Lost In The Past

His eyes met mine, and for a moment, the world stilled.

Is that him?

The Noachus in María's note?

I couldn't move. My feet stayed planted on the polished floor, my heart hammering so loudly I swore he could hear it. He stood at the end of the corridor, his posture effortless yet rigid—like someone who had been raised knowing every move he made would be scrutinized.

His coat was deep charcoal, the embroidery along the edges subtle but expensive. His cravat was tied neatly at his throat, framing his sharp jawline.

Something about him pulled me in.

This is him, I thought. It has to be.

And yet… something didn't fit.

His gaze on me was unreadable. His lips parted slightly, but he didn't say anything.

Should I speak first? Would María have spoken first? What was I supposed to say?

I forced myself to take a step forward, then another. The sound of my skirts brushing against the floor filled the silence between us.

"Um—" I started, then stopped. No, that's not right. Not how María would talk.

I swallowed. "It… has been some time."

His brows lifted just slightly, as if the words surprised him.

"You do not usually stumble over your words, Lady Salviari." His voice was smooth, refined. A voice meant to command attention.

I stiffened. That wasn't the reaction I expected.

"I guess I'm just—" I hesitated, searching for something María might say. "Distracted."

His lips twitched, but the expression never fully formed into a smile. "Understandable. The evening ahead is of great importance."

I nodded, pretending I knew exactly what he meant.

Then, just as I was about to ask him something—anything—to confirm that he was the Noachus from María's letter, another voice cut through the air.

"You seem awfully tense, María." A different man stepped out from the adjacent corridor, his presence just as commanding but completely different in energy.

He was slightly taller. His black hair is a messy, layered cut with jagged ends, effortlessly tousled yet stylish.

He has a dark, brooding, and intimidating presence, like someone who doesn't talk much but carries a lot of depth beneath the surface, and a sharpness to his features that made him look as if he was always two steps ahead of everyone else.

His clothes were just as finely tailored, but there was an ease to the way he carried himself—like someone who belonged in any room he walked into.

His gaze flicked between me and the man I had been speaking to.

I felt my stomach drop.

Wait. If this guy knows me too…

That means—

The first man—the one with dark and almond-shaped eyes—tilted his head slightly. "She claims she is merely distracted."

"Is that so, Grey?" The black-haired man smirked. "Then allow me to ease your mind." He turned to me, offering a small bow. "Noachus Reganus Elisaldi, at your service."

Grey? I had just mistaken the wrong man for María's secret love.

I tried to school my expression, but my heart was racing.

So this is Noachus.

He is strikingly handsome, with piercing grey eyes that seem both cold and observant. His straight, well-defined nose sharpens his chiseled features, while his fair, smooth skin enhances his mysterious allure. Tall and lean, his toned physique speaks of natural strength rather than vanity, adding to his quiet, commanding presence.

I glanced back at Grey, the one I had been convinced was Noachus, and a realization slammed into me like a tidal wave.

Before I could react, another movement caught my attention.

A shadow, lingering just beyond the corridor.

I turned my head slightly—and my breath caught.

Ambrielle.

She was standing there, half-hidden by the flickering candlelight, her posture poised as always. But she wasn't moving. She wasn't speaking.

She was just watching.

I don't know how long she had been standing there, but something about the way she observed the exchange made me uneasy.

I turned back to Grey Ivor, who was still watching me with that sharp, knowing gaze. He glanced at Ambrielle, then glanced at me.

"My lady," he said smoothly, his voice carrying the practiced elegance of a nobleman, "if you would excuse me for a moment. There is a matter I must discuss with your sister, Lady Ambrielle."

Before I could answer Grey dipped his head in acknowledgment before striding toward her, his movements effortlessly composed.

"María Georgiana," Noachus said slowly, taking my attention, his voice rich and steady. "You look... well."

I blinked. "Oh. Uh, thanks, I guess?"

His brow twitched. "You guess?"

Crap. Right. Old-timey people probably didn't say stuff like that.

"I mean—uh—thank you, good sir," I added, throwing in an awkward little curtsy for effect.

He just stared.

I immediately regretted the curtsy.

"You seem… different," he said after a pause.

"I—uh—yeah. Had a long night. Kinda... bumped my head," I lied, hoping it would explain why I was speaking like a modern-day teenager and not a refined 19th-century lady. "So, how are you, Noachus?"

A flicker of something passed over his face. Hurt? Annoyance? I wasn't sure.

"Have you truly forgotten me, then?" His voice was softer now, but there was something heavy behind his words.

I swallowed hard. "No! Of course not! You are… Noachus."

Say something. Anything.

"Lord… Noachus."

Silence.

He stared at me, completely baffled. "Lord… Noachus? Since when did you start addressing me so formal?"

Abort. Abort.

"No, wait! I meant… uh… Noachus. Right?"

His brows furrowed. "Oh? Have you taken to calling me Noachus now?"

Okay, cool.

He took a slow step closer, his gaze searching mine. "Something is amiss."

"You have no idea," I muttered under my breath.

