Golden Arrow - Chapter 6

6. A Strange Night

Psyche had the banquet hall opened for the first time in years. The maids bustled around frantically, working to have everything ready before dinner. But no one complained, as the two men who had come from Ingrint to fetch Psyche had thoroughly captured their interest. Particularly, Eurus drew great attention, and the maids whispered about him whenever they had a spare moment.

“My goodness, I’ve never seen such a handsome man!”

“If a bastard is that good-looking, the man Lady Psyche is to marry must look like the Archangel Michael himself!”

Rumors about Eurus had already trickled into Galloway. The Cavendish family was a household name, after all. It was said that the Duke of Devonshire owned vast lands and wealth, but Eurus, being an illegitimate son, would inherit none of it. The news that it wasn’t the legitimate heir but the bastard coming to visit had angered the people of Galloway Castle, who saw it as an insult to their young lady.

Of all the rumors that had circulated, however, none mentioned Eurus’s stunning appearance. The talk had painted him, and by extension his brother Deimos Cavendish, as weak and frail southern fops—quite the opposite of the robust men of Scotlin. With no portrait of the groom ever sent, such assumptions were only natural.

The truth behind the absence of Deimos’s portrait was another matter altogether. Deimos had thrown such a tantrum over the marriage that there hadn’t even been an opportunity to have his portrait painted. While failing to send a portrait was undoubtedly rude, the Duke of Devonshire family hadn’t intended to belittle Psyche. The Duke simply hadn’t cared enough to think about it.

Nevertheless, the moment the maids laid eyes on Eurus, their opinions changed. His handsome features, combined with the gentle smile and noble manners he displayed even toward the servants, sent a warm spring breeze into their hearts despite the chilly autumn weather.

“You must have had a difficult journey.”

Only three people sat in the vast banquet hall for dinner: Psyche, Eurus, and Samuel.

“Not at all. It was no trouble. The scenery of Scotlin is truly magnificent,” Eurus replied politely, lifting his glass to his lips.

Samuel grumbled inwardly at those words. Samuel, the coachmen, the guards, and even the horses had been worn out by the rough Scotlin terrain and its unpredictable weather. One of the carriages had broken down, and the coachman had spent the entire night repairing it—all because Eurus had insisted they keep moving at full speed across the rocky roads of Scotlin.

“That’s fortunate. Aside from the summer, Scotlin’s weather is rarely pleasant, so you must be quite the optimist to have enjoyed the scenery,” Psyche said.

Eurus stared at her. Eighteen. For a girl who had yet to fully shed her youth, her response was remarkably mature.

From the moment she had met Eurus, Psyche had been conscious of his gaze. She could tell that he was subtly observing her, but she could hardly call him out on it. Instead, she focused on her meal, pretending not to notice him.

“Cough!”

Samuel, trying to drink as Eurus had, suddenly clutched the napkin on his lap and began coughing violently. A maid rushed over from the entrance of the hall to offer him another napkin.

“Are you all right?”

Psyche’s round eyes softened with concern as she spoke.

“Yes, I—well, no, I mean, I’m fine.”

“It seems the drink doesn’t suit your taste.”

Samuel couldn’t nod or shake his head. Nodding would be rude, and shaking his head would be a lie.

“I’ve heard that people unfamiliar with Scotlin whiskey often have difficulty drinking it. The peat gives it a smoky scent, which can be overwhelming for those who aren’t used to it.”

Samuel gave an awkward laugh. That explained the unpleasant smell he had noticed whenever the carriage windows opened on the journey. Without that explanation, he might have suspected someone had tampered with the drink.

“You seem to enjoy it well, Lord Eurus.”

Psyche smiled slightly as she noted Eurus sipping his second glass.

“I’ve had it before.”

“Whiskey?”

Psyche tilted her head, surprised.

“Yes. I didn’t like it much, but I’ve had many opportunities to drink it.”

“I didn’t know they sold whiskey in Ingrint.”

Eurus smiled strangely at her comment. Psyche wanted to ask what that smile meant but held back. Fortunately, Samuel spoke up, addressing her curiosity.

“They sell it? In Lydon? Or Devonshire? I’ve never seen it.”

“Before I entered the Duke’s household,” Eurus replied.

The answer left both Samuel and Psyche momentarily speechless. Psyche, who had heard of Eurus’s origins, had temporarily forgotten his background thanks to his perfect manners. Samuel, on the other hand, was surprised because Eurus rarely spoke of his life before joining the Cavendish family.

“Wait… didn’t you join the family when you were twelve?”

“I did.”

Eurus’s calm reply came with a relaxed smile.

“And you drank such strong liquor at that age?”

“It wasn’t unusual.”

“It’s hardly normal for a child to drink,” Samuel said in disbelief, sighing.

Although Samuel wasn’t from a particularly powerful house, as the son of a baron, he shared the typical aristocratic belief that one only earned the right to drink after coming of age.

“There are many children who drink,” Psyche said quietly, addressing Samuel.

“What? Many?”

