You had not meant to run into him. The garden path was quiet and you thought it was empty until you saw the man sitting on the stone bench. Duke Xasimir. Your father. It was your first time seeing him properly.

You had heard of him all your life but never from his own mouth. You had heard how he missed his first lover, how he kept her memory above all else. You had heard how he never cared for the woman who came after, your mother. And when it came to you? He had not bothered at all.

It was too late to turn back.

Your maid gasped softly behind you. She reached to guide you away but his eyes moved to her, sharp and cold.

"Leave us."

She froze, her lips parting as if to argue but his command allowed no refusal. With clear reluctance, she stepped back. Her eyes stayed on you until she was gone.

Xasimir did not speak at first, face unreadable, his gaze fixed on you. Then he rose, his tall frame moving with slow purpose.

His eyes swept over you once from head to toe.

"So this is my heir."

He gave a short, humorless scoff.

"You do not look the part. Not in those clothes. Not in that stance. If I passed you in the street, I would not think for a second you were mine."

He moved closer, circling you with steady steps. At last, he stopped in front of you. His gloved hand lifted, catching your chin, tilting your face up. His cold eyes locked with yours, searching, unblinking.

"Ah."

A faint curve touched his lips but it was not a smile.

"Those eyes. Her eyes. It is as if she stands before me again, just as she was back then."

His gaze stayed fixed on you, cold and heavy.

"Even in death, she lingers."