The winter sun poured through the tall windows, turning the frost along the glass into thin lines of silver.
Inside, the room was pleasantly warm.
A fire crackled steadily in the stone hearth, and beside the window, an old gramophone played a gentle classical piece. Piano notes drifted quietly through the room, filling the comfortable silence without disturbing it.
Aurelian sat propped against a mountain of goose-feather pillows in the four-poster bed, the heavy drapes tied back so he could see outside. A thick shawl rested around his shoulders, several furs covered his legs, and a steaming cup of tea waited on the bedside table.
He turned another page of the book resting in his lap.
It was one of several Seraphina had gotten for him.
Aurelian had already finished two.
He was beginning to suspect he might finish the entire collection before anyone allowed him to leave this room.
A small cough caught in his throat.
He frowned, reached for the tea, and took a careful sip until the irritation disappeared.
At least the cough was better.
Everything was better, really.
Which was fortunate, considering how spectacularly his body had betrayed him almost immediately after arriving in Vaelmont.
His first day in the north had been exhausting enough.
He had only intended to accept Seraphina's tour, acquaint himself with the estate, and retire early after the long journey.
Unfortunately, remaining idle had never been one of Aurelian's strengths.
By the end of the day, he had somehow helped a tavern owner and his wife, spoken with gardeners about the difficulties of cultivating plants in the northern cold, and spent entirely too much time discussing medicinal herbs with those responsible for supplying the local physicians.
Then, rather than remaining sensibly in his chambers that evening, Aurelian had woken thirsty sometime after midnight and decided it would be ridiculous to summon someone merely to fetch him water.
He had made it surprisingly far.
Several knights and maids working the night shift had eventually discovered him wandering the halls with an empty pitcher.
They had been horrified.
Aurelian had been apologetic.
Somehow, before they managed to usher him back into his chambers, he had learned the names of two knights, discovered that one maid's sister worked in the nearby town, and listened to another complain about how difficult it was to keep the corridor windows from freezing shut.
He could not help it.
Everyone here knew Seraphina, knew Vaelmont, and knew one another.
Aurelian was the stranger occupying one of their finest guest chambers.
Being waited upon for every small thing only made him more aware of it, and he preferred doing what he could for himself.
It made him feel slightly less like an inconvenience.
One particularly kind maid had eventually brewed him a cup of tea, firmly ordered him into bed, and waited until he promised not to leave again before departing.
Aurelian had fallen asleep shortly afterward.
And awakened the next morning burning with fever.
The household had gone into an uproar.
Seraphina's personal physician had been summoned, and after one examination, several questions, and a rather disapproving look at Aurelian's attempts to insist that he felt perfectly capable of standing, the man had determined that the sudden change in climate had left him vulnerable to a seasonal illness.
The verdict had been immediate.
Medicine.
Warm meals.
Plenty of water.
And absolutely no leaving his chambers.
For over a week.
Aurelian had attempted to negotiate, but the physician had not been interested.
Fortunately, he had not been left entirely alone. The Vaelmont staff had assigned him a temporary personal assistant while he recovered.
Joshua.
The boy had arrived on the first morning carrying a tray of medicine with both hands and looking as though he had been sent to negotiate peace between two hostile kingdoms.
He was young, with sandy-blond hair and bright brown eyes that had seemed perpetually wide during their first few conversations. He spoke softly, bowed too stiffly, and had stuttered so badly when addressing Aurelian that the poor boy could barely finish introducing himself.
Aurelian had immediately felt terrible for him.
It had taken nearly two days to convince Joshua that forgetting to call him my lord once would not result in his dismissal.
By the end of the week, however, the nervousness had eased.
Somewhat.
Joshua still hovered whenever Aurelian coughed and nearly dropped whatever he was holding whenever someone important entered the room, but he had become pleasant company during the long hours of confinement.
It was through those conversations that Aurelian learned Joshua was not originally from Vaelmont either.
He had come from the west only recently and joined the household because his family needed the money. His father remained there with Joshua's younger brother, who had apparently been ill for some time.
Aurelian had not asked too many questions.
Joshua's expression whenever he mentioned his brother told him enough.
Still, Aurelian had quietly made a mental note of it.
Perhaps there was something that could be done.
Later.
Once he was no longer being held prisoner by blankets and medicinal tea.
Their shared status as outsiders had apparently been part of the reason Joshua had been assigned to him in the first place, and Aurelian found himself grateful for it.
Vaelmont was new to both of them, even if Joshua had arrived several weeks earlier. There was something comforting about learning the household together.
And Aurelian made certain to treat him accordingly.
Joshua assisted him, certainly, but Aurelian had little interest in having the boy stand silently in a corner all day awaiting orders. He asked him questions. Invited him to sit when there was nothing to do. Talked to him about books, Bellafonte, the capital, and whatever else happened to cross his mind.
By the eighth morning of confinement, however, even pleasant company was no longer enough.
A gentle knock sounded at the door.
Aurelian looked up from his book.
"Come in."
The door opened carefully, and Joshua stepped inside pushing a small cart.
"G-good morning, my lord."
He bowed.
Still too stiffly.
Aurelian had given up correcting that particular habit.
"Good morning, Joshua."
Joshua offered him a small, shy smile as he closed the door behind himself.
"How are y-you feeling today?"
"Better. Thank you for asking."
Aurelian closed his book and placed it beside him.
