When Frey and Vayne were searching for that demon…
Was the demon watching them, too?
The suspicion made Frey uneasy.
And when she thought about Vayne's recent changes—her rapidly growing strength, and the way her personality had become colder and more ruthless—
Frey couldn't shake a bad feeling.
Now, after finishing that record, she finally understood where that worry was coming from.
Before she ever met Vayne, Frey had traveled across Runeterra in search of power for revenge.
During that time, she tried anything that might make her stronger.
Naturally, she'd also studied dark power in depth.
Over the years, she'd learned countless things about dark magic, summoning vicious beasts, and evil curses, and she'd memorized all of it.
At first, she approached it to fight darkness—not to use it.
The more she understood dark power, the better her odds would be when she faced it.
Until one day, in a desperate fight against a troll, the creature's twisted face split into a wild grin as it raised a massive wooden hammer.
There was no doubt that in the next second, she would be smashed into pulp.
And as that image flashed through her mind, she instinctively spoke a black-magic incantation.
The magic inside her surged at once, dark power pouring out.
The troll died under the assault of black magic—and Frey, for the first time, experienced its strength from her own perspective.
So, in pursuit of even greater power for revenge, she began using dark forces more and more during her travels.
She knew perfectly well she hadn't "fallen."
She liked the feeling of gaining power. She liked the feeling of hunting dark creatures.
Before her family was murdered, she'd been a tribal shaman, naturally talented with magic.
So dark magic came to her even more easily.
Over time, she barely used normal methods at all.
Bit by bit, she became the very thing she once hated most: a dark mage.
And to hunt trolls and dark creatures more efficiently, she even offered her own body to darkness.
After that, she became a shapeshifter.
Naturally, her power grew even stronger.
The hunting continued, and along the way, without even realizing it, her mind had been affected by darkness.
Once, while tracking a demon, she nearly lost control after transforming—and almost bit a little girl from an ordinary family to death.
When she came back to herself and saw the child's small face—so terrified she couldn't even cry—Frey was stunned.
Afterward, she looked at herself for the first time with clear eyes.
And she realized the person who once hated darkness with every breath was now steeped in it.
She even felt disgust toward herself.
She understood that if she kept going, sooner or later, her body would be completely claimed by darkness.
From that moment on, she swore she would never use dark power again.
No matter what danger she faced, she would rather die than feel that sensation of being controlled by darkness ever again.
She fought through hardship after hardship.
But every moment, she suffered under the temptation of dark power.
It was like poison. Like an addiction.
It seeped into every cell in her body, clung to the deepest part of her mind.
Then she met Vayne.
A young girl whose eyes burned with the same vengeance Frey once carried—her face still unmistakably young.
Her thin, lonely figure trembled in the blizzard, but the belief blazing in her gaze kept her standing.
She begged Frey to take her as a student.
And she even proposed that ridiculous duel.
But every time she was beaten down, she stood back up again—stubborn, unbroken—and in the end, Frey was moved.
So Frey took her in.
At first, it was only because she didn't want to watch the girl die in the snow, and having an extra pair of hands around wasn't a bad thing.
But across many freezing nights—when Frey was wracked with the aftereffects of temptation, and the girl wept in her sleep from the tragedy of her family—
When the two of them leaned against each other for warmth—
Frey realized her heart had started to cling to this girl who was about the age of her own child would've been.
She and Vayne were both pitiful people who had lost what they loved most.
Frey understood Vayne, and she knew the child's hatred for darkness was even fiercer than Frey's had been back then.
And because of that…
Frey couldn't bring herself to tell Vayne about her own past.
Now, it was too late for easy words.
She didn't even know how to begin.
And Vayne's current condition made Frey think of herself—the first time she stood before dark power.
After reading the record, a cruel curse came to Frey's mind—one that matched Vayne's situation almost perfectly.
It was something Vayne herself wouldn't be able to notice.
And if His Highness hadn't shown her that record today, Frey might not have noticed either.
She couldn't help thinking about Luke—the mysterious Demacian prince.
Had he already seen something?
Then she began to weigh whether she should tell Vayne at all.
After a long time, she decided it would be better to speak with His Highness first.
In the afternoon…
Frey sought Luke out alone.
He was stretched out on a lounge chair in the sun, eyes closed, one leg crossed over the other, expression calm—completely at ease.
Hearing footsteps, Luke opened his eyes and immediately saw Frey approaching, her brow tightly knit like she couldn't relax it.
