A Mad Dog Needs a Leash — Chapter 7

Honestly, his pride was wounded, and he simply could not accept the situation he was in.

It made no sense whatsoever. He was roughly twice her size, and yet here he was, terrified of her.

Yes.

Ezra was afraid. The moment he sensed that inexplicable aura radiating from Daisy—that woman—his entire body seized up with fear.

And that was despite her being so slight that he could snap her neck with a little effort.

Ezra had no intention of letting anyone discover the emotions and sensations he felt around Daisy. What would happen if his stepmother or the Emperor ever found out was beyond even his worst imaginings.

No one can ever find out.

He clenched his jaw and tightened his grip on both hands.

There would be no reason to see her again, after all.

Daisy, who knew nothing of Ezra's hopes, had been counting down the days to today—the day she would face him again.

After notifying the guild that she would not be joining them, she had moved to a place near the Grand Duke's residence.

Her professor worked his students ruthlessly, but he paid them well enough for it, and beyond rent there had been hardly any expenses throughout her academy life, so her savings—while meager—would cover the coming year. She planned to make up whatever shortfall by picking up odd jobs here and there.

"Good grief."

She had thrown out most of her belongings before moving, and yet the room somehow felt even smaller.

It was narrower than the place she'd rented near the academy, and on a lower floor, but there was nothing to be done about it.

Saving the world required a certain amount of sacrifice.

Why did it always have to be her doing this, and not the Grand Duke? Recalling the same grievance she had chewed over throughout every one of her regressions, Daisy let out yet another sigh.

Then she gathered her things and headed out.

The banquet was being held at the Count's estate today, so she had no time to stop by the Grand Duke's residence on the way.

Books had taught her nothing on the subject—ignorant as that sounded, she would simply have to experiment with her own body through direct contact. The texts never explained exactly how the bond between a Tamer and a summoned beast was formed, but at the very least, she knew it required spending a great deal of time together.

"Today, whatever it takes, I have to get a proper meeting with Ezra."

Daisy set out for the Witton County estate, determined not to be late.

Thanks to the shared carriage that carried hired staff out to the Witton estate in the suburbs, she arrived in good time.

Day laborers entered through the back gate rather than the front. Daisy received her uniform from the butler and a list of things to keep in mind.

Her assigned task was to carry and serve drinks. The work itself wasn't difficult—the trouble was that she'd have to converse with nobles.

After all, if some wine-flushed aristocrat kicked up a drunken scene, she would be the one left dealing with it.

"Use your head. Read the room."

That was the head maid's parting advice after handing out the assignments and instructions.

Holding up the luxurious fabric of the dress, Daisy mused:

How rich are they, that even the maids wear clothes like this?

Of course, she had no idea that Count Witton had commissioned such lavish uniforms precisely to cultivate that impression. Once she'd changed, she received a final round of instructions from the butler presiding over the entire banquet and was assigned to her station.

Her post was along the edges of the hall—clearly, they had placed the outside hires in a low-traffic area, wary that they might cause some mishap.

This is a problem.

Her corner was so out of the way that she would have a hard time crossing paths with Ezra.

She grumbled inwardly, but if he showed up, she would simply have to find a way to make time with him somehow.

Soon the guests began trickling in one by one, and Daisy grew busy. In the gaps between tasks, her eyes kept drifting to the entrance, checking whether the Grand Duke had arrived.

She was serving champagne to an elderly baron and his wife when it happened.

"Oh, my."

The old lady's eyes sparkled as she let out a soft gasp. Her reaction alone told Daisy that someone of note had appeared.

Daisy set down their champagne flutes with the warmest smile she could manage, but neither of them was looking at her or the drinks.

Hiding her expression, she turned. And there stood Ezra, the first proper look she'd gotten of him in weeks.

Honestly, he really is handsome.

Daisy studied him. It was only natural for eyes to drift toward beauty, regardless of age or gender.

All the more so when that beauty was unrivaled.

