The concussive force of the blast tore through the corridor, throwing Eilika violently to the floor as the adjacent wall shattered inward.

She struck her forehead against the hard marble floor with a sickening impact, a blinding flash of pain instantly dulling her senses and leaving her head spinning.

Thick blood began to ooze from the wound, trickling down her brow and clouding her vision. With every gasp, the smoke burned her throat, making it nearly impossible to draw breath as the flames rapidly spread along the tapestries and woodwork.

’Save me,’ the silent plea echoed in her mind, but her lips refused to form the words. Her eyelids grew too heavy to hold open, and the encroaching darkness swallowed her consciousness whole.

"Eilika! Eilika!"

Damian’s frantic voice cut through the roaring heat, echoing down the ruined corridor.

In her conscious mind, she could still hear his calls, though her limbs had completely surrendered. Unbeknownst to her, a faint whisper slipped past her lips: "Damian."

Pressing a linen handkerchief tightly over his nose and mouth to block out the suffocating smoke, Damian pushed deeper into the haze until his boots caught on something.

Looking down, he discerned the hem of her gown and her feet, partially buried beneath the fallen plaster and stone debris of the shattered wall.

He lunged forward, dropping to his knees at her side. The sight of the blood pooling beneath her head shocked him, but he didn’t let it override the rising panic.

Stripping off his overcoat, he wrapped it tightly around her broken form to shield her from the falling sparks, before lifting her securely into his arms.

Soldiers and estate servants had already formed bucket brigades, scrambling to douse the flames from both ends of the burning corridor.

Through the haze, Damian could hear Maurice’s booming voice, shouting at the guards to bring more water from the courtyard wells.

The smoke finally breached Damian’s defenses, forcing a series of coughs from his chest, but he tightly pursed his lips together, refusing to stop. He needed to reach the unobstructed wing of the mansion.

Suddenly, a second blast rocked the corridor. Damian skidded backward, shielding Eilika’s body with his own as debris rained down. Though this explosion lacked the devastating force of the first, it sent a fresh wave of heat roaring through the passage.

Just ahead, a massive oak door, weakened by the fire, groaned and collapsed into the corridor with a shower of sparks. Pivoting on his heel, Damian navigated around the flaming obstruction, breaking into a run.

"Damian!"

August’s voice pierced the chaos. Spotting his cousin emerging from the smoke, August rushed forward, wrenching a blanket from a nearby servant’s hands to help cover Damian.

Damian did not slacken his pace as he bore Eilika through the winding corridors until they finally broke out into an unaffected wing of the mansion.

He carried her into the nearest guest chamber and laid her gently upon the bed, immediately turning to the gathering attendants. "Fetch the the doctor! Now!"

"The doctor is already within the wing, Your Grace," a servant announced breathlessly from the doorway.

The physician hurried into the chamber, pausing only for a swift, respectful bow to the Duke before rushing to the bedside to examine Eilika’s wounds.

Damian glanced down at her pale face, his chest tightening. "I shall return momentarily," he told the physician. He needed to ensure that Roman and his mother had escaped the chaos unharmed.

Navigating the crowded hallways, Damian made his way to his son’s quarters. Upon throwing open the doors, he felt relieved; Roman was there, seated safely beside Georgia, though the boy’s face was streaked with tears.

"Father!" Roman cried, scrambling down from the velvet sofa the moment he saw him. The boy sprinted across the room and threw his tiny arms around Damian’s legs.

Damian dropped to one knee, pulling Roman into a fierce, protective embrace. Holding the boy close, his heart found a brief moment of peace knowing his son and mother were untouched by the malice of the attack. Yet, the image of Eilika covered in blood still haunted him.

He pulled back slightly, using his thumb to gently wipe the tears from Roman’s cheeks.

"Where is Mother?" Roman asked instantly, his voice trembling. "Is she alright?"