Much better, in fact.
His fever had finally broken sometime during the night after several miserable hours of drifting between sleep and wakefulness. His head no longer felt unbearably heavy, his throat barely hurt, and for the first time in days, the thought of standing did not seem exhausting.
Joshua pushed the cart closer to the bed and removed a pitcher of warm water. He poured some into a porcelain basin before wetting a clean cloth.
"The physician said that if your fever stayed away today, you m-might be allowed out tomorrow."
Aurelian stared at him.
"Tomorrow?"
Joshua hesitated.
"...Yes?"
Aurelian sighed deeply and sank farther into the pillows.
"I do not know if I can survive another day."
Joshua's lips twitched.
Aurelian narrowed his eyes.
"Are you laughing at me?"
"N-no."
"You are."
"I'm not"—Joshua quickly lowered his head, though the smile remained.
Aurelian accepted the basin from him and began washing his face.
After more than a week sweating beneath blankets, being able to wipe his face without his hands trembling felt wonderful.
He finished, set the cloth aside, and glanced toward the mirror across the room.
Color had finally returned to his cheeks, and his eyes were clearer.
He looked almost human again.
Aurelian smiled.
"I'm hungry."
Joshua reached toward the cart. "I brought breakfast. There's porridge, and the kitchen made—"
The blankets suddenly flew aside.
Joshua froze.
Aurelian swung his legs over the edge of the bed.
"My lord?"
His bare feet landed on the thick rug.
Aurelian stood.
The room shifted beneath him for half a second, then stopped.
Joshua immediately moved toward him, but Aurelian lifted one hand to stop him.
"I'm fine."
"You almost fell!"
"I did not."
"You w-wobbled!"
"A wobble is considerably different from falling."
Joshua stared at him.
Aurelian smiled. He removed the shawl from his shoulders and placed it neatly over the chair beside the bed.
"Help me dress."
Joshua's eyes widened.
"B-but—"
"It will be perfectly fine."
Aurelian crossed the room before the boy could protest further and opened the wardrobe.
Vaelmont's servants had added several pieces of proper winter clothing after his arrival, apparently deciding that Bellafonte's idea of cold-weather attire was laughably inadequate.
Aurelian could hardly argue with them anymore.
He reached inside and pulled out a simple black shirt and a pair of trousers.
Behind him, Joshua made a faint, distressed sound.
"But the d-duchess said you weren't supposed to leave."
Aurelian paused.
That was admittedly a complication.
He had hardly seen Seraphina since falling ill.
She had attempted to visit several times, according to Joshua, but commanding the royal knights while governing Vaelmont had apparently become especially demanding that week. Each time she intended to come, some meeting, report, patrol, or dispute seemed to demand her attention first.
Aurelian understood.
Of course he did.
Her responsibilities did not disappear simply because he had developed a fever.
Still...
He had missed her.
More than he cared to examine too closely.
Aurelian glanced over his shoulder.
Joshua was watching him nervously.
"Sera does not have to find out."
The name slipped from his mouth before he could reconsider it.
Joshua's expression somehow became even more alarmed.
Aurelian gave him a sheepish smile.
Joshua looked toward the door. Then back at Aurelian.
Then back toward the door again, as though calculating whether he could reach it before his increasingly troublesome patient escaped.
Unfortunately for him, Aurelian had already begun changing.
Joshua quickly turned around with a strangled noise.
"M-my lord!"
"What?"
"You could have warned me!"
Aurelian blinked.
"Oh."
He looked down at himself.
"My apologies."
Joshua covered his face with both hands.
Aurelian could practically feel the poor boy reconsidering every decision that had led him to employment in Vaelmont.
Still, Joshua did not run for the physician. That was encouraging.
Aurelian pulled on the shirt.
"Joshua."
The boy slowly lowered his hands.
"Yes?"
Aurelian smiled pleasantly.
"I would very much like something that is not porridge."
Joshua stared at him.
Aurelian reached for his trousers.
"And I believe the kitchen is downstairs."
Joshua's shoulders fell.
It seemed he had finally realized the truth.
Baron Bellafonte was leaving this room whether anyone approved of it or not.
· · ─ ·☽𖤓☾· ─ · ·
The kitchens were surprisingly quiet.
At this hour, only small groups of servants passed through now and then to steal a quick snack or collect something for their duties. Most of the kitchen maids and cooks were occupied preparing ingredients for the midday meal, chopping vegetables, kneading dough, and tending several large pots already simmering over the fires.
It was peaceful.
Until the door opened.
Aurelian stepped inside.
Immediately, every person in the kitchen froze.
A knife stopped halfway through a carrot.
Someone holding a basket of bread nearly dropped it.
The head cook slowly looked up from the counter.
"Baron Bellafonte?"
He said the name as though he could not quite believe the man standing before him was actually there.
Aurelian smiled brightly.
"Good morning."
He glanced toward one of the windows.
The sun was already considerably higher than he expected.
"Well. Good afternoon, I suppose."
He continued farther into the kitchen.
Joshua followed several steps behind him with the expression of someone accompanying a condemned man to the gallows.
The head cook stared.
"What brings you here, my lord?"
"I am hungry."
Aurelian said it so casually that several members of the kitchen staff exchanged confused glances.
The head cook recovered quickly.
"Of course. Lunch will be prepared shortly. If you would like, I can have something brought to your chambers immediately."
"No need."
