Freedom.
Sweet, noble-born, long-overdue freedom.
No more nobles to escort. No more poisoned dinners to dodge. No more overly polite fake laughter echoing through the halls.
Clara, however… hadn't said a single word since the gathering ended.
She'd smiled at guests, nodded at maids, poured wine for Orion Leon without spilling a drop—but to me? Nothing. Not even a sigh. Just... silence. Heavier than a sack of gold, sharper than a dagger between the ribs.
She sat through dinner at my side like a statue, making occasional remarks only when she had to. Her expression didn't change—not when Ashen was dragged off in chains, not even when the evening wrapped up with applause.
Not even a flicker of relief.
I handled the rest of my hostly duties like a well-trained dog. The foreign guests, Orion and Sylvia Leon, were given rooms in the main castle.
I'd rather not have another diplomatic incident by stuffing them in the guest tower with the rest of the nobles.
Orion gave me a polished smile, as usual, practically oozing compliments and wine.
"Such diligence, Lord Hugo," he said with that glint in his eyes. "It's no wonder your duchy still stands strong."
This guy is completely drunk.
Sylvia, ever the mystery, gave me a small, parting smile.
Then they were gone, and I was left with Clara trailing behind me like a silent specter in black and white lace.
I made my way through the halls slowly. Part of me hoped she'd speak first. But the other part... It was bracing for impact.
I opened the door to my chambers.
She followed me in.
And then… click.
She locked the door.
Oh good.
Now I was the mouse in the cage. Lovely.
I turned to face her, and yep there it was. That stare. The one she'd been holding back all evening.
"Young Master," she began, her voice calm, low… but it carried an edge that could split a gemstone.
Here we go.
"I know you're tired," she said, folding her hands before her, her eyes locked onto mine. "You've done more than anyone tonight. Entertained nobles, outwitted an assassin, and still managed to smile like nothing was wrong."
"Wow," I said. "You make me sound like a hero. Should I get a medal, or is tea an acceptable reward?"
Her eyes narrowed. Not amused.
She stepped closer.
"But I want to ask you something, my lord. About this afternoon."
I tilted my head. "Yes?"
"The early lunch." Her voice grew softer now, and something glinted in her eyes. "You asked me to serve it early, didn't you? Even though there was no real reason to… at least, not for me."
Ah. There it was.
She took another step, and I suddenly felt like the walls were a little too close.
"It wasn't a whim," she said, her voice catching ever so slightly. "You planned it. The whole thing. You staged everything."
I scratched my cheek. "Okay, when you say it like that, it sounds worse than it was."
"You used yourself as bait."
I winced.
"You let yourself walk straight into a trap when I—" she broke off, eyes flickering with something raw. "When I was right there."
She looked away. "You could have used me instead."
I sighed.
"They wouldn't have taken the bait if it was you," I said gently. "They're not idiots. Why would anyone jump out of the shadows to attack someone who could slice them in half before breakfast?"
"They would've waited, or worse, backed off entirely."
Her jaw clenched, and her gaze dropped to the floor.
"And if I had told you," I continued, "you wouldn't have let me do it. You'd have found a hundred ways to talk me out of it. Or worse, just tied me to a chair until it was all over."
Silence.
She whispered, "What if I hadn't stopped the daggers?"
That made me freeze.
Her voice trembled—barely above a whisper. "What if I was too slow? What if I failed you…?"
"You didn't," I said, softer now. "You didn't."
She shook her head, biting her lip.
I watched her, and a quiet thought drifted through my mind.
Loyalty status: 72%.
It had jumped from 61 in just three days. That wasn't a small thing. Now it's showing it's effect, Clara from few days ago would never let her emotions take over, even if they did they wouldn't to the extent of tears filling her eyes.
I tried to soften my tone. Making her cry is the last thing I wanted to do, especially after putting her through all that with out a word before hand.
"I knew you'd adapt," I said. "I knew you'd protect me, even without knowing the full story. I trusted you."
She looked at me, tears welling in her eyes. The usual cold gleam in them had melted away, leaving nothing but fragile, terrifying honesty.
"…I hate seeing you hurt," she said. "Even if it's what you planned."
"There isn't a single scratch on me, what do you think the reason is?"
...........
She looks exhausted, more emotionally than physically, I shouldn't hold back anymore.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly.
She blinked. Her eyes widened like I'd slapped her.
"...No....That's not fair," she murmured. "I'm the one who acted out of line. I should be punished for it."
I raised an eyebrow. "Clara."
