled at the dagger and the air filled with stunned, terrified whispers.

A calm voice cut through the tension. "I did it."

Galahad stepped from behind the rockery, sunlight glinting off the silver thread of his doublet. The tight-fitting jacket traced the firm lines of his torso, while a few dark curls partially covered his forehead and cast a shadow at his brow. His jaw, dusted with stubble, lent him an air both rugged and dangerously composed.

Behind him stood his five brothers and several other male guests, their laughter and wine cups forgotten mid-toast. The small gathering of men, who were absorbed in a board game and easy conversation while waiting for the banquet, fell into uneasy silence.

Galahad’s long strides carried him swiftly across the garden until he stood before Rowana. When she lifted her gaze to meet his, she caught a fleeting glimmer of concern in his eyes—a momentary softness—before it hardened into indifference.

"Such a weakling," he murmured, voice low and scathing. "Still letting yourself be bullied? Remember your identity, Rowana."

Her face drained of color, then flushed scarlet with shame.

"Cough... cough."

The sound came from Asael, who had followed close behind. He tried to mask his discomfort with a forced cough and a polite smile.

This younger brother of mine... he thought. He scolds her when he actually cares, yet he makes it sound like an insult. No wonder he never wins a woman’s heart.

"Are you all right, Lady Rowana?" Asael asked softly, his tone gentle in contrast to his brother’s harshness.

"I–I’m fine, Duke," she stammered, curtsying hastily. Her pulse raced; to be addressed by the Duke of Arista himself was no small thing.

Asael was granted the nobility title of Duke, and his fiefdom was the central plains between Calma and the borders of Westalis. He was the first Duke of Azurverda. His wife, Arabella, the Duchess of Arista, was known for her grace and cunning—qualities Rowana suddenly wished she possessed in that moment.

"Don’t take my brother’s words to heart," Asael said with a faint, reassuring smile. "That’s simply his way of... showing concern."

Galahad shot him a glare but said nothing. He strode toward Evita, his expression unreadable, and with a single smooth motion retrieved his dagger from where it had struck—mere inches from her arm.

The women clustered behind Evita froze, caught between awe and terror at finding themselves before the mighty generals of the Norse family. Their shock was broken only when Galahad’s voice sliced through the hush.

"So this is what the noble daughters of this generation occupy themselves with—bullying others for amusement?" His tone was sharp, disdainful.

Evita’s cheeks flamed crimson. "It was only a misunderstanding, General. It won’t happen again," she said tightly, her voice trembling with forced civility.

But inside, her thoughts seethed. Is he protecting that wretched? Why—why in the gods’ name—did he throw the dagger at me?

Galahad stepped back and stopped before Rowana, his gaze steady. A faint flush still colored her cheeks.

"Sometime ago, I remember seeing you train with Orion’s disciples," he said, his tone deceptively light, though a quiet edge ran beneath it. "Why didn’t you use those moves against the ones who bullied you?"

Is he angry? Rowana wondered, her heart tightening.

"I... I..." she stammered. "I’ll remember next time.

Galahad lingered, as if expecting to hear more. When she remained silent, he took a few slow steps away.

"Thank you for standing up for me," Rowana murmured, her voice so soft it was nearly inaudible.

But Galahad heard. He paused, tilting his head slightly in acknowledgment before continuing toward the gathering beyond the rockery.