Aurelian spotted one of the storage chests along the wall and crouched beside it.
"I'll cook."
Silence.
Behind him, Joshua made a tiny sound of despair.
Aurelian opened the chest.
The head cook's eyes widened.
"My lord?"
"Do you have any shoulder meat?"
Aurelian began searching through the vegetables stored inside.
"My lord, please, I can prepare whatever you would like."
"You are already busy."
Aurelian stood with several potatoes tucked against his chest, two carrots in one hand, and a few stalks of celery in the other.
The head cook stared at him.
Aurelian smiled.
"I'll make enough for everyone."
That did not appear to reassure anyone.
If anything, the kitchen became even quieter.
Aurelian looked around.
"...Is something wrong?"
One of the younger maids glanced toward the head cook before quickly lowering her eyes.
The head cook cleared his throat.
"You have only just recovered, my lord."
"Mostly recovered."
Joshua's head snapped toward him.
Aurelian ignored him.
"And Her Grace's physician specifically instructed you to rest."
"I have been resting."
"For more than a week," Joshua muttered.
Aurelian turned and pointed a celery stalk at the teen.
"Exactly."
"That was not agreement."
The head cook looked between them.
Aurelian returned his attention to the vegetables in his arms.
"I promise I am perfectly capable of preparing a stew."
The cook looked unconvinced.
Aurelian frowned slightly.
"It is actually one of the few things I am confident making."
That earned him several surprised looks.
A nobleman cooking at all was apparently strange enough.
A nobleman openly admitting that his culinary ability consisted primarily of one stew seemed stranger.
The head cook hurried around the counter.
"My lord, at least allow one of us to prepare the meat."
"You truly do not have to."
"I insist."
"So do I."
They stared at one another.
The head cook appeared deeply uncomfortable with the situation.
Aurelian appeared pleasantly determined.
Joshua buried his face in his hands.
Eventually, the head cook sighed.
"There is shoulder meat in the cold storage."
"Wonderful."
Aurelian placed the vegetables on the nearest empty table.
"Could someone show me where?"
No one moved for a moment until a kitchen maid slowly raised her hand.
"I can, my lord."
"Thank you."
He followed her toward the storage room while the rest of the kitchen continued staring.
Joshua hurried after them.
"My lord."
"Hm?"
"You should be in bed."
"I have spent eight days in bed."
"The physician said one more."
Aurelian glanced back at him.
"Joshua."
"Yes?"
"I am going to begin seeing those bed curtains in my dreams."
Joshua pressed his lips together.
"I believe that means you should sleep more."
Aurelian stopped walking.
The maid beside them made a suspicious choking sound.
Aurelian stared at Joshua.
Joshua's eyes widened.
"I-I didn't mean—"
Aurelian smiled.
"Was that a joke?"
Joshua immediately turned red.
"No."
"It was." Aurelian said, impressed. "You are becoming considerably bolder."
Joshua looked down at the floor.
Aurelian seemed delighted.
Perhaps the week had not been entirely wasted after all.
A few minutes later, Aurelian returned carrying a wrapped cut of meat while Joshua carried several onions and a bundle of herbs.
The kitchen staff watched as Aurelian rolled his sleeves above his elbows.
The head cook finally seemed unable to tolerate it any longer.
"My lord, please."
Aurelian looked up.
"If you burn yourself, cut yourself, collapse, worsen your fever, or otherwise injure yourself in my kitchen, I will personally be explaining it to Her Grace."
Aurelian considered that.
That was admittedly a very reasonable concern.
"I will be careful."
The cook did not look reassured.
Aurelian reached for a knife.
Three people visibly tensed.
He stopped.
Slowly, he looked around the kitchen.
Everyone was watching him.
"...Have none of you ever seen a nobleman hold a knife before?"
"Not for vegetables," one of the maids answered before she could stop herself.
Aurelian laughed.
That seemed to break some of the tension.
He began cutting the meat into manageable pieces, his movements slower than usual but practiced enough to reveal that he had, in fact, done this before.
The head cook's expression shifted from alarm to cautious curiosity.
"I learned when I was younger," Aurelian explained. "Our cook in Bellafonte believed every member of the household should know how to prepare at least one proper meal."
He glanced at the pile of vegetables.
"Mine happened to be stew."
"Only stew?" Joshua asked.
Aurelian paused.
"I can boil an egg."
Joshua blinked.
"And make tea."
Another pause.
"Usually."
A few quiet laughs moved through the kitchen.
Aurelian smiled.
There.
Much better.
Soon, onions were sizzling at the bottom of a large pot. The meat followed, then herbs, vegetables, broth, and a small collection of spices Aurelian selected after sniffing nearly every jar the kitchen staff handed him.
The entire time, someone hovered nearby.
Sometimes the head cook.
Sometimes Joshua.
Once, three maids simultaneously.
Aurelian finally looked over his shoulder.
"I assure you, I am not going to perish over a pot of stew."
No one answered.
He sighed.
"And it will not poison anyone."
A younger cook snorted.
Aurelian pointed the spoon at him.
"I heard that."
"My apologies, my lord."
"You do not sound particularly sorry."
The man's mouth twitched.
Aurelian returned to stirring.
"Just wait. You will all regret doubting me."
The head cook folded his arms.
"And if we don't?"
Aurelian considered the question.
"Then you may feed it to Joshua."
Joshua's head snapped up.
