“Your friend thought you might be thirsty. Won’t you stay and drink it?”

The Duke’s words still echoed in your ears long after the glass was empty. He hadn’t explained himself, hadn’t justified his sudden presence. He didn’t need to. That soft, knowing smile and the weight of his gaze said enough—that he was here for a reason, and for now, you were it.

When you finally stood to leave, expecting him to nod and go his own way, he rose too. No rush, no announcement—just that steady shadow falling in step beside you as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“I don’t need an escort,” you muttered, more to yourself than him.

“Maybe,” he replied smoothly, hands sliding into his gloves. “But I didn’t say I was asking.”

You shot him a look, half-annoyed, half-flustered, but he only smiled faintly, chin tilted toward the cobblestone path ahead. The streets of Fontaine were alive with the low hum of the evening, and yet with him beside you, it felt oddly quiet. Safe, even.

He didn’t fill the silence with needless chatter. Instead, his presence spoke for him—protective, watchful, though not suffocating. Every now and then, his shoulder brushed yours, deliberate in a way that made your heartbeat trip.

When the two of you reached your door, you turned, meaning to finally ask what this was all about. Why he’d sat at your table. Why he’d walked you home. Why he looked at you like he was memorizing you.

But he didn’t give you the chance. He reached past you, adjusting the lantern by your door, lighting it with practiced ease. The glow softened his sharp features, turning the fortress duke into something less untouchable.

“There,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “Better.”

You swallowed, unsure what part of him he meant—the lamp, or the way his eyes lingered on you before he finally stepped back.

“Goodnight,” he added, voice lower now, gentler. He didn’t bow, didn’t overplay it. He simply waited for you to slip inside, making sure you were safe before turning away.

And as you leaned against the door, your heart racing, you realized this wasn’t just business for him. Something had shifted.

The Duke of Fontaine didn’t just walk people home.

Not unless he wanted to again.