There was no answer.
Sera tried next. She carried a small tray warm bread, clear soup, a glass of milk. She rested her forehead against the door, just as Demian had done the night before, but with a different kind of pain.
"My lady… you are pregnant. You cannot do this."
Silence.
The door had become a wall.
Hour after hour passed. The sun climbed higher. The castle stirred to life servants' footsteps, the clink of tableware yet one room on the upper floor remained frozen in stillness.
And Demian…
Demian unraveled.
He was in his study, the windows thrown wide open, but the cold air did nothing to calm him. His desk was crowded with untouched documents. His tea had gone cold long ago.
"How long?" he asked sharply.
"Since last night, Your Grace," one of the head servants replied hesitantly. "Lady Valerie has not come out. She hasn't eaten."
The words hasn't eaten made Demian's jaw tighten.
"Damn it," he muttered.
