408 What do you know ?
Aeliana froze mid-sip, her amber eyes flicking up to Luca over the rim of the mug. He was leaning back on his hands, his smirk as infuriatingly persistent as ever, though there was a spark of curiosity in his dark eyes.
"Now," he said again, his tone casual but pointed. "When are you going to tell your na?"
She lowered the mug slowly, her fingers tightening around the warm ceramic as she studied him warily. "Why does it matter?" she asked, her voice defensive.
"Well," Luca began, his smirk widening, "you already know my na—Luca—and judging by the fact that you've been watching all this ti, you probably know a lot more about than that." He tilted his head, his gaze sharp and knowing. "anwhile, I don't even know your na."
Aeliana stiffened, her grip on the mug tightening. "I wasn't watching you," she muttered, though the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her embarrassnt.
"Oh, right," Luca drawled, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "You just happened to be looking my way from that ship. Coincidence, I'm sure."
She shot him a glare, her lips pressing into a thin line.
"But," he continued, leaning forward slightly, his tone softening just a fraction, "if we're going to be stuck in this place together, it only makes sense for to know your na, doesn't it?"
Aeliana looked away, her gaze dropping to the mug in her hands. The firelight flickered across her features, highlighting the tension in her expression.
"I don't see why it's necessary," she said, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.
Luca raised an eyebrow, leaning back again with a dramatic sigh. "Necessary? Co on, it's just a na. What's the worst that could happen? I promise I won't bite."
Her eyes flicked back to him, narrowing slightly. "You're annoying."
"Maybe," he agreed easily, flashing her a grin. "But I'm not wrong."
Aeliana exhaled sharply, her fingers brushing against the edge of her veil as she weighed her options. Part of her wanted to keep that distance, to hold onto the barrier that had always protected her. But another part of her—the part that felt strangely disard by his unwavering presence—found itself wavering.
Finally, she spoke, her voice low but steady.
"Aeliana," she said, her amber eyes eting his.
She glared at him again, but this ti there was less venom in her gaze. As much as she hated to admit it, there was a strange relief in hearing him say her na—like a piece of herself had been acknowledged without judgnt.
Luca stretched his legs out in front of him, his dark eyes flicking back to the fire. "Well, Aeliana," he said casually. "You share the sa na as the Duke Thaddeus' daughter."
Luca's dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned slightly forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Well, Aeliana," he said, his voice light but pointed, "you share the sa na as the Duke Thaddeus' daughter."
The mont the words left his mouth, Aeliana stiffened, her fingers tightening around the mug. The reaction was subtle but unmistakable, and Luca's gaze sharpened.
He tilted his head slightly, a sly smile tugging at his lips. "My duchess?"
Her amber eyes darted to him, wide and startled, before she quickly lowered her gaze. "Don't call that," she said softly, her voice edged with a bitterness she couldn't fully hide. "I'm not a duchess or anything."
Luca raised a brow, his expression curious but unassuming. "Why not?"
"Why?" Aeliana repeated, her tone sharper as she clutched the mug closer to her chest. "Because I'm useless."
The word hung in the air, heavy and sharp. Luca's smirk faded slightly, his expression shifting into sothing quieter, more thoughtful.
"Useless," he echoed, the word rolling off his tongue as if testing its weight. "That's… an interesting choice of words."
Aeliana's chest tightened as mories surfaced unbidden, pulling her into a storm of thoughts she had tried so hard to bury.
She rembered the sneer on Madeleina's face, the cruel words dripping with disdain as she stood above her. "You're not fit to lead anyone. Just stay out of the way—you're only dragging everyone down."
The mory twisted further, shifting to her father's stern, weary gaze as he spoke in asured tones about her engagent. "It's necessary for the family, Aeliana. We cannot continue like this."
She knew what he truly ant. It wasn't just about alliances or duty. Her illness, her weakness—it was a weight he could no longer carry.
Aeliana's knuckles turned white as she gripped the mug, her thoughts spiraling. I'm not just useless. I'm a liability. Because of , he can't move forward. Because of , the family is stuck in limbo.
Luca's voice pulled her from the depths of her mind. "You really believe that?" he asked, his tone softer now, almost gentle.
She glanced up at him, startled by the shift in his expression. His smirk was gone, replaced by a look that was both serious and searching.
"It's not about believing," she said bitterly, her voice low. "It's the truth."
Luca leaned back, his dark eyes drifting toward the cavern's jagged ceiling. His expression shifted into sothing thoughtful, the smirk softening into a faint curve that seed more contemplative than amused.
"What do we an by the word 'useful'?" he said aloud, his voice quiet but deliberate, as if he were speaking both to Aeliana and to himself.
Aeliana blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone.
"Does being useful an helping people?" Luca continued, his gaze tracing the flickering shadows cast by the firelight. "Or is it about achieving ambitions—tools we 'use' along the way to get what we want?"
His words hung in the air, weaving into the quiet of the cavern. He glanced at her briefly, a flicker of sothing unreadable in his eyes before he looked back to the fire.
"If that's what defines being useful," he said slowly, "then does it an your life exists only to serve soone else's ambitions? To be a stepping stone for their goals?" He shook his head slightly, his voice tinged with a faint sadness. "Isn't that such a tragic way to live?"
The question lingered in Aeliana's mind, his words striking chords she had never dared to touch. What does it an to be useful? she thought, her fingers trembling slightly against the ceramic mug.
Her whole life had been built on the idea of utility—serving her family, protecting their legacy, living up to their expectations. She had never questioned it before, never stopped to consider if there could be more.
Luca's voice interrupted her spiraling thoughts, his tone still calm but tinged with quiet intensity. "Sure," he said, "we all have responsibilities. So people enjoy privileges that others don't, and with privilege cos a price. That's just how life works."
He paused, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. "For instance, you. As the daughter of a duke, you must've had access to things most people could only dream of—resources, education, security."
Aeliana stiffened, her jaw tightening as she braced herself for the inevitable judgnt she had heard so many tis before.
"But," Luca continued, his voice steady, "at the sa ti, didn't you pay the price for it? By getting this illness?"
Her eyes widened slightly, the question catching her off guard.
"In this sense," Luca said, his gaze locking onto hers, "do you not deserve to live? To exist for more than just being 'useful' to soone else? Haven't you already paid enough?"
The mug in her hands felt heavier sohow, the warmth of the tea no longer reaching her as his words sank in.
Deserve to live. The idea was foreign, almost incomprehensible to her. Her whole life had been a series of exchanges—a cycle of privilege and burden, obligation and sacrifice. She had never once stopped to think about what she deserved.
"I…" she started, her voice faltering as the words caught in her throat.
Luca leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied her carefully. "It's not about whether you've been useful to soone else, Aeliana," he said, his tone softer now, almost gentle. "It's about whether you've been fair to yourself."
Her chest tightened, her amber eyes dropping to the fire as she struggled to process what he was saying.
Fair to herself? When had that ever been an option?
"You don't have to answer now," Luca added, his smirk returning faintly as he leaned back. "But just think about it. Being useful is overrated anyway."
Hearing his words she questioned.
But at the sa ti, she felt sothing.
A feeling that she knew she was not supposed to feel.
'What do you know?'
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