He sat up and made room.
Frey sat down and said, "I finished the information you showed me."
"Yeah?" Luke asked. "Was it what you needed?"
"There's definitely a lead on that demon," Frey nodded, then sighed. "But after reading it, I suddenly feel like… continuing to dig right now might not be a good thing."
Her tone carried the weight of someone who'd glimpsed something unpleasantly clear.
It wasn't that she wanted to give up.
It was that she had to consider the reality of her and Vayne's current strength.
Even if they tracked the demon down… could the two of them actually kill it?
A demon that had plagued the world for who knew how many years.
No one knew what its true strength was.
And Vayne's situation was unstable.
That was what worried Frey most.
Seeing the way she hesitated, Luke asked, "Is there something you want to say?"
Frey wavered, but finally said it. "His Highness should have noticed Vayne's recent changes. But it wasn't until I read that record that I understood the reason."
"I suspect… there's dark power planted inside that child."
Luke looked thoughtful, expression unchanged, and waited for her to continue.
Frey went on. "While traveling Runeterra, I learned about a lost dark curse called the Heart-Eater Demon Seed. The caster plants a 'seed' inside the target.
"The seed keeps sprouting over time, growing like a tree.
"And what feeds it—what makes it grow—is the host's negative emotions. The more negative emotions there are, the faster it grows.
"When it fully matures, the demon seed returns power to the caster. Usually, the caster uses it to gain tremendous strength."
After hearing that, Luke felt like the whole thing sounded like a parasitic curse—something designed to be planted and harvested.
Frey's meaning was obvious: Vayne might have been infected.
Her recent changes were the result.
Luke thought for a moment and asked, "Does it make the host stronger, too?"
Frey explained, "It's like a passive dark spell. It grants the host power, but it also brings an extreme addiction—dragging the host in until they can't pull themselves out."
Luke asked again, "And when it finally returns to the caster… what happens to the host?"
"If nothing unexpected happens," Frey said grimly, "they die."
To be honest, she didn't truly know.
Her understanding of the Heart-Eater Demon Seed came from a written account—nothing more.
That account said the curse was something humans learned from an unknown creature.
So after reading about that demon, Frey immediately thought of it.
The curse had been lost for ages.
But the Shadow God cult's elder had said that demon had lived for an unfathomably long time.
If it was that demon… it might still possess the curse.
It was even possible that the curse had originated from it in the first place.
Either way, it meant the demon's power was anything but ordinary.
Luke's eyes flickered. "How can you confirm it?"
"I have a way." Frey looked at him and gave a bitter smile. "Has Your Highness already noticed… my secret?"
Luke's expression didn't move.
He smiled lightly. "I noticed some of it."
Frey had an abnormally sharp "nose" for darkness. Often, she sensed dark presence before anyone else.
That wasn't just experience from being a demon hunter.
It was because she understood these things too well.
And from Luke's so-called "seer's" perspective, he'd known from their first meeting.
Frey was a dark mage.
Frey wasn't surprised by his answer. Once it was confirmed, it felt like a stone in her chest finally fell away.
Whenever she met this prince's eyes, she always felt like she was being seen through.
Now she looked forward and sighed. "To confirm whether Vayne has the Heart-Eater Demon Seed, I'll need a bit of Your Highness's help."
Luke nodded. "What do you want to do?"
Frey lifted her head, eyes firm. "I know a dark spell called the Carveheart Hex. It lets me observe Vayne's mind. It will hurt her—she'll feel pain during the process—but I have to do it."
She had once sworn never to use dark magic again.
But for Vayne, she was willing to break that vow.
Better a brief pain now than long-term torment later.
Luke understood. After thinking, he said, "I'll help."
Frey smiled. "Thank you, Your Highness."
"Don't thank me," Luke said, glancing at her as he stood. "I'm a Demacian prince, and you're about to show black magic right in front of me."
Frey laughed helplessly. "If you decide to arrest me afterward, I'll accept it."
Honestly, even she thought it was strange.
This was Demacia—a country that banned magic, and especially outlawed dark magic with brutal severity.
And yet here she was, admitting to a prince that she could use dark magic.
Normally, it wouldn't be shocking if she ended up thrown into a Mageseeker dungeon on the spot.
But for some reason, Frey trusted Luke not to do that.
This prince's attitude toward magic seemed… different from most Demacians.
In his eyes, it was almost as ordinary as breathing.