He studied me for another moment before sighing. "Your father has summoned me to escort you to the gala. He deems it improper for you to arrive unaccompanied."

Gala. Right. The betrothal thing. The life-altering commitment I had absolutely no control over.

Awesome.

I forced a smile. "Yay. Fancy party. Love that."

His lips pressed into a thin line, like he was trying to figure out if I was mocking him. "Come. We mustn't tarry."

I bit back a groan and followed him down the hallway, mentally preparing myself for whatever fresh historical nonsense was about to unfold.

The ballroom was insane.

Glittering chandeliers cast golden light over the polished floors. Dozens of well-dressed noblemen and ladies waltzed gracefully, their laughter mingling with the sound of a live orchestra. The scent of fresh roses and expensive perfume filled the air.

It was like stepping into a scene from Pride and Prejudice.

I was way out of my league.

"Lady María!" A voice called from across the room.

I turned just as Claire Destienne Salviari—my supposed cousin—rushed toward me. She was beautiful, her porcelain skin contrasts beautifully with her fiery curls, framing upturned eyes that sparkle with mischief. Delicate side bangs soften her small, heart-shaped face, while her tall, slim frame exudes effortless grace.

She has a regal elegance aura that made her look like she belonged in a museum painting.

She just looked likee Klare.

"You arrived at last," Claire said, reaching for my hands. "I feared you might have vanished again."

"Yeah, well, I have a habit of… uh… vanishing."

Her expression faltered slightly. "You jest, surely."

"Oh. Yeah. Totally." I nodded quickly. "I'm just… y'know, in a goofy mood tonight."

She blinked. "Goofy?"

Noachus, standing beside me, pinched the bridge of his nose like he was already exhausted. "Lady María has been… unwell. She is not herself this evening."

Claire's gaze flickered between us before offering a small, uncertain smile. "Ah. Well, come, let us find Ambrielle. She was quite distressed over your absence earlier."

Great. Another sibling confrontation.

I sighed and let her drag me into the crowd.

I found Ambrielle near the center of the ballroom, deep in conversation with Grey Ivor.

The moment she spotted me, she excused herself and marched over, her eyes flashing with irritation.

"María," she said, her voice clipped. "What possessed you to act such character? What happened to the calm and elegant Lady María?"

"Lost," I deadpanned.

Silence.

Noachus coughed into his fist. Claire looked like she was trying to figure out if "lost" was a new disease.

I sighed. "I mean, uh… long story. Anyway, I'm here now, aren't I?"

Ambrielle inhaled sharply like she was summoning all her patience. "Very well. Just… try not to embarrass us tonight."

"Can't make any promises, but I'll do my best."

Before she could scold me further, another voice cut in—smooth, deep, and oddly familiar.

"I apologize for my tardiness earlier, Lady María."

I turned and found myself face to face with Grey Ivor.

I admit he was dangerously attractive. His posture was confident, relaxed, like he owned the entire room.

And judging by the way people subtly glanced at him, he just might.

"You must be pleased to see me again," He continued, his smirk widening.

I blinked. "Huh?"

"You are at a loss for words. I am flattered."

Oh. He was one of those guys.

I forced a smile. "Nah, I was just wondering if you always flirt like a Shakespeare villain or if it's just a special occasion."

The smirk faltered. Slightly.

Ambrielle gasped. Claire stifled a laugh. Noachus exhaled slowly, like he was reconsidering every life decision that led him to this moment.

Grey, however, recovered quickly. "You wound me, my lady," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "I merely came to request a dance."

I internally groaned. Dancing. With a guy who clearly thought he was God's gift to women.

But before I could reject him—

"I believe she is otherwise engaged," Noachus said smoothly, stepping beside me.

The tension in the air tripled.

Oh, fantastic. Exactly what I needed.

Grey arched a brow. "Is that so? But the Lady isn't engaged to you."

"Indeed." Noachus met his gaze evenly.

"But surely, you can show respect to the one to whom she is betrothed, which is a king, can you not?"

Grey chuckled, his gray eyes flickering between us. "As you wish, old friend."

With that, he bowed slightly and walked away, leaving a trail of intrigue behind him.

I crossed my arms. "Could you tell me what betrothal means? And whom am I betrothed to?"

Noachus stared at me, utterly lost. "I… what?"

"Never mind," I muttered.

Claire giggled. "You truly are different tonight, María."

I forced a grin. "Yup. Super different. Just… a whole new me."

"You are betrothed to King Severinus Duval III. It has been arranged for months now." He looked defeated. "You remember, do you not?"

I stared. "Severinus…"

The name meant nothing to me, but somehow it sent a chill down my spine.

Ambrielle sighed. "Truly, María, if this is another of your childish attempts to avoid your responsibilities, it is most unbecoming. King Severinus Duval is a man of status, wealth, and reputation. Father has secured a most advantageous match."

Advantageous.

I barely knew the guy, and I was supposed to marry him? Was this how María Georgiana had felt—trapped, desperate, drowning in decisions she didn't make?

"You do remember what is expected of you tonight, do you not?" Ambrielle pressed, her tone sharper now.