ALISTAIR KIRSTEN DE AVERILL
"Your Grace, have you ever been in love?"
My eyes darted on Louie, who was already intoxicated after downing a few shots.
He was shameless in nature, but it seemed like the alcohol thickened his face even more for him to be asking something personal. What a nosy fellow.
"No." I answered nonchalantly.
"That won't do, Your Grace." He draped his arm over my shoulder, momentarily forgetting about our social status. "When we return to the capital, ask for Princess Odette's hand in marriage."
I frowned. "Why should I?"
"Because she's the princess! Who else would suit an illustrious man like you?! If I had at least one of your balls, I would bed every woman in the empire all night!" My personal knight sulked.
My face crumpled. Louie, you piece of shit...
I ordered one of the knights to take him back to his room. He kept making a fuss about how he was so terrified during the war, not necessarily because he might die, but because he might die a virgin. He tried hard to stay alive just to get laid.
Love, he says. What nonsense.
It's not like I have never thought of it before. I, for one, was raised in a warm ducal household in the faded north. My parents were mutually in love.
Growing up with an affectionate father and a kind mother, I also learned how to love and to be loved.
However, for someone like me who was born with a huge responsibility on his shoulders, love is both a risk and a weak spot. That's what it meant to be the only heir of a ducal family.
"Love, huh?" I smiled to myself. "How foolish."
That's how I thought my whole life.
Until I met her, that is.
"Greetings, Grand Duke Averill." Edward, the head butler of the palace, welcomed. "I'm relieved that you've arrived safely at the palace, Your Grace."
"It's been a while, Edward." A small smile crossed my lips. "You shouldn't have went out of your way to greet me like this. I know everyone is busy with the banquet's preparations."
"Nonsense. The Averill duchy is the shield that protects the empire." The head butler bowed and placed a hand on his chest. "Such courtesy is only right and necessary."
I gently patted Edward on the shoulder.
Suddenly, a certain lady caught my eye. Her blonde hair protruded among the servants, earning my irk. It's a colour I heavily dislike.
"As per my usual request, please refrain from sending me maids with blonde hair." I stated while eyeing the maid who had her gaze down.
"Understood, Your Grace." Edward assented.
As I walked past the blonde servant, a part of my heart ached in recollection. That girl was blonde.
Callista was blonde, too.
She was a child that I briefly met in the past, someone who changed my life with a mere fleeting encounter during my childhood.
I dislike blonde hair because of her, and she is also the cause of my nightmares about fire every night.
How infuriating, Callie. You are no longer in this world, yet you have so much control in my life.
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YOU ARE READING
Every Arc Ends with My Death
Historical FictionFor an extra inside a novel, there is no concept of life and death, and the clock never stops ticking with or without them. That's what Callista had to learn the hard way when she got transmigrated as an extra inside the last novel she was reading...