As evening deepened…
The four of them returned to the small courtyard.
Cithria didn't follow them anymore—Luke allowed it. The danger had passed, and there was no reason to keep wasting her time.
Quinn returned to the ranger camp to say goodbye to the comrades she'd befriended, and to pass Luke's orders to the ranger captain.
After all, as a soldier in the ranger corps, she couldn't just vanish without explanation.
With the two girls gone…
Luke prepared dinner for only four people.
Yurna preferred to eat alone in quiet, a habit she'd built long ago, and everyone around her had grown used to it.
So at the table, there were only Luke, Vayne, and Frey.
"Tomorrow I'm returning to the capital, and we'll be parting for a while," Luke said. "So I suggest a toast."
He brought out a small jug of sweet wine as he spoke and poured three cups.
Then he raised his cup and tipped his gaze toward the two of them.
Frey raised hers cooperatively.
That left Vayne.
Vayne looked at the two of them. She didn't want to play along with something this pointless, but under their staring, she picked up her cup anyway.
The three cups clinked softly.
Luke tilted his head back and finished first.
Then Frey and Vayne followed.
The sweet wine slid down Vayne's throat and brought back a feeling she hadn't had in a long time. She remembered drinking a lot on the first day she arrived.
It was this same taste.
Sweet and fragrant—one sip left a lingering warmth on the lips, and it didn't grow unpleasant no matter how much you drank.
The moment she finished one cup, Luke grinned and poured her another.
Vayne glanced at him, said nothing, and drank it in one go.
She barely set the cup down before a third was filled.
This time, she frowned slightly, shot him a look, and drank again.
Then came the fourth.
Vayne finally couldn't stand it. She frowned, face dark, staring at Luke's cheerful grin. "On the last night before we part, you're trying to get me drunk—what exactly are you plotting?"
He wasn't doing anything else. He just kept topping off her cup.
It felt suspicious.
Luke asked, "And what do you think I'm plotting?"
Vayne didn't expect him to throw the question back at her. She gave him an annoyed sideways look, refused to answer, and drank the fourth cup anyway.
She didn't want to spend the last day arguing with him.
Then, seeing him lift the jug again, she snapped, "Stop pouring."
Luke set the jug down, smiling, picked up his chopsticks, and put some food in Vayne's bowl. "Fine, don't drink. Eat more. The asparagus is fresh-picked and sautéed—really good."
Vayne stared at him for a long moment, then couldn't help saying, "Can you act normal?"
Since when did this guy ever serve her food?
Now she was questioning his motives even more.
Everything felt off.
Luke pulled his hand back and sighed with a melancholy look. "We're about to part. I'm just… feeling reluctant."
Vayne looked at him strangely.
Luke continued. "Don't get me wrong. I act like I don't care about anything, like I'm always carefree. But really, I'm very loyal to my bonds. I'll be honest—with how we've gotten along lately, I already consider you a friend."
Vayne froze slightly, a thought stirring in her chest.
A friend…
She felt like she hadn't heard that word in a very long time.
Ever since those people looked at her like she was insane and started avoiding her, it was like the word had vanished from her world.
Now, watching Luke speak like he meant it, Vayne felt something she didn't know what to do with.
These past few days…
She tried to remember—but she couldn't recall any "good memories" with him.
She recalled plenty of bad ones.
Seriously…
She'd basically spent the entire time either being angry, or on her way to being angry.
In just a few short days, it felt like she'd used up an entire lifetime's worth of patience.
And with that thought, the tiny bit of warmth that had surfaced in her chest evaporated instantly.
She even started looking forward to being far away from him.
Seeing him take another sip and prepare to keep talking with that sentimental expression—
Vayne picked up her chopsticks, shoved a few bites into his bowl, and said flatly, "Here. Hopefully that blocks your mouth. Stop talking."
If he kept going, she'd lose the appetite to eat at all.
After that, she quietly ate from her own bowl.
And then she saw it—
Luke began picking out every piece of food she'd put into his bowl, one by one.
Vayne's brows snapped together. "What are you doing?"
Luke, caught, quickly explained, "Don't misunderstand. It's not that I'm disgusted or anything. I just don't happen to like these dishes."
Vayne's mouth twitched as she fought down the surge of anger. "Do you cook dishes you don't like?"
Luke answered honestly, "Nope."
Vayne: "…"
Great. Her good mood died right there.
Heat flared straight up from her chest.