"My lord!"
Laughter finally broke through the kitchen.
Even the head cook smiled.
Aurelian grinned to himself and turned back toward the pot.
For the first time since arriving in Vaelmont, surrounded by chopping knives, warm fires, vegetables, herbs, and the growing scent of meat simmering in broth, he felt almost entirely like himself again.
· · ─ ·☽𖤓☾· ─ · ·
The council chamber was noisy.
That, in itself, was nothing unusual.
Several of the older men seated around the long table had spent the better part of the last half hour arguing over tax reductions, winter supply shortages, and exactly which district ought to bear the cost of repairing one of the western trade roads.
Seraphina listened.
She always listened.
Not because she was reluctant to interrupt them.
She simply knew there was little point.
Eventually, when everyone had exhausted every possible variation of the same three arguments, they would remember that she was the duchess and turn to her for an answer.
One of the councilmen was currently insisting that lowering the winter grain tax would encourage merchants to withhold stock until prices rose.
Another was loudly explaining why that made absolutely no sense.
Seraphina rested one elbow against the arm of her chair and waited.
She estimated another minute.
Perhaps two.
Then Lord Harcourt would become winded, Lord Vesser would realize he had repeated himself three times, and she could finally tell them both what they were going to do.
A gentle knock sounded at the door.
Neither man noticed.
Seraphina did.
"Enter."
The argument stopped almost immediately.
The door opened, and Arthur, the head attendant of the Vaelmont household, stepped inside.
He bowed.
"Your Grace."
Seraphina's attention immediately went to what he was carrying.
A small wooden bowl rested carefully between his hands.
Steam curled from its surface.
"What is it?"
The councilmen were watching now as well, apparently grateful for any interruption that allowed them a moment to recover.
Arthur crossed the room and placed the bowl before her.
"I was asked to deliver this by the head cook, Your Grace."
Seraphina looked down.
Stew. Beef, from the smell of it.
Chunks of potato and carrot sat in a thick broth alongside celery, onion, and herbs. It was noticeably different from the stews normally prepared in Vaelmont. The broth was darker, and there appeared to be considerably more seasoning than their cooks usually used.
Seraphina frowned.
"Is there something wrong with it?"
"No, Your Grace."
Arthur's expression remained perfectly composed.
Almost.
She saw the corner of his mouth twitch.
Seraphina's eyes narrowed.
"Arthur."
"The person who prepared it was Baron Bellafonte."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Seraphina stared at him.
Across the table, someone slowly lowered his cup.
"The baron," Seraphina repeated.
"Yes, Your Grace."
"The baron who has influenza."
Arthur hesitated. "The baron who had influenza, according to the baron."
A faint sound came from farther down the table.
Seraphina ignored it.
"The baron who was ordered by my physician not to leave his chambers."
"That would also be the one."
Seraphina looked back at the bowl.
Aurelian had been bedridden for over a week.
His fever had only broken the previous evening.
She had received the physician's report this morning and had been relieved to hear that his condition had finally improved.
Apparently, Aurelian had interpreted improved to mean permission to roam the fortress and begin cooking for the household.
She should have anticipated this.
He had barely lasted his first evening in Vaelmont before wandering through the halls in search of water because he had decided calling a servant would be inconvenient.
Seraphina closed her eyes briefly.
"How did he get to the kitchen?"
Arthur's lips twitched again.
"Walking, Your Grace."
A few councilmen suddenly became very interested in the papers before them.
Seraphina looked at him.
Arthur bowed his head. "My apologies."
"Where is Joshua?"
"With him."
That was somehow worse.
Seraphina had assigned the boy specifically because Joshua was gentle, attentive, and unlikely to overwhelm Aurelian while he recovered.
She had apparently failed to account for the possibility that Aurelian would turn around and overwhelm Joshua instead.
"And the kitchen staff allowed this?"
"I believe they attempted to stop him."
"Attempted."
"Repeatedly."
Seraphina stared at the stew again.
Arthur cleared his throat. "The head cook also wished me to inform you that Baron Bellafonte has fed several members of the kitchen staff."
Seraphina slowly looked up.
Arthur continued.
"No one has suffered any ill effects."
A chair creaked.
This time, Seraphina distinctly heard someone suppressing a laugh.
She ignored that too.
"Was that genuinely part of his message?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
Seraphina exhaled through her nose. Of course it was.
Her gaze returned to the bowl and she slowly picked up the spoon.
Several councilmen watched curiously as she took a small bite.
She paused.
It was good.
Different from Vaelmont cooking, certainly. Warmer in flavor, with more herbs and a faint hint of something smoky in the broth.
Very southern.
Seraphina took another bite.
Arthur's mouth twitched.
"Do not."
"I said nothing, Your Grace."
She set down the spoon.
Then pushed her chair back.
"I will retrieve him."
The council immediately became silent again.
One of the men spoke up now. "Your Grace, we have not yet finished discussing the western accounts."
"You have been discussing the western accounts for thirty-seven minutes."
No one responded.
Seraphina stood.
"I believe you can survive without me for ten."
She had barely taken a step when another voice came lazily from farther down the table.
"I'll get him."
Seraphina stopped.
The vice commander had been remarkably quiet throughout the meeting.
That alone should have concerned her.
She sat several seats away, having apparently found the council's argument considerably less interesting than everyone else. While the older men had been shouting themselves hoarse over grain and taxes, she had spent most of the meeting leaning back in her chair, one long leg stretched comfortably beneath the table.
