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Sersi inhales a deep breath, the cold evening air filling her lungs in much-needed reprieve. The ballroom has become too crowded, and a woman like her could only handle so much. She exhales, and a thin puff of air tells her it will start to get cold and she will need her red coat.
She swallows the last bit of sweet juice on the glass she bought with her and lets out a sigh. She looks up to the night sky and starts counting the stars near the moon. Anything, anything to take her mind off what her employer told her earlier.
He needs to find a wife. He needs to find his dutchess.
And if Sersi was honest, hearing the words come out from his mouth made her mind spin and spin and spin like the dancers behind her.
She should not have been surprised; it was bound to happen ever since the title landed on Ikaris. She just didn’t expect it to be so soon.
She turns away from the moon and stares at the commotion inside; these lords and ladies are way above her, stations so much higher than her. And no way will she ever have the chance ever to be one.
Sure, she was employed. But employed ladies are frowned upon in the society, for a reason too dumb for her to understand. It started when she escaped the hell that her aunt had put her through and escaped to find her path.
She was lucky – so lucky that her path led her to Ikaris’ employment. His post of looking for a secretary was the first job she thought she could apply for. She knew that she would never have the chance to be one; the first of the many reasons is that Ikaris was known to be demanding, stoic, and hard to deal with. Not to mention he fires his secretary not more than three months into his employment.
So, it was a shock to her when she got ushered inside to be interviewed and it was another shock for her when she got the job.
And it has been three years since then.
And every moment spent with the man had her falling for him – unfortunately.
Sersi groans, planting her palms to her face when struck with that fact again. It was not supposed to happen; she did not plan any of this to ever happen. She slowly turns her back from the ballroom and watches the sway of flowers and bushes from the lawn. A maze of shrubs are laid out in perfect trims; a thought suddenly comes to her. She dusts off her gown and lays the glass on the balcony to begin stepping down the stairs.
Her massive infatuation for her employer should have ended before it could blossom, but alas. The rumors about his strictness and general devilish ways were rather reserved for business partners and bumbling mamas. But when no one is around, and when it is a quiet day with her. Ikaris is a man who sleeps late for his business and sends letters to his mother once a week, a doting friend, and a kind soul. An even kinder employer who offered one of his rooms in his massive house when he knew about Sersi’s rather ‘sad’ living quarters.
Impropriety be damned, he said.
Sersi denied it once – her infatuation. She thought she might have been feeling like this because Ikaris is one of the few who treated her well –
But of course, she later finds out it’s not the case.
Her sandals scrape on gravel the moment she steps on the ground, the lawn is well kept, and the few torches give her enough to start making her way to the maze. She crosses her arms to rub her arms; it feels colder over here than where she was on the balcony. She shivers again, and she faces the entrance of the maze. The hedges are long; they tower over her, the opening is wider than she expected, no doubt to let two people wander inside simultaneously.
She knows about the mazes; she knows what happens inside. And there is something inside of her that wishes she could feel the thrill of getting inside with the promise of something sweet. Only one man comes to her mind, only his mouth she can picture.
She shakes her head rather harshly to shake the thoughts away and turns her heel to walk, following how vast the maze is. She drags the tip of her fingers to feel the leaves and looks up to the sky once again.
She confirmed her infatuation was real when she saw Ikaris shirtless one morning.
She shrieked a little bit. She swallowed it, though, but she still made a noise when she saw him laid on the long office couch, shirtless and just about rising for the morning. She was also early to prepare the room – it is her job, and she wanted to start organizing early, but it was the first time she saw Ikaris sleeping on the couch, let alone naked.
The picture of Ikaris barely awake, yawning and stretching in front of her, twisted her ankle so fast she almost stumbled, but she managed to leave the room before Ikaris could see her red cheeks. It only happened once, thank god for that. After that, she became hyperaware of everything about him, the way he stands, the way he stares at papers, the way his arms flex by merely taking off his coat.
Sersi was a damned fool ever to think it was not infatuation. Because it was, and it was bad.
It was so bad that one of his friends – Druig, even knows about it. She got teased once or twice, and she would always glare at the man in response, for it is a secret she holds dear. Druig, with his kind heart, has never crossed a line in teasing, does it when Ikaris has zero thought to it.
Sersi stops –, “Oh.”
Not only did Ikaris gave her a room to sleep in, but he gave her… friends.
Druig, Phastos, Kingo, and Lady Makkari are all business partners and Sersi’s dear friends. And all of them became hers because of Ikaris.
Sersi groans once more, adding a little kick on the ground because of the realization that this might end. When he marries, whose wife would be happy that he has a female secretary? Which wife would be amenable to the thought of her husband living in the same mansion with a woman? No one. Not one of the ladies inside the ballroom that might soon be the Dutchess of Trent would allow it.
Her life with Ikaris would have to end.
She spots a bench facing the maze, and she strolls to it; better rest her feet if she would need to be back inside again. More thoughts to ponder, the night is still young and lively, judging by the third waltz music playing in the background.
She has enough savings to live somewhere small; if she even wanted to she could have a garden. And after that, she could work again. She can do all of those after the savings she has racked up because she has no rent to pay, and she has not bought a new gown for months.
She isn’t one to even go to balls. Phastos hosted this ball tonight, and she could not refuse him an invitation.