She stared at him like she wanted to fling those dishes into his face.
So this wasn't "disgusted," huh?
What's that supposed to mean?
Huh?
I never complained about you—and now you've got the nerve to complain about me?!
Vayne clenched her teeth. If she could, she'd pull out her crossbow right now and let him experience what "ice-cold to the core" really felt like.
Staring at Luke, Vayne gave him a smile full of killing intent. "Wasting food is bad."
Luke thought about it and decided she was right.
So he took all the food he'd picked out and dumped it back into Vayne's bowl. "Then I'll leave it to you."
Vayne: "…"
She looked down at her bowl.
Her fists clenched so hard her whole body trembled with rage.
At that moment, Frey—who'd been watching silently the whole time—added a couple more bites into Vayne's bowl and smiled. "Eat. Have some more."
Her teacher's concern was at least normal.
Vayne didn't look at Luke again. If she did, she feared she'd explode on the spot and finally lose it.
So the dinner ended—very "pleasantly"—in that kind of atmosphere.
After dinner, Frey went to wash the dishes as usual.
Vayne noticed her teacher hadn't eaten much today—only a few bites.
Maybe tomorrow's separation was affecting her mood.
Meanwhile, Vayne had eaten quite a lot. Her stomach felt a little too full.
Now she stood in the courtyard and immediately saw Luke sprawled on that chair again the moment he finished eating.
The courtyard's gentle lamplight fell across his face, making him look even more relaxed.
In the night, even Vayne—just looking at him—felt a strange quiet settle in her chest.
If this guy didn't open his mouth, he really was a decent piece of scenery.
After thinking for a moment, she walked over and—rarely—spoke first.
"You just lie around like this all day. Don't you get bored?"
Luke opened his eyes. His gaze was lazy, and he smiled. "Why would I get bored enjoying life?"
Then he stood up.
"Besides," he added, "when you've eaten and drunk your fill, you lie here, the breeze hits you… it's genuinely comfortable."
Noticing the look in Vayne's eyes, he chuckled. "Don't believe me? Try it."
To be honest, Vayne had been curious for a while.
Every day he did nothing but flop down here—like he and this chair were glued together.
Was it really that magical?
So she tried it, lowering herself onto the chair.
She could almost feel the lingering warmth from where Luke had been lying, and she caught a faint trace of his scent.
There was a soft cushion, so it didn't feel hard at all. It was plush—surprisingly comfortable.
Then she realized that with the smallest shift of her body, the chair began rocking gently up and down.
The motion wasn't strong—just a mild sway—like being held in someone's arms.
A lazy feeling seeped out from inside her, loosening her whole body until she didn't want to move at all.
It really did have a strange kind of "magic."
Her mind relaxed in an almost unfamiliar way.
Then the breeze brushed across her face.
Vayne suddenly thought…
Maybe she'd never felt this at ease before.
Without realizing it, drowsiness crept in.
For the past two years, because closing her eyes meant reliving that nightmare again and again, Vayne rarely felt safe when she was about to sleep.
But right now, she realized she didn't want to think about anything at all.
There was a steadiness in her chest.
Not long after, faint snoring rose from the rocking chair.
Luke walked around to the front, took one look, and said, "That's about right. She's asleep."
Frey, now prepared, came out as well.
Luke studied Vayne's sleeping face. On that normally cold expression, there was a quiet peace—so subtle it was almost hard to see.
She looked like she was sleeping deeply, the corners of her lips slightly lifted, like she was a different person.
He couldn't help smiling. "She's actually pretty cute when she's asleep."
Frey came closer, looked too, and smiled in agreement.
After thinking, she asked curiously, "Did Your Highness put something in those dishes?"
Luke shook his head. "No. That wouldn't kick in that fast. Besides, you and I ate too. I put a sleeping draught in her water an hour ago."
Frey froze. "Then why were you always putting food in her bowl?"
Luke smiled. "I just wanted to mess with her."
Frey: "…"
With Luke's twisted sense of fun, she couldn't even say she was surprised.
But seriously—why not say that earlier?
She'd thought the food was drugged and didn't dare eat much.
What Frey needed Luke's help with was simple: keep Vayne asleep for a while—ideally without her feeling pain or waking up.
Coming to Luke for that was clearly the right move.
He'd used a sleeping draught, ensuring Vayne would sleep comfortably and feel nothing.
"Then… I'm going to begin," Frey said softly.