Now she looked considerably more entertained.
Seraphina studied her.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I know you."
The vice commander's grin widened.
"Exactly. I'll have him back before you finish the stew."
"That is precisely what concerns me."
A few council members exchanged glances.
The woman rose anyway.
She towered over everyone seated around the table.
"I've been listening to these men argue about grain for half an hour. Let me do something useful."
"We were discussing taxation," Lord Harcourt protested.
"Grain taxation."
"That is not the same thing."
"It sounded the same after the first fifteen minutes."
Seraphina rubbed her temple.
The vice commander was already walking toward the door.
"Maliha."
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder.
Seraphina gave her a warning look.
"Do not frighten him."
Maliha's expression became deeply offended.
"Me?"
"Yes. You."
"I am delightful."
Seraphina stared at her.
Maliha grinned.
"I'll bring your baron back in one piece."
Several heads turned toward Seraphina.
Seraphina's expression went cold.
"Baron Bellafonte is not my baron."
Maliha opened the door.
"Of course, Your Grace."
The door closed behind her.
Silence settled over the council chamber.
Seraphina slowly turned toward the table.
Every man present immediately looked down at his papers.
She sat.
Picked up her spoon.
And took another bite of Aurelian's stew.
"Continue."
For several seconds, no one dared speak.
Then Lord Vesser quietly cleared his throat.
"As I was saying about the grain tax..."
The argument began again.
Seraphina listened.
And tried not to wonder what exactly she had just unleashed upon Aurelian Bellafonte.
· · ─ ·☽𖤓☾· ─ · ·
Aurelian sat at the end of one of the long preparation counters, slowly finishing his second bowl of stew.
He had been told quite firmly that one bowl was enough.
Aurelian had disagreed.
After more than a week of porridge, broth, soft bread, and whatever else the physician considered appropriate for an invalid, he felt he had earned a second helping.
Joshua stood nearby with a small piece of bread in his hands while several members of the kitchen staff lingered around them.
What had begun as cautious questions about the stew had somehow turned into an entire conversation about southern cooking.
"You really use that much spice?" one of the younger cooks asked.
"More, depending on the dish."
The man's eyebrows lifted.
Aurelian smiled.
"Bellafonte grows quite a bit of it, so we tend to be generous."
"What kinds?"
"Pepper, coriander, ginger, turmeric. Several varieties of chilies." Aurelian counted them loosely on his fingers. "There are others farther south, especially closer to the port. Sterling's wife once sent Mother a spice blend from one of the coastal markets that was so strong my father coughed for nearly five minutes."
Joshua smiled around his bread.
"Did he still eat it?"
"Of course."
Aurelian took another spoonful.
"He said allowing food to defeat him would be humiliating."
A few of the kitchen workers laughed.
Even the head cook, who had spent the first several minutes watching Aurelian as though he expected the baron to sever a finger, had eventually admitted that the stew was good.
Aurelian considered that a tremendous victory.
The conversation continued easily after that.
Someone asked about southern bread.
Another wanted to know whether Bellafonte truly served fruit with savory dishes.
Aurelian was halfway through explaining how his mother liked peaches roasted alongside pork when—
The kitchen door burst open.
Aurelian jumped.
His spoon slipped from his fingers and struck the stone floor with a sharp clatter.
"Oh!"
He immediately bent down.
"My apologies."
He could hear movement all around him but was considerably more concerned with the utensil he had just dropped.
Aurelian snatched it from the floor.
"I'll wash this. I didn't mean to—"
He straightened.
And stopped.
Everyone was bowing.
Deeply.
Even the head cook had lowered his head.
Beside him, Joshua looked as though someone had informed him that execution was imminent.
The boy's hands were clasped tightly in front of himself, and his shoulders had gone completely rigid.
Aurelian slowly turned toward the doorway.
Then looked up.
And farther up.
His first thought was that the woman standing there was enormous.
Not broad.
Not ungainly.
Simply—
Tall.
Aurelian was accustomed to being one of the taller men in most rooms. At a little over six feet, he rarely needed to look upward when speaking to someone.
He would have to look upward at her.
By several inches.
She stood in the doorway with complete ease, one shoulder resting lightly against the frame as though she had wandered into the kitchen purely because she had nothing better to do.
Her skin was a deep, warm brown.
Long, coarse black hair fell heavily down her back, partially bound away from her face but otherwise left loose.
Her clothing was unlike anything Aurelian had seen worn by the Vaelmont knights.
Black fabric wrapped closely around her legs beneath a long red outer garment split for movement, the edges decorated with dark embroidery. Leather guards covered her forearms, and several small pieces of gold hung from the belt at her waist.
They jingled softly when she moved.
Foreign.
That was Aurelian's immediate impression.
Not Evelinian.
Certainly not Vaelmont.
And very clearly someone important.
Aurelian looked down at the spoon still clutched in his hand.
Then at everyone bowing.
Perhaps he should be bowing too.
Before he could decide, the woman looked around the room.
Her eyes were gold.
Not amber.
Gold.
They traveled over the cooks, the maids, Joshua—
Then landed on him.
Crimson met gold.
The woman's mouth slowly curved into a grin.
Aurelian had the sudden, uncomfortable feeling that he had just been found.
"There you are, Sahar."
Aurelian blinked.