Damian looked into his son’s anxious eyes. He chose not to hide the reality, believing the boy deserved honesty in the face of such danger. "Your mother has sustained some injuries from the blast, Roman. But the physician is with her now, and he is doing everything he can. She will be fine soon."

"What? Eilika has been injured!?" Georgia asked, her hand flying to her chest in alarm.

"Yes. And now, you must both evacuate the mansion along with the others," Damian commanded. He glanced at the servants gathered near the doorway. "Where is Maurice?"

"Your Grace, he is at the center gallery, instructing the guards and servants to extinguish the remaining fire," one of them replied with a hasty bow.

"The mansion is no longer safe. We must abandon it for the courtyards," Damian said, straightening his posture. "Once Eilika’s treatment is complete, I will bring her out myself." He lifted Roman securely into his arms and gestured for his mother to lead the way out of the chamber.

As they moved down the corridor, Roman looked closely at his father’s face. Seeing the dark soot and ash smeared across Damian’s skin, the boy reached up with his tiny hands to wipe his cheek clean.

"Father, go back to Mother," Roman said, his small voice surprisingly firm. "I will run outside with Grandmother. I am not frightened anymore."

Damian felt a flicker of pride cut through his anxiety. He nodded, lowering the boy back onto the marble floor. Georgia immediately stepped forward and took Roman’s hand in hers. "Bring Eilika and the others to safety, Damian. Do not expend your worries on us."

With a final nod, Damian pivoted and ran back toward the farther wing where he had left the physician.

"Your Grace!" Maurice’s voice boomed through the haze as the seneschal intercepted him at the grand crossing.

Damian skidded to a halt.

"The fire has been contained, Your Grace," Maurice reported breathlessly. "Please, you must make for the gardens. It is unsafe to remain within the walls. I shall go at once to escort the Dowager Duchess and the young master—"

"Maurice, they are already on their way to the courtyards," Damian interrupted sharply. "Eilika is wounded. She is currently being tended to in the eastern guest wing. Issue an order for all remaining staff to evacuate the mansion immediately. I shall not leave until the physician allows her to be moved."

Maurice’s brow furrowed in deep concern. "But Your Grace, would it not have been wiser to carry the Duchess out to the open air immediately, rather than keeping her confined within an unsettled wing?"

"Yes. But the treatment was important. I’ll talk to you later." Damian didn’t waste time and ran ahead. Reaching the wing, he panted, he found the physician had already cleaned the wound on Eilika’s forehead.

"August, you must withdraw as well. I shall bring Eilika out shortly. Take the remaining servants with you," Damian instructed, his tone brooking no argument.

Fortunately, this particular guest chamber featured grand French doors that opened directly onto the eastern gardens, allowing a steady current of fresh, cool air to sweep through the room and clear the lingering scent of smoke. It was precisely why Damian had chosen this chamber; it offered an immediate, unobstructed escape route to the safety of the lawns should the fire spread.

August inclined his head slightly, stepping back from the bed before gesturing for the four lingering housemaids to follow him out into the courtyard.

"Why has she not regained consciousness?" Damian demanded, stepping closer to the bedside. He watched the physician anxiously. "The air is clear here. By all accounts, she should have opened her eyes by now."

The physician, who had already elevated Eilika’s head slightly with a firm bolster to ease her breathing, was currently applying a cold, damp linen cloth to the nape of her neck to soothe her system.

"Your Grace, the Duchess suffered a severe blow to the brow, and such trauma demands time to recede," the physician explained gently, keeping his focus on her.

"However, her breathing remains steady and deep. It is an immense relief, and entirely due to your swift action in extracting her from the smoke. She shall awaken shortly; we must simply allow the shock to pass."

’This has never happened before,’ Damian thought, a guilt tightening in his chest. ’A second attack on my own ground. I should never have let her walk away alone.’

He stared down at her pale features, his fists clenching at his sides as the helplessness of the situation pressed in on him.

’Please, do not let her be taken from me,’ he pleaded silently. ’Please, God... if You are up there, if You exist at all, spare her.’