She crouched beside the rocking chair and looked at Vayne with gentle eyes.
Slowly, she placed her hand over Vayne's chest.
In the next moment, Frey's presence changed sharply.
A thread of dark aura began to seep from her, spreading in fine strands.
Even though she hadn't used dark magic in a long time, it was carved into her body's memory.
With a single thought, it returned.
Frey opened her mouth and murmured a few incantations, drawing on her magic. The power formed into a patterned flow, gathering into her palm.
Her arm began to glow with a light laced in dark magic.
Then it sank into Vayne's chest.
In the next second, Frey's consciousness entered as well.
Vayne was sleeping too deeply, with no defenses at all.
Frey moved smoothly, pushing toward the deeper layers of Vayne's mind.
But it didn't take long before a heart-wrenching pain struck her.
This was Vayne's pain.
The Carveheart Hex could probe a person's heart—and it could also make you feel the emotions inside it.
Frey could have blocked the sensation.
But she didn't.
She understood: she'd only stepped into a small corner of Vayne's heart, and already it felt like a labyrinth of cracks.
The deeper she went, the more intense the pain became.
A pain of the mind—so sharp it seemed to echo into the body.
Then came fragments of memory—only fragments, and some were blurred.
In the memories, Vayne laughed brightly. Beside her stood a man and a woman—her parents.
They ate together, attended banquets together, went on outings beyond the city, raised a small pet in a modest little manor.
They pouted, they argued, they made up quickly. They leaned into each other, close and warm.
Here, Frey saw Vayne's laughter—real laughter—something Vayne had never shown in waking life.
She saw a smile on Vayne's face that had never bloomed in the present.
And yet every fragment that flashed past only made the pain worse—like Vayne's heart was being torn apart again and again, ripped into pieces.
These beautiful memories, the ones this child treasured most…
Were now the very thing that tormented her without end.
Frey hadn't blocked the emotions.
So the tearing grief and agony flooding through her now—
That was what Vayne lived with.
This was what the child endured every day without showing it.
Frey knew the feeling too well. She had experienced it once—and she had clawed her way out.
But Vayne hadn't.
When it happened to her, she was only sixteen.
She hadn't escaped it—she'd been trapped by it, wrapped in those fragments like countless tendrils, unable to move.
As the pain rose, the tendrils tightened, tighter and tighter.
Frey's heart ached.
She forced herself to endure the agony that had almost reached her limit, and continued deeper.
Soon, she saw herself.
Fragments of her life with Vayne.
The pain eased somewhat—but it was still there, still heavy, still hard to bear.
And along with it came a deep unease.
Not Frey's unease.
Vayne's.
In the past, Frey had never stepped into the child's heart, so she hadn't understood.
But now she did.
In the memories, there were moments where Frey taught Vayne basic knowledge of darkness, trying to help her fight it better.
Vayne didn't understand why Frey knew so much about dark magic and its methods.
Vayne didn't want to think about it.
So she avoided it.
And that avoidance became a quiet ache inside her.
Frey felt that ache firsthand.
And at this point, Frey finally understood how great a mistake she'd made by hesitating all those times.
Regret surged in her.
She should have told Vayne sooner.
She should have confessed everything sooner.
Frey pressed deeper still, into the deepest core of Vayne's heart—and her eyes widened.
There, a black tree several meters tall had taken root.
Beneath it writhed twisted, grotesque roots, constantly venting dark mist.
Those roots extended from here into every single memory fragment, spreading their influence.
Frey felt as if she'd stepped into an ice cavern.
The cold was far worse than anything she'd endured in Freljord's blizzards—dozens of times more intense.
All of Vayne's suppressed emotions from the past two years had accumulated here into something terrifying.
Frey hadn't even approached it, and already—standing where she was—she felt suffocated by pressure, like she couldn't breathe.
She couldn't imagine what would happen if those emotions ever erupted.
She didn't dare think further.
And she didn't want to take another step.
There was no doubt.
This was the Heart-Eater Demon Seed.
That demon had planted this thing inside the child—feeding endlessly on her pain.
Rage surged through Frey.
She moved forward, intending to destroy the demon seed outright.
But the instant she got close, a horrific force blasted her away.
Then the roots—like they had a will of their own—jerked up and slammed down toward her.
At that moment, Frey felt a hand pat her shoulder.
She jolted awake, gasping, sucking in air in huge gulps, her forehead drenched in sweat.
"You okay?" Luke asked, looking at her. "Your expression was really off, so I woke you."