He looked behind himself.
There was no one there.
He turned back.
The woman was still staring directly at him.
"...Pardon?"
Her grin widened.
Then she pushed away from the doorway and began walking toward him.
The gold at her waist jingled with every step.
Joshua somehow became even paler.
Aurelian remained where he was, spoon still in hand, rapidly attempting to determine three things.
Who this woman was.
Why everyone seemed terrified of her.
And, most importantly, who in the world was Sahar?
The woman stopped directly in front of him.
Aurelian immediately became aware of just how tall she truly was.
He had to tilt his head back slightly to meet her eyes.
That alone was unfamiliar enough to make him nervous.
Around them, the kitchen had gone completely silent.
Every servant seemed to be holding their breath.
Joshua looked as though his soul had quietly abandoned his body.
The woman studied Aurelian for a moment. Then her face lit up.
"You really are bright!"
Her laugh boomed through the kitchen.
Before Aurelian could react, one large hand landed on top of his head.
His eyes widened.
She ruffled his hair.
Actually ruffled it.
Aurelian went completely still.
His golden hair fell messily over his forehead as heat rushed into his face.
No one had patted his head since he was a child!
The woman seemed delighted.
Aurelian, meanwhile, was rapidly losing any understanding of the situation.
"E-excuse me."
She looked down at him.
Aurelian attempted to smooth his hair back into place.
"May I ask who you are?"
She blinked.
Then frowned.
"Boring."
Aurelian stared.
"...Pardon?"
Her hand moved.
Aurelian barely had time to register what was happening before her fingers caught the back of his shirt near the collar.
Then she turned.
And started walking.
Aurelian lurched forward.
"W-wait!"
His feet scrambled beneath him as he was dragged away from the counter.
The kitchen staff remained frozen.
Joshua made a strangled noise.
Aurelian twisted around as best he could.
His bowl sat abandoned on the counter.
"My stew!"
The woman did not slow down.
Aurelian stretched one arm desperately toward it.
He met nothing but air.
"I wasn't finished!"
She hauled him through the doorway as though he weighed no more than a sack of flour.
Joshua finally seemed to recover.
"M-my lord!"
He rushed after them.
Aurelian glanced helplessly over his shoulder.
"Joshua!"
"Yes?!"
"Save my food!"
Joshua nearly tripped.
The head cook slowly straightened from his bow.
For several seconds, he simply stared at the open doorway.
Then he looked toward the abandoned bowl.
His expression shifted into complete disbelief.
"He's worried about the stew?"
That was the last thing Joshua heard before he chased after his lord.
Eventually, Aurelian admitted defeat.
There was only so long a man could struggle with dignity while being carried by the back of his shirt.
His feet still touched the floor occasionally, but not reliably enough to call what he was doing walking. So Aurelian simply allowed himself to dangle from the woman's grip and attempted not to think too deeply about the situation.
She, meanwhile, had not stopped talking.
Not once.
They passed through corridor after corridor, and every servant they encountered seemed to react in exactly the same way.
First came recognition.
Then surprise, an immediate bow, and, once the pair had passed, staring.
Aurelian could feel every pair of eyes following them.
He knew what they saw.
A very tall woman carrying Baron Bellafonte through the fortress like a child who had thrown a tantrum and refused to walk.
It was humiliating.
Deeply humiliating.
Unfortunately, he was far too embarrassed to tell her that.
So he stared resolutely ahead and pretended none of it was happening.
"—and you look strong enough," the woman continued, glancing down at him, "but apparently you're feeble."
Aurelian frowned.
"Feeble?"
"You became ill almost immediately."
"The weather changed rather drastically."
"Excuses."
Aurelian opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
She continued without waiting for an answer.
"We need to put some meat on those bones. You're too thin."
Aurelian glanced down at himself.
He had always considered himself lean.
Apparently, to this woman, that was synonymous with starving.
"Can you wield a sword?"
"No."
"I can teach you."
Aurelian blinked.
"It'll be fun."
He did not think they shared the same definition of fun.
"I...cannot use a weapon unless you count a rake or a shovel."
She looked down at him.
"A rake."
"Yes."
"And a shovel."
"Yes."
Her grin returned.
"Very rural."
Aurelian wasn't sure whether that was an insult.
"You really are from the south."
"I have never denied it."
"I've only been there a few times." Her grip shifted slightly at his collar as she continued walking. "Never long enough to enjoy the weather properly. Too warm for all that armor, though. I thought I was going to melt."
"You were wearing armor in Bellafonte?"
"Not Bellafonte."
"Oh."
"Farther east."
That caught his attention.
Aurelian tilted his head slightly, though the angle was awkward while being carried.
"Then you have traveled quite a bit."
"More than I'd like."
Her answer came easily, but something about it made Aurelian hesitate.
Before he could ask more, she immediately continued.
"Your south has good fruit and spices, though."
"It does."
"I like the red ones."
"Chilies?"
"Probably."
Aurelian stared at her.
"You do not know what they were called?"
"I ate them. I didn't interview them."
Aurelian nearly laughed.
He believed he caught himself just in time, but the woman glanced down at him anyway.
"Was that a laugh, Sahar?"
"No."
"You're a terrible liar."
Aurelian looked away.
That only seemed to amuse her more.
She continued talking, bouncing between subjects with very little warning.
The southern climate.
Weapons.
Horses.
