The Trouble with Other Eyes

The morning after our trip to town, I found Lila in the garden.

She was kneeling by the roses, her skirts brushing the grass, her small hands carefully plucking away dead petals. The sun caught in her hair, turning it gold at the edges.

She looked… almost ethereal.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Good morning, Miss Lila!”

My jaw tightened as one of the younger knights strode across the path, his grin too bright, his tone far too familiar.

Lila looked up, startled. “O-oh! Good morning, Sir Damon.”

Damon. Of course. The most insufferable of them all. Always laughing, always looking for excuses to linger where he wasn’t needed.

“Didn’t know you had such a talent for gardening,” he said smoothly, crouching far too close. “The roses are beautiful, but… they don’t compare to you.”

I felt something hot and sharp coil in my chest.

Before Lila could respond, I stepped into the garden, my shadow falling over both of them. “Damon.” My voice cut the air like a blade. “Don’t you have training to attend?”

He blinked up at me, then quickly straightened, scratching the back of his neck. “Ah—yes, my lord. I was just—”

“Leaving,” I finished.

His grin faltered, but he bowed and retreated, his boots crunching against the gravel.

Silence settled between us, broken only by the soft rustle of roses.

Lila’s brows knit together. “You didn’t have to be so harsh. He was just being friendly.”

“Friendly?” I repeated, fighting the urge to laugh. “That man has never been friendly a day in his life. He was flirting.”

Her cheeks flamed. “Fl-flirting? With me? Don’t be ridiculous.”

I stepped closer, leaning down until her wide eyes met mine. “You really don’t notice, do you?”

She bit her lip, flustered. “Why would anyone flirt with me? I spill buckets and trip over carpets. I’m a mess.”

“Exactly,” I muttered.

“Exactly?” she echoed, confused.

“Exactly the kind of mess someone would want to claim.”

Her breath caught. She stared at me, her lips parting, her hands frozen in the folds of her skirt.

I should’ve stopped there. I should’ve walked away. But the image of Damon’s grin, his bold eyes lingering on her—it wouldn’t leave me.

So instead, I reached down, brushing a fallen petal from her hair. My fingers lingered longer than necessary.

“You belong here,” I said softly. “With me. Not with the likes of him.”

Her lashes fluttered. “I-I don’t… belong to anyone.”

The words were quiet, but they pierced through me. For a moment, I almost pulled back. Almost.

But then her gaze lifted, uncertain yet shining, and I knew. Whether she admitted it or not, I had already staked my claim.

---

That evening, as I walked the halls, I overheard two maids whispering.

“…Did you see how the master glared at Sir Damon today? Poor knight looked ready to faint!”

“He’s so protective of the new girl… it’s almost like—”

I didn’t hear the rest. I didn’t need to.

Protective. Possessive. Call it what they wanted.

All I knew was this:

If another man so much as looked at Lila again, I’d make sure he remembered whose eyes she belonged under.

---

Lila, of course, was blissfully unaware of the storm inside me.

When I brought her dinner that night—a tray balanced with more care than I’d ever admit—she blinked at me in surprise.

“You don’t usually…” She hesitated. “…bring things yourself.”

“I don’t trust the others to carry it without spilling,” I lied smoothly.

Her lips curved. “You’re spoiling me again.”

“Yes,” I said, sitting the tray down firmly. “And I’ll keep doing it. As much as I want. No one else is allowed to.”

She tilted her head, puzzled. “Allowed to… spoil me?”

My gaze caught hers, steady, unflinching. “Allowed to have you.”

The silence that followed was deafening, her cheeks pink, her eyes wide as if the meaning had finally reached her.

I turned before I could say more. But as I left, I knew:

My clumsy maid wasn’t just someone I wanted to spoil.

She was someone I could never let go of.

---

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