Frey panted like she'd run for miles. "I'm fine. You woke me at the perfect time…"
Luke asked curiously, "What did you see in there?"
"The Heart-Eater Demon Seed…" Frey recalled that tearing pain and crushing pressure, and it felt like it surged back up again.
Her face went paler as she continued, "A Heart-Eater Demon Seed that's… almost fully formed."
Luke turned his thoughtful gaze to Vayne's sleeping face.
If that was true, then Frey's suspicion was real.
So the reason the demon didn't kill Vayne back then—and instead spared her—
Was clearly because it wanted an endless supply of pain harvested from her.
And in subtle ways, the demon seed had also changed her.
Luke came back from his thoughts and asked, "Since we've confirmed it, do you have a solution?"
"The Heart-Eater Demon Seed is a lost curse. It's been gone from Runeterra for who knows how many years. I only learned it existed by chance—how could I possibly know how to break it?" Frey sighed, troubled.
"I tried to remove it inside her heart. But I couldn't even get close. It counterattacked me. If you hadn't woken me just now, my consciousness might have been badly damaged."
She looked at Luke.
Before she could ask, Luke shook his head. "I don't have a way either."
If a dark mage couldn't solve it, then he—someone who didn't understand magic at all—definitely couldn't.
Luke asked, "This demon seed… it can't directly control her, can it?"
Frey shook her head. "Probably not. It's a curse meant to absorb and amplify negative emotions. At most, it influences the host to some degree. If it fully controlled the host, it would undermine the curse's original purpose."
Luke thought and said, "If it's an attack on the heart—like you said, it's affecting her mentality and personality—then we handle it from that angle. Find a way to steer her personality back."
During the Shadow God cult incident, Vayne ultimately hadn't delivered the killing blow to that cultist—proof the influence hadn't reached its worst point yet.
That meant there was still a window.
Frey sighed and looked at Luke. "That's the only option for now. But… how do we do it?"
Luke shot her an irritated look. "You're asking me that? Are you her teacher, or am I her teacher?"
Frey fell silent.
He had a point.
This was on her.
Thinking about the unease she'd felt inside Vayne's heart—
Frey made her decision. "Maybe… it's time I told her everything."
She understood now: her previous secrecy had been absolutely wrong.
She only hoped it wasn't too late to fix it.
Seeing her decide, Luke didn't speak further. He clasped his hands behind his back and strolled around the courtyard.
With the rocking chair occupied, he didn't know where to lie down.
He glanced over at Yurna, who was quietly reading, and felt amused.
As expected of his maid.
Even with a dark mage right there, she remained perfectly calm.
Very good. Extremely good.
The longer he spent with her, the more satisfied Luke became.
Strong, smart, hardworking, and never complaining.
Now he sat on the stone bench across from her.
Yurna read.
Luke watched her.
That refined, coldly beautiful face was the kind you never got tired of looking at.
Noticing his gaze, Yurna lifted her violet eyes, a trace of confusion inside them.
"It's nothing," Luke said with a wave and a grin. "Keep reading. I just realized that every time I see you, I sincerely think my taste is incredible. Truly—what a genius I am."
Yurna: "…"
For a moment, she couldn't tell if he was complimenting her or complimenting himself.
She really hadn't expected His Highness to find a way to be narcissistic even here.
It really was him.
After admiring himself for a moment, Luke stood, hands behind his back again, and resumed strolling around the courtyard with the air of an old gentleman.
He didn't notice—
The instant he turned away, a hint of a smile flashed in the maid's violet eyes, and the corner of her lips lifted.
The expression he'd always wanted to see on his usually expressionless maid.
That smile was breathtaking.
Unfortunately, no one saw it.
Luke wandered for a long while. When he looked back, Frey was still crouched beside the rocking chair, wearing a warm, mother-hen smile as she watched Vayne sleep.
Luke's forehead practically sprouted invisible black lines.
I've been pacing this long and you still don't get it?
Finally unable to take it, Luke called out, "If you can't stop staring, carry her to her room and stare all you want. Don't hog the shared space."
Hearing his annoyance, Frey finally realized why His Highness had been pacing the courtyard this whole time.
"Sorry, Your Highness."
She smiled awkwardly, lifted Vayne, and carried her into the room.
At last, they were gone.
Luke immediately dropped into the chair, blissfully comfortable, and lifted his gaze to admire the moonlight tonight.
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