The Mad Dog Gets Detained
Confusion spread across Ezra's face. He had been so absorbed in the moment that he hadn't thought to look around him. From the instant he'd let that killing intent loose, the café's few remaining patrons had fled in terror to the first floor and told the owner there was a dangerous man upstairs. The owner, who happened to have connections in the capital's security force, had quickly dispatched her clerk to summon officers—which was how things had come to this.
The customers who had fled downstairs now stood huddled behind the security officers, pointing at Ezra and murmuring amongst themselves.
“He clamped a hand over the young lady's mouth the moment she tried to call for help, I'm telling you!”
“I saw it too. The poor thing was so frightened she was crying.”
The owner took Daisy—still sitting there in a daze—by the arm and tucked her protectively behind her.
Daisy blinked her wide eyes, calmly taking stock of exactly what kind of situation this was.
The officers advanced on Ezra with threatening strides.
“Pardon us, sir. We'll need your cooperation.”
“Would you care to tell us what your relationship is with this young lady?”
Watching the color surge and drain from Ezra's face in turn, Daisy breathed a private sigh of relief. The two officers took up positions on either side of him, seized an arm each, and hauled him bodily to his feet.
“We'll ask you to accompany us to the security center, sir.”
Genuinely flustered now, Ezra turned to look back at Daisy. She tilted her head away, carefully avoiding his eyes.
Everyone was being so helpful; it would hardly do to pour cold water over them now. For a man who had coasted through life on his looks and nothing but unconditional adoration, a shock like this was long overdue.
Daisy turned and bowed to the café owner.
“Thank you so much for your help.”
“Are you all right, dear? Goodness, in all my years I've never seen a man like that...”
The owner, a middle-aged woman, clasped Daisy's hands as she spoke, her eyes brimming with worry.
It had been so long since anyone had shown her such pure, uncalculated concern that something in Daisy's chest went tight.
“I'm fine, really. He isn't a bad person. It's just that things went wrong in his family, and it turned him sour, that's all.”
“You're young, so maybe you can't see it yet, but take it from me—that man is no good for you.”
“Thank you for worrying about me, truly. But our families know each other, so we do have to look after one another.”
At that, the owner nodded, seeming to grasp the gist of it.
The girl looked for all the world like a commoner, while that man's clothing was so fine that anyone could see he was some wealthy family's son. If the link was between their parents, it was most likely a master-and-servant arrangement. That poor girl's life must be anything but easy, she thought.
“If you ever find yourself needing help down the road, you come to me. I may not look it, but I'm well acquainted with a high-ranking officer in the security force—I can get things done for you.”
“Thank you. Truly.”
Daisy bowed again and again to the owner and the remaining customers before stepping out of the shop.
She made her slow way home, sinking deep into thought. Trust between her and Ezra mattered, yes—but she had no intention of spending the rest of her life walking on eggshells around him. What separated a human from a beast came down to one thing: manners. The Grand Duke, who had spent his entire life perched on high in aloof splendor, was nothing more than a beast wrapped in a beautiful shell.
Had she lived a life untouched by his, his manners—or lack thereof—would have been none of her concern. But now that his life had been forcibly lashed to hers in this godawful situation, Daisy had no choice but to shoulder the nuisance of civilizing him.
Isaac arrived utterly baffled, having received word from the security force. The man who had summoned him there was like no one he had ever seen.
“And you are...?”
The face was a stranger's, but the voice belonged to someone he knew! No—someone he knew far too well. A man he half-feared might crawl into his nightmares.
“Y-Your Highness?”
“Shh. Keep your voice down.”
Ezra glared daggers at him through clenched teeth. Isaac sidled closer and dropped his voice to a whisper.
“What in the world has happened? And why, of all places, are you here?”
“Don't ask. Just go in there, settle it nicely, and get me out.”
Seeing the look on his face, Isaac gave up on questioning him and could only approach the officers and plead his case. After promising them such an incident would never recur—and cajoling the openly revolted Grand Duke into signing a written pledge of good conduct—the two of them finally walked free of the center.
“What exactly happened between you and Miss Daisy?”
