Chapter 1022

Rafael chuckled. "Uncle Yuvan, how could you think I'd be upset? Unless, of course, you've done something to wrong me?"

Yuvan laughed heartily, waving a hand dismissively. "Of course not!"

He was the first to stride to his seat, sweeping his cloak aside as he sat down with an air of authority. "Please, sit. No need for ceremony."

He wore a finely embroidered surcoat of rich brocade, featuring a golden thread pattern of soaring cranes. A faint touch of color stained his lips, giving them a subtle red hue, and his face radiated a confident smile.

Violet glanced at him, unable to shake the impression that he resembled a peacock displaying its feathers.

Once everyone was seated, Wayne entered with Randall and Lucian. The two brothers had been genuinely happy to see Carissa and Rafael earlier, but now a noticeable awkwardness hung in the air. After greeting them, they sat down, their expressions stiff and uncomfortable. They even avoided eye contact with Rafael.

Knowing Wayne was Yuvan's strategist, Rafael studied him for a moment. He wasn't sure why, but it seemed a disagreement had occurred between them—and not a trivial one. Both men displayed telltale signs of lingering anger, an anger that would surely fester into bitterness. Martial artists, of all people, could sense these things.

His gaze shifted back to Yuvan, and he asked with a smile, "Uncle Yuvan, you suddenly invited us to your estate. Is there some happy news you're celebrating?"

Yuvan, simmering with frustration, wasn't about to mention he hadn't invited Rafael at all. He cast a brief glance at Molly before forcing a smile. "As I mentioned, I've visited your estate several times, but you've always been unavailable. So, I thought I'd extend an invitation to you and your wife. After all, we're family, and we should make an effort to stay in touch."

Rafael found the situation amusing. He hadn't just been unavailable—he had flat-out shut Yuvan out.

"You're absolutely right, Uncle Yuvan. It's important to stay in touch."

While Rafael managed the conversation, Carissa observed Yuvan silently. In a few exchanged words, she noticed his eyes kept drifting toward Violet. There was something unsettling, almost predatory, about the lingering gaze.

Carissa knew Molly had invited Violet to dinner with less-than-noble intentions, but she assumed it was merely an attempt to secure her cousin's allegiance. She never imagined it would be for such base intentions.

"Your Grace. Your Grace?"

Carissa returned to her senses after Fiona called to her.

"Yes?"

Fiona smiled. "Why have you been staring at Stephanie?"

Carissa, lost in thought, had been gazing at Stephanie while considering Yuvan's vile intentions. Fiona mistook this, and the sharpness in Carissa's gaze startled Stephanie.

"Nothing," Carissa replied coolly. "I just thought of my late aunt."

Her eyes swept over Stephanie before settling on Sabrina. The intensity in her gaze remained sharp and unrelenting.

Neither Stephanie nor Sabrina dared to speak. They had been disrespectful to Carissa in the past, but since she became commander of the Mystic Army, they no longer dared look down on her. In fact, they were now somewhat afraid of her.

Molly turned her head away, her expression one of distaste. To mention a dead person in her presence—how unlucky!

However, Fiona saw it as a good conversation starter. Smiling brightly, she said, "You're so sentimental, Your Grace. Speaking of which, I have a small favor to ask. Both Stephanie and Sabrina are of marriageable age, and it's time they became engaged. As I'm not in the capital, I don't know which young noblemen possess the right character to be entrusted with their futures."

Carissa recalled Ivy mentioning Sabrina's neglect of Avis during her illness. Stephanie occasionally brought medicine, but her attitude was hardly respectful. When Avis soiled Stephanie's clothes, she lashed out.

Carissa usually controlled her emotions, but only when necessary. She didn't feel it necessary now, and responded coldly, "Any young nobleman with decent character wouldn't even look at women who aren't dutiful and kind. If they want to make a match in the capital, they'd be wise to go to their mothers' graves and beg for forgiveness. Even a little false devotion would be better than acting like animals."