So she wears her green gown again; no one would be paying her attention that would even notice she wore this to three other balls.
She starts planning her hunt – how to find a wife for Ikaris. He would need one who is kind, loving, and understanding. The man can be forward and grounded when an opinion is formed in his head. He would need a funny one as well because the man loves jokes.
It is why Ikaris loves working with Kingo.
Of course, the lady must be a daughter of a peer, so that narrows down her search. She would find the best one, so she could leave him in good hands.
It would be painful, Sersi supposes. She would be uprooted from where she is and would be nursing a heartbreak, oh how Druig would tease her again.
She would need to forget her and –
“Sersi?”
She cranes her neck fast, and her eyes land on the man on her mind, oh gods. Her thoughts were so loud she conjured him, “Ikaris?”
“Yes, it’s me.” The man walks closer, “What are you doing here?”
Sersi pats her thighs and tips her head to the house, “The party was getting too stuffy.”
“So you wander here?”
Sersi nods.
Ikaris chuckles and steps closer, the moonlight hitting him ,and he becomes clear, “Well, I’m glad you haven’t gone into the maze. I was looking for you.”
“Would you have followed me inside?” Sersi smiles, and her face drops with the implication of her question.
Ikaris curtly nods, “Yes, I would.”
“What?”
Ikaris coughs, “To know if you’re safe, especially from that gentleman earlier, Lord Whatshisname?”
“Lord Whitman,” Sersi rolls her eyes and chuckles, “I told you of his name.”
“It’s a forgettable name.”
She glares at the man, “Why are you out here, my lord?”
“Same as you, can I sit?”
Sersi jumps and scoots to the other side, gathers the lump of the gown in the process, “Sure. Please do.”
Ikaris nods in thanks and begins sitting, “The room was smelling of powder. The women have outdone their makeup this time.”
“I heard that’s what’s in fashion.”
“Yes. Lady Makkari informed me when I complained.”
Sersi makes a sound, “I would need to put that in my list.”
“Your list?”
“A woman who will tell you what’s in fashion so you won’t be behind. Your future wife must have that quality.”
Ikaris stares at her for a moment, then blinks, “You have made a list?”
“Well, yes.”
Ikaris tips his head and lets out a chuckle, “You’re very efficient.”
“That is why I stayed long in your office.”
Ikaris settles himself on the bench, leans his back, and stares upward, “That and some other things.”
Sersi perks up, “Oh, do tell.”
“You are just… very good at your job,” Ikaris replies, unsure and even chuckles to himself.
Sersi scrunches up her nose, “What a lame description, my lord.”
Ikaris chuckles, “You are efficient, and you charm my business partners, giving them alternatives to our deals that often closes it. I had suspected it long ago that when you’re involved, my business ventures soars high.”
Sersi swallows and tries to smile, “That is taking too far.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. People have offered a job for you as well, I know. But you choose to work for me still.” Ikaris turns to her, “Thank you.”
Sersi avoids the look and turns to the sky instead, “You are not a bad employer as well, my lord. Just a tiny bit annoying sometimes, but overall an excellent employer.”
She hears Ikaris snort.
“You sound like my mother.”
“Lady Ajak is always right, I’m afraid.”
“She sure does act like it. I wonder how she’ll react about the news.”
Sersi sighs, “She’ll take it well.” A pause. “She always loved to have her own grandchildren.”
Ikaris laughs hollow, “Oh, she’d love that, I’m sure.”
Sersi begins massaging her hand, swallowing a thick lump on her throat as she imagines Ikaris playing with a child. Oh, he would be a great father, just like the late Duke of Trent. He would love the child with his entire heart, and Sersi won’t be there to see it.
She shivers to hide the swelling in her heart; she would need to leave before the wedding, she could not bear to see it – to see him wed.
“Are you cold?” Ikaris furrows his brows and props himself up, “Here, take my jacket,”
Sersi turns to him, scandalized, “Oh no. I’m fine.”
But it is too late for the gentleman springs into action and took off the piece of clothing so quickly it didn’t give her time to deflect; Ikaris inches closer, and Sersi resigned to her fate and leaned forward so he could drape the coat.
The coat feels like a good blanket and smells like Ikaris.
Sersi wants this night to never end.
Ikaris leans back to his side on the bench, all smiles and satisfied with his gesture; Sersi scowls at him. Ladies don’t scowl, Sersi reminds herself, so she musters an angry smile instead.
Ikaris slides down on the bench, lying half of his body on the bench, “I don’t want this night to end.”
Sersi’s mouth hangs, and she shuts it upon realizing. This man is in her head.
She mimics Ikaris, arms crossed, lying her entire back to the bench, and closes her eyes.
She doesn’t say anything for a while, and neither does the gentleman beside him. The night is late, but the violins are still lively, Sersi just heard someone shriek, but she does not open her eyes to look, not when this moment is theirs.
The pianist is beginning his descend – ending another batch of dancers, making them do their last twirls and appropriate touching.
Sersi hums along with the piano – and with the last note, she opens her eyes, turns her neck to look at the man beside her.
Tomorrow they would have to face the facts.
Sersi would need to begin the process of acceptance.
Sersi would need to begin realizing he would never be hers.
He does not want this night to end, he said.
She mutters, “Me too.”