Winter had not yet reached the capital but in Valdor, it had already settled in. The duchy, nestled deep within the northern cold lands, felt its presence early. Nights had turned biting cold, though the days still held a faint trace of warmth.
Sunlight filtered through the carefully trimmed hedges of the ducal garden, casting dappled shadows across the long dining table set beneath the canopy. Silver gleamed against porcelain, and the soft clink of cutlery blended with the low murmur of conversation.
By all appearances, it was a pleasant gathering.
Yet not everyone at the table was truly present.
Alaric Sidereon, heir to the Duke of Valdor, sat with a casual, almost detached grace, one leg folded beneath him. His crystalline blue eyes remained fixed on the documents in his hand; his blonde hair was stirred by a breeze he didn't seem to feel. The meal before him lay untouched, its warmth already fading