Did Bellafonte truly have fields filled entirely with sunflowers.
Had Aurelian ever fought anyone.
Could he ride a horse.
Had he always worn his hair so long.
Aurelian answered wherever he could manage.
It was exhausting trying to keep up with her, but perhaps that was a blessing.
As long as he concentrated on the conversation, he could pretend not to notice the servants bowing, the knights staring, or the maids whispering once they thought he was too far away to hear.
Behind them, Joshua followed at a cautious distance, looking torn between several conflicting responsibilities.
He had been assigned to remain near Baron Bellafonte.
Baron Bellafonte was currently being hauled through the fortress like a particularly troublesome piece of luggage.
And the woman responsible was clearly important enough that everyone they passed bowed deeply to her.
Joshua seemed completely uncertain whether rescuing Aurelian would be courageous or career-ending.
So he settled for following.
Closely enough to intervene if something terrible happened.
Far enough away that the woman might forget he existed.
Aurelian glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of him.
Joshua immediately straightened.
Aurelian attempted a reassuring smile.
It probably would have been more effective if his feet had been on the ground.
Joshua looked even more worried.
Aurelian sighed.
He turned forward again.
The woman continued talking.
And Aurelian began to suspect that wherever she was taking him, he might arrive there without ever learning her name.
By the time Aurelian realized where the woman had taken him, one of the doors ahead opened.
He recognized the black boots first.
His gaze traveled upward.
Black trousers. A fitted black coat. Silver clasps catching the light.
Then moonlit hair.
Seraphina stepped into the corridor, turning at the sound of approaching footsteps.
Her icy-blue eyes found his.
Aurelian's heart clenched.
It had only been a little over a week.
Surely that was not long enough to miss someone this much.
But he had.
He really had missed seeing her.
A smile had already begun tugging at his lips when Seraphina's gaze shifted upward.
Her expression immediately flattened.
"Maliha."
Aurelian blinked.
The woman carrying him stopped.
Seraphina's eyes dropped pointedly toward the fist still tangled in the back of Aurelian's shirt.
"Put him down."
"Okay, boss."
Maliha released him.
Aurelian dropped the remaining few inches onto his feet.
He stumbled once, caught his balance, and immediately reached behind himself to straighten his abused shirt.
Seraphina's expression remained thoroughly unimpressed.
"I expect my vice commander to conduct herself with some dignity."
"Where's the fun in that?"
Aurelian froze.
His hands stopped at his collar.
Vice commander?
Slowly, he turned his head.
Maliha stood beside him as if nothing unusual had happened, rolling one shoulder and grinning at Seraphina without the slightest concern that she was speaking to the Duchess of Vaelmont.
The person he had heard mentioned several times.
The person who worked closely beside Seraphina.
The person whose relationship with Seraphina Aurelian had, on one or two admittedly foolish occasions, wondered about far more than was necessary.
Perhaps even feeling—
He immediately refused to finish that thought.
Aurelian stared at Maliha.
This towering woman had stormed into the kitchen, ruffled his hair, stolen him away from his stew, and carried him through half the fortress as though he weighed nothing at all.
This was Seraphina's vice commander?
Maliha caught him staring.
She grinned.
Aurelian quickly looked away.
Standing beside one another, the contrast between the two women was almost absurd.
Seraphina reminded him of a wolf.
Beautiful, controlled, watchful, and dangerous when provoked. Everything about her carried a quiet sharpness, from her icy gaze to the straight line of her shoulders.
Maliha was—
A bear.
A very tall, very cheerful bear who, apparently, enjoyed carrying people around by their clothing.
The wolf looked irritated.
The bear looked delighted.
Aurelian decided it would be wiser not to comment on either observation.
Then Seraphina began walking toward him.
His embarrassment disappeared almost instantly.
He smiled. "How was your meeting?"
"It was fine."
She stopped directly before him.
"Unlike you."
Aurelian barely had time to look confused before Seraphina reached up and pinched his nose.
He squeaked.
Actually squeaked.
Maliha's eyebrows shot upward.
Aurelian immediately went red.
"Your Grace!"
Seraphina released him.
"I never took you for someone who disobeyed a physician's orders."
"I was bored."
Seraphina stared at him.
Aurelian rubbed his nose indignantly.
"I have been confined to one room for over a week. There are only so many books one can read before the walls begin closing in."
"You had a fever last night."
"It broke."
"Last night."
"I feel considerably better today."
"That does not mean you have recovered."
"I ate two bowls of stew."
Seraphina paused.
Aurelian nodded as though this proved everything.
Behind him, Maliha snorted.
Seraphina looked toward her.
Maliha immediately examined the ceiling.
Aurelian crossed his arms.
"I cooked it myself."
"I know."
His expression brightened.
"You received some?"
"Arthur brought it to the council chamber."
"And?"
Seraphina hesitated.
Aurelian waited expectantly.
"It was good."
His entire face lit up.
Seraphina looked away for a moment.
Of course, Maliha noticed, and her grin slowly returned.
Seraphina ignored her.
She looked back at Aurelian, studying his face more carefully now. The irritation in her expression softened.
Then, without warning, she lifted her hand.
Aurelian went still.
Her bare palm settled gently against his forehead.
The warmth of her skin surprised him. His heart seemed to forget what it was supposed to be doing.
For several seconds, Seraphina said nothing.
She simply held her hand there, checking for any lingering fever.