Isaac asked because it was only upon reading the incident report that he had learned this whole business involved Daisy at all. But Ezra clamped his mouth shut.
No one had ever brushed him aside this completely in his entire life, and Ezra was beside himself. He had assumed a little intimidation would bring her to heel at once; instead, Daisy had more nerve than he'd bargained for. How could anyone be so brazen?
This from the woman who had stalked him and fastened this wretched collar around his neck!
“The woman who chased me all over creation dares to heap this humiliation on me?”
Ezra was quite literally trembling with rage. Isaac, meanwhile, had wandered off into an entirely different line of thought.
“Has Miss Daisy perhaps gotten hold of some terrible secret about you—something you could never let a soul know?”
Bull's-eye. Ezra's jaw snapped shut. At that uncanny silence, Isaac very nearly lost his mind. But that wasn't what mattered now. He hurried to pass along the news he had only just received.
“More to the point, Your Highness, I've had word from House Witton. The Countess received a letter from the Count and rushed up to the capital—and afterward, she was granted a private audience with the Emperor.”
Ezra, still not entirely free of his earlier shock, barely gathered himself enough to speak.
“I remember my mother once saying the late Emperor left something in the keeping of House Witton. A wish-granting right, if I recall correctly.”
“They can't possibly mean to squander something that precious on marrying their daughter to you?”
Isaac asked, eyes wide with alarm.
Under ordinary circumstances, Ezra might have thought the same. But watching Daisy scale his wall in the dead of night and break in had taught him something: the madness a lovesick person is capable of stretches far, far beyond anything a sane mind could imagine!
Until now, unwilling to cross House Witton—heroes of the empire's founding—he had simply ignored them and left it at that. But having met Alice in person, he'd found her in a far worse state than he had ever imagined.
The Grand Duke shuddered, his face drained white. He disliked women of Daisy's stripe, but Alice he disliked far more. The look in her eyes regarded him not as a person but as a trophy. For all her proclamations of love, she might as well have been appraising which gem suited her best.
A family that could raise its darling daughter into that creature was no good family at all. Faced with binding himself to such a sinister house, even Daisy began to look preferable.
“Hm.”
Ezra stroked his chin, sinking into thought. Come to think of it, this bind of theirs might serve nicely for screwing the Emperor over. Naturally, screwing over Daisy would simply be a bonus.
On the day of the banquet, lacking a female partner to escort, Ezra opted to attend alongside Freya, the former Grand Duchess of Alkenes.
“Something pleasant happen to you today, I wonder?”
At his light probe, Freya wore a genuinely bewildered expression—and watching it, Ezra knew she'd had no hand in the affair. It was a relief that at least one person of House Alkenes hadn't betrayed him. Had trouble come from within his own household, nothing on earth would have given him a worse headache to untangle.
“What utter nonsense you're spouting.”
Under Ezra's unreadable gaze, Freya shivered. She had not borne him, true—but she had raised him with her own two hands for twenty-odd years, and still she couldn't begin to fathom what went on inside that head. She suspected she never would.
Freya ignored his stare and turned to gaze out of the carriage. No—she tried to. That is, until the strange ornament came into her view.
“You—you...”
“What could possibly be the matter, Mother?”
Faced with that perfectly composed, business-as-usual air, Freya opened her mouth—then shut it again. Yes, and what good would saying anything do? Trading words with Ezra only ever left her insides churning.
He'd improve, if only he were married.
Marriage and a child of his own would surely set him right. Freya wanted nothing more than to hand that nuisance off to somebody else!
Alice really had been such a fine match.
Ezra's temperament might be rotten to the core, but the passion and devotion the girl had shown had impressed even Freya. Unfortunately, with the recent accident having left one of her legs damaged, she had no choice but to give her up.
I have to get that boy off my hands, and soon.
With that thought, Freya stole a sidelong glance at Ezra. But the sight of the strange ornament fastened around his neck sent fury rising up and catching in her throat.
Could it actually be done? All Freya could do was pray that heaven would take pity on her.
But she did not know. Today's true suffering had not even begun.