“Yes. You’ll see them the moment you leave this estate. Most of them are children who work in the peat mines. They drink to endure the cold. If they don’t, their bodies freeze, they slow down, and then they’re severely punished by their overseers.”

Samuel was taken aback. Could it be that Eurus had once worked in such conditions? The thought of someone as noble and refined as Eurus being whipped or beaten seemed absurd.

“Of course, there are other cases as well. It’s said that people who live in colder places drink strong liquor like water from a young age. That too must be to endure the cold. I’m simply pointing out that it’s not just children doing hard labor who drink alcohol.”

Samuel relaxed a little at her explanation. Of course, that made more sense. There was no way someone like Eurus had ever been forced into hard labor.

“Then you must have spent your childhood in a very cold place,” Samuel remarked.

For the first time, Eurus, who had been unresponsive as though the topic were someone else’s concern, smiled faintly and lifted his third glass.

“Neither, actually. I’ve never worked in a peat mine, nor have I lived in a particularly cold place. Winter was cold, of course, but isn’t that true for everyone?”

“That’s… true.”

Eurus watched Samuel nodding in agreement before shifting his attention to Psyche. Leaning slightly in her direction, he spoke softly.

“If the Queen were to find out that a noble lady was producing moonshine, she wouldn’t take it lightly.”

Psyche froze for a moment, her face turning red.

It had been decades since a former King of Ingrint had imposed exorbitant taxes on whiskey produced in Scotlin. Unable to bear the tax burden, the people of Scotlin began secretly distilling whiskey away from the prying eyes of the Ingrint government. Psyche had been no exception.

Moonshine had been a great help in paying off the enormous debt her father left behind. Psyche had built a hidden distillery deep in the mountains, gathering trusted people to produce whiskey under the cover of moonlit nights. Compared to the meager profits from selling scarce crops or the abundant but worthless peat, the whiskey trade had generated considerable income. It was what allowed her to slowly pay off debts and keep Galloway Castle afloat.

Assuming that neither of the Ingrint nobles would know anything about it, she had carelessly served whiskey at the table. Now she regretted it. Psyche quickly glanced at Samuel, relieved to see him still absorbed in his meal and oblivious to their conversation.

“What do you mean?”

She tried to reply nonchalantly.

But Eurus had already noticed the faint trembling of her dark eyes.

“I told you, didn’t I? That I’ve had whiskey many times before.”

He lifted his glass with a mischievous smile.

Psyche watched the amber liquid swirl in his glass before turning her gaze back to Eurus. His blue eyes were fixed intently on her, but something in them reassured her. Without any real basis, she instinctively knew he wouldn’t betray her secret.

Eurus began folding his napkin neatly—his way of signaling that he was finished with the meal.

“Shall we end dinner here? Lady Stuart, how about a walk?”

Psyche nodded, and Eurus rose from his seat, moving to her side. After excusing herself to Samuel, she followed Eurus out of the banquet hall.

“The air is chilly,” Eurus remarked.

He draped his frock coat over Psyche’s shoulders. The smooth lining of the coat was still warm with his body heat.

“I apologize for arriving earlier than expected. It must have been quite a surprise.”

Psyche shook her head. “As you can see, it’s a small castle. I’m sorry there’s so little here to accommodate you. Forgive me for the lacking hospitality.”

“The hospitality doesn’t matter. For someone like me, all formalities are unnecessary.”

“Still…”

“Truly, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Eurus slowed his steps to match her pace. Then, almost impulsively, he said, “On the way here, I urged the coachman to hurry.”

“……”

“I had something to confirm.”

Eurus stopped walking and turned to face her.

At first, there hadn’t been any particular reason. But the moment the carriage crossed the Ingrint border into Scotlin, an inexplicable sense of urgency had overtaken him. The scent of the land and air, long forgotten over the past decade, stirred something inside him. Ignoring Samuel’s complaints, he had ordered the coachman to drive faster for that reason.

“What… did you want to confirm?”

“Well, let’s just say I was curious about my brother’s future bride.”

Psyche instinctively touched her cheek. For some reason, everything about this man’s demeanor had been rubbing her the wrong way—like a strand of hair that had fallen across her face, minor but irksome, and oddly ticklish.

“Do you know me?” Psyche asked, her gaze full of suspicion.

Eurus smiled—a distant, unfathomable smile that carried both familiarity and strangeness.

“How could I?”

“What?”

“How could someone like me—a bastard of the Cavendish family—possibly know someone like Lady Psyche Stuart, of Scotlin’s royal blood?”

The bewildered Psyche’s black eyes wavered as if holding the Milky Way within them. Eurus silently gazed at her ever-changing expression for a long while.

“At first, I didn’t want to come here in my brother’s stead.”

“I see.”

“But now, I think it was the right choice.”

Psyche was momentarily at a loss for words. To her, Eurus was as inscrutable as the dark night sky—impossible to grasp or fully understand.

She narrowed her eyes, trying to read him. At that moment, the full moon, hidden behind clouds, emerged, casting a bright, silvery glow over them.

In that instant, Psyche knew—instinctively—that Eurus’s words were no lie. The night, illuminated by moonlight, was as clear and transparent as a miracle.

***