The Duke's Imposter Sister

Chapter 13 – The Color of Yuliana’s Eyes (1)

Gris smelled blood–she had learned to run away from men reeking of alcohol, but blood?

No one had told her about such men.

Unsure what to do next, Gris bowed her head.

“I, I apologize, sir.”

He wasn’t at all curious why the girl fell into the lake or if she was unharmed.

A deep voice suddenly pierced the wind,

“Name.”

Wiping her wet face with her hand, Gris flinched as she heard his question. She was a guest of the Byrenhags. Every corner of the garden, every drop of the lake and every brick in the mansion belonged to him. It was only common courtesy to reveal her name to such a powerful man.

Somehow, her new name felt out of place. She hesitated to answer, but aware of this man and his soldiers in front of her, Gris resolutely said.

“Y…Yuliana, sir.”

The soldiers murmured with excitement. They had probably heard the news that Yuliana had returned.

Gris did not dare to face the crowd directly, with all of them staring at her.  She felt paralyzed and could only stare into the distance beyond the lake. She waited for Vianut to order her back to her room.

Despite what he had expected, Vianut was wordless and only looked at the girl drenched from head to toe, and shivering in the cold wind. Could he be trying to determine whether she was indeed his long-lost sister from all those years ago, or an upstart who sought his power and money?

Whatever the reason, Gris felt guilty; she was fooling everyone in the crowd surrounding her.

At that moment, he tugged his gloves off his hands with his teeth. He put his pale hands, as large as her face, on her chin and pulled her towards him. His expressionless orbs bore into hers.

Gris held her breath. She studied his face, framed beautifully with a transparent blue background. With the sun behind him, a dark shade drew across his features, making him look cold and untouchable. And in contrast, his warm breath touched her face, warming it. Everything–his touch, his face, his breath, overwhelmed and confused her.

He disrupted her from thinking straight.

Suddenly everything she knew about Vianut van Byrenhag jumbled together. He is cold, yet hot. He worships God and in return for God’s trust and protection, he sacrifices his s*xual desires and commit murder under God’s name. He exuded a smell–it wasn’t nauseating alcohol, nor strong cologne–but it drew her in like a magnet.

Was he a kind man, or someone from whom to run away? She didn’t have time to draw a conclusion before he slowly called out her name.

“…Yuliana.”

His deep voice brought shivers down her spine and goosebump to rise on her arms. Gris couldn’t stop herself from looking into his eyes, surrounded by a dense row of eyelashes. His large eyes were slightly almond-shaped and of a deep purple, with hints of blue, color.

She gazed into his eyes and counted five seconds before she could avert her gaze. The nape of her neck flushing as her heart raced. By the Gods, she was blushing!  His features shaped perfectly, as if meticulously sculptured by God possessed her mind like the plague.

If half of his face hadn’t been covered by dry, crusting blood, Gris would have completely given in to him at that moment. But she had to brace herself.

According to Adrian, the brothel-keeper, it only takes ten seconds to fall in love with someone. Ten seconds to absorb physical looks, the sound of the voice and the other person’s body scent.

If Adrian was right, was this the reason why Gris couldn’t take her eyes off of him? Or was it because of the stench of blood and sweat that wafted over? If this man was strong enough to survive a fierce battle, then he could also exterminate the Talilluchi family, who stole Grandia away from her and her family.

Three seconds ticked by slowly. Gris needed a reason not to fall for his outlandish charms.

As these thoughts floated past, a black butterfly landed on his left shoulder. Behind the insect, Gris saw a black horse with a human head tied to its leather saddle.

Looking at the sharp upper part of the crown embedded into the head’s scalp, it must have been the King of Chateau. His head decorated with ribbons of dried blood, and his skin turned bluish, was a horrific sight.

Ten seconds must have passed by now, and she knew the reason why she couldn’t fancy such a man. Not only was he bloodthirsty and violent, he was also vindictive; he wanted to keep a severed head as a trophy.

He was in a position of power where he had the ability to decide who would live and who could die. If he was vindictive, Gris shuddered at the thought of what he would do to her if he discovered her true identity.

Just then, she heard a shrill voice in the distance.

“Oh no! Madam Yuliana!”

The housekeeper and a local magistrate both came running towards her. They carried between them a thick blanket, having heard that Madam Yuliana had almost drowned in the lake.

At last, he let go of her chin although his index finger lingered. Even then, his eyes still held hers as if he had just seen something marvelous and couldn’t stop looking. Gris was thrilled and embarrassed at the same time and soon averted her eyes from him.

The housekeeper approached her but as soon as she spotted Sir Byrenhag, she curtsied deeply. The local magistrate bowed his head in deference.

“I’m relieved and glad to have you back, Sir.”

Vianut nodded curtly at the housekeeper and turned to leave with his back facing Gris.

Gris understood he had nothing more to say to her. Dripping with water, she moved over to the housekeeper, who wrapped Gris tightly with the blanket. With a worried look on her face, the housekeeper asked,

“How do you feel, madam?”

“I need to get back to my room,” Gris whispered in a shaky voice.

As Gris started to walk back to the House, the housekeeper and Bellin followed in her footsteps. She passed Vianut and Quentin and felt both their stares trailed on her… Soon enough, she heard a teasing voice.

“I know I’m in no position to say this, but she has grown up to be a beautiful young lady, Sir. I suspect numerous proposals will be arriving on your hands soon….”

The light tone sounded like the knight Quentin, but Vianut didn’t reply immediately.

After a while, he simply said, “She has eyes the color of crimson.”