Hidden among the crowd of admiring onlookers, Daisy took her time examining Ezra. She wasn't the only one—most of the banquet hall was sneaking glances at him—so she decided she could afford to be a little bolder about it.

She was calmly drinking in the sight of him when, for one instant, their eyes met dead-on.

Daisy flicked her gaze away as if she'd merely glanced past him in passing. She was certain she had played the perfect stranger. She was wrong.

Contrary to Daisy's expectations, Ezra had picked her out of the crowd in a single instant.

That woman—here, of all places—!

Ezra had dealt with plenty of people chasing after him, but never anyone as skin-crawling as Daisy.

Come to think of it, maybe that collapse the other day had been his instincts sending a warning: you have just met a madwoman.

I can't leave this be.

When his finely honed senses screamed this violently that she must not be allowed anywhere near him, he had no choice but to listen.

"Your Highness, we are truly honored by your visit."

Count Witton came scurrying over the moment the Grand Duke arrived, fawning before him. The Grand Duke's mood had already soured, but out of consideration for the Count's dignity, he forced the corners of his mouth upward.

"You did extend an invitation. It was only proper that I come."

"Hahaha, of course, of course!"

Publicly speaking, Count Witton and the Grand Duke were quite close—he had fought alongside Ezra on his subjugation campaigns.

There were many reasons it was "publicly" only. But above all—

"We only just met recently, didn't we? This is my daughter, Alice."

"It is an honor to meet you, Grand Duke Ezra."

With a strained smile, Ezra turned to the woman the Count was introducing with a beaming face. Alice Witton was a beautiful woman.

With her long, abundant golden hair and deep blue eyes, she was dazzling enough to make one blink. Her reputation in high society was excellent as well—she was renowned for her gentle temperament, her graceful bearing, and her considerable talent as a poet.

Countless men had courted her, and she still ranked among the most sought-after brides in society.

But Ezra did not care for Alice in the least. She carried herself as though being chosen by him—as though he, Ezra, had chosen her—were some singular honor she had bestowed.

Alice was certainly accomplished, but Ezra did not like her. He had, after all, already turned down the feelings she had let subtly show last time.

A proud woman—he'd assumed that would be the end of it. He hadn't imagined she would reappear, dragging her father along in tow.

Honestly, how tiresome can one person be.

So he thought, glaring at Daisy, who was secretly observing him from across the hall.

Yes—it was all because he was simply too magnificent.

Ezra gathered himself and inclined his head in a light bow.

"The pleasure is mine, my lady."

Alice extended her hand with a haughty look, and Ezra arched an eyebrow and ignored it. There was no need for him to bend down and press a kiss to her knuckles.

Love him or hate him, he was a prince of the empire's noblest blood—he did not bow unless he wished to.

But an act like this was an insult on the level of spitting in someone's face.

Alice's long, lush lashes trembled. Count Witton, caught in the middle, rolled his eyes, at a complete loss.

The air around them chilled, but Ezra merely took a single step back, smile intact.

"Count, I hear you've grown some remarkable roses in your greenhouse. Might I see them?"

Feigning ignorance of the tension, Ezra offered up a topic they could both engage with. The Count, who had been floundering, nodded slowly.

"But of course. Let us go together at a suitable moment, later on."

"Then send for me when you have a moment. Ah—Sir Vince!"

Ezra greeted an acquaintance with practiced ease and slipped away.

The Count glanced at the daughter standing beside him and clicked his tongue softly.

"I told you, didn't I? That it wouldn't work."

The truth was, he too knew the Grand Duke's temperament all too well, and had tried to talk his daughter out of it.

But she had insisted with utter confidence that this match must be made to happen at all costs.

And yet here we are.

The Count avoided his daughter's venomous glare and heaved a deep sigh. Alice, however, was already plotting her next move.

Ezra extricated himself from the Count's side as if fleeing, then turned to search for Daisy. People kept trying to get a rise out of him from every direction, and it was grating on his nerves.

As his sunken gaze swept methodically across the banquet hall, it landed on Daisy setting down champagne flutes for the other guests.

He walked straight toward her, cutting through the crowd without hesitation.