Aurelian stared at her.
He could feel heat creeping steadily across his cheeks.
Seraphina frowned.
"You're warm."
"I am?"
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Is your face red because you're embarrassed, or are you feverish again?"
Aurelian swallowed.
"Maybe both."
A sharp whistle came from beside them.
Aurelian nearly jumped.
Maliha stood with her arms crossed, wearing the most insufferable smirk he had ever seen. "Well."
Seraphina did not remove her hand.
"Maliha."
"I didn't say anything."
"You were about to."
"I was thinking very loudly."
"Stop."
Maliha's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
Aurelian desperately wished the floor would open beneath him.
Seraphina finally lowered her hand.
"You do not feel feverish."
Aurelian released a breath he had not realized he was holding.
"I told you I was better."
"Better is not recovered."
"But it is closer."
Seraphina stared at him.
Aurelian smiled hopefully.
Her expression remained stern for several seconds.
Then the smallest amount of tension left her shoulders.
Aurelian considered that a victory.
Maliha, unfortunately, appeared to consider the entire interaction entertainment.
"You are still not absolved of leaving your room without permission."
Aurelian's smile faltered.
Seraphina watched him for a moment.
"But I will leave you alone for now."
His expression brightened again.
"Unfortunately, I have to finish the council meeting."
The break had only been temporary. Two of the councilmen had managed to turn a minor disagreement into yet another argument, and Seraphina had taken the opportunity to step away before she was forced to listen to them repeat themselves for another half hour.
"I apologize for the short greeting," she continued. "I will seek you out later."
Aurelian perked up immediately.
"Really?"
Seraphina paused.
"Yes."
His smile widened.
"To prevent you from frightening my cooks any further."
Aurelian's expression changed at once.
"I did not frighten them."
Seraphina merely looked at him.
Aurelian hesitated.
"...Did I?"
The faintest smile touched her mouth.
It was gone almost immediately.
Aurelian narrowed his eyes.
"You are teasing me."
"I would never."
He did not believe her for a second.
Seraphina turned toward Maliha.
"Maliha."
The vice commander straightened slightly.
"Take him wherever he wishes to go today. Do not let him overexert himself, and make certain he returns to his chambers before evening."
Maliha lifted one hand in a casual salute.
"No problem, Aaila."
Aurelian blinked.
Aaila?
Seraphina showed no reaction to the name.
So Maliha had a nickname for her too.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Aurelian stored that information away for later.
Seraphina returned her attention to him.
"Do not make me regret allowing this."
"I will behave."
Maliha snorted.
Aurelian looked offended.
"I will."
Seraphina clearly had doubts.
She took a small step backward.
As she did, her fingers brushed lightly against Aurelian's hand.
Barely more than a passing touch.
Still, he felt it.
His fingers curled instinctively afterward.
"I will be back," Seraphina said.
Aurelian nodded.
"Of course."
Then she turned and disappeared through the council chamber doors.
Aurelian watched them close.
For just a moment, he forgot entirely about the towering woman beside him.
Then—
"All right, Sahar. Let us—"
Maliha stopped.
Aurelian turned.
Her attention had shifted past him.
Toward Joshua.
The boy had been standing several paces behind them the entire time, quiet enough that Aurelian had nearly forgotten he was there.
Apparently, Maliha had too.
Joshua realized she was looking at him.
His entire body stiffened.
Maliha's eyes lit up.
Joshua made a tiny squeaking sound. "G-greetings, Vice C-Commander!"
He bowed so quickly Aurelian feared he might strike his forehead against his knees.
Maliha stared at him.
Joshua remained bowed.
Then she grinned.
"Oh."
Joshua slowly straightened.
Maliha stepped closer.
"You are adorable."
Joshua's face went scarlet.
Aurelian blinked.
"I—"
Joshua did not get any farther.
Maliha bent down.
Then, with absolutely no warning, scooped him into her arms.
Joshua's soul appeared to leave his body for the second time that afternoon.
His feet lifted completely from the floor.
Maliha held him easily against her chest, one arm beneath his knees and the other supporting his back as though he weighed no more than a child.
Joshua stared at her in horror.
Aurelian stared at both of them.
Maliha beamed.
"So small!"
"I-I am not small!"
"You are to me."
Joshua looked desperately toward Aurelian.
"My lord."
Aurelian opened his mouth.
Closed it.
He genuinely had no idea what he was supposed to do.
"Maliha," he finally said carefully.
"Hm?"
"Perhaps you should put Joshua down."
"Why?"
Aurelian glanced at the boy.
Joshua looked moments away from fainting.
"I believe he may die."
Maliha looked down at him.
Joshua's face had turned an alarming shade of red.
"Oh."
She considered this. Then she grinned.
"Cute."
Joshua made another strangled noise.
Aurelian rubbed his forehead.
Only a few minutes ago, he had wondered whether Maliha's behavior toward him had been some strange form of personal amusement.
Apparently not. This was simply Maliha.
She carried people, teased them, invaded personal space without hesitation, and seemed to find embarrassment endlessly entertaining.
Aurelian watched as Joshua attempted to explain, through severe stuttering, that he was perfectly capable of walking on his own.
Maliha listened with obvious delight.
Aurelian sighed.
Seraphina had left him in the care of a woman who treated grown men and teenage boys like particularly interesting house pets.
He was beginning to understand why she had looked so tired.
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