She bowed her head, cheeks flushed. "Forgive me, my lord. I… I let my emotions get the better of me."
"Clara," I said again, walking a step closer. "You're my personal attendant. And I like my people this way."
She looked up.
Confused. Surprised. Her face turning red and her gaze unsettling.
"Fierce. Loyal. Honest," I added, and her lips twitched. She could no longer match my gaze.
She curtsied, low and elegant. "Then… I shall.. take my leave for the night."
I nodded. She decided to leave before her confused mind made her say or do things that couldn't be changed.
She walked to the door.
But before she touched it, I called out.
"Clara."
She turned.
I bowed. Just slightly. Just enough.
"Thank you. For everything."
She stared at me, utterly stiff...holding back a storm of tears.
Then she curtsied once more, voice low.
"I'll return tomorrow, my lord."
And she slipped out.
The door closed behind her, and I stood there for a while…
My calculations were slightly off, I shouldn't confuse the present Clara with the Clara from few days ago.
But it's not that easy, the change in loyalty status was never reflected in her actions, atleast, that has been the case until few minutes ago.
.
The tea was rich and fragrant, but not the kind I was used to.
Brewed from Falcon Duchy-grown herbs, its warmth lingered longer on the tongue—subtle, unfamiliar, earthy. Linette said it was one of their finer blends. Still, I missed the crisp citrus of Leon's eastern leaves.
"Yesterday did he give you any trouble young lady?, I noticed you were gone for a considerable amount of time at the gathering." Linette said behind me as she adjusted my shawl. "Typical. They say the young lord is always like this—lazy, distracted, never where he should be."
She tugged a little too hard at the fabric near my collarbone.
"Always late to court, barely shows interest in his duties. A man like that isn't suited for someone like you, milady. You deserve someone—"
"Enough, Linette."
She blinked.
I turned to face her, voice calm but final.
"Judging someone based on gossip, when you've never seen them in person, is something only fools do."
The silence between us thickened.
"I wasn't trying to be disrespectful, I just—"
"You were," I cut in. "You speak too easily of people you don't understand. If you wish to remain by my side, you'll stop."
"…Yes, Lady Sylvia."
I turned back to the window.
The warmth from the cup had cooled.
I hadn't even realized I was gripping it so tightly.
Because last night… I saw something far removed from the rumors.
Lord Hugo, standing amid a web of danger, unshaken. Acting not with bravery, but with deliberation. Every step felt rehearsed, but not rigid—like he had accounted for everything. Even me.
The entire operation unfolded without spectacle.
I didn't see Sir Sebastian fight. Most of his battle happened in the darkness, far from the glow of lanterns. I could only hear muffled metal and quick deaths, no footsteps. No screams. Like he moved in silence, as if shadows bent around him.
But Clara…
Clara fought in plain sight, because she had to remain near Lord Hugo. She was the only barrier between him and death, and she moved like a tempest disguised as a woman.
Her every motion—fluid, controlled, lethal.
There was no wasted movement. No hesitation. Only precision born of experience I could barely comprehend.
That was strength.
Real strength.
I'd sparred with seasoned knights, trained beneath instructors renowned across two duchies, and yet watching her, I understood—I was still far behind.
Worse, I might never catch up.
Because my innate skill, Mind's Canvas, wasn't made for battle. It was a support-type ability. I could share my vision with those near me, extending my awareness, helping with strategy and coordination.
But no matter how many people I shared it with, it wouldn't make me faster. Wouldn't protect me when I was alone. Wouldn't save someone standing in front of me.
My grip loosened from the teacup. I set it down gently on the tray.
"Shall we, milady?" Linette asked, already moving to open the door.
"Yes."
We made our way through the castle's hallways—quiet, sunlit, serene. Falcon soldiers patrolled at intervals, all well-trained, eyes forward, postures clean. I noticed their glances toward me, polite but cautious. Expected, considering who I was.
At the entrance to the flower garden, two guards bowed and opened the gate.
I stepped inside.
There he was.
Lord Hugo sat at a small white table, elegant yet comfortably at ease, a teacup resting in his hand. Sunlight framed him in gold, and yet, somehow, he looked like someone who'd barely slept.
Behind him stood Clara—silent, composed.
Her expression was unreadable… except for the brief smile tugging at her lips. Soft. Subtle. Her gaze fixed on Lord Hugo, enjoying the tea.
She got back to her usual stern self the moment she noticed me.
I approached slowly, brushing my fingers along a nearby bloom.
This morning might not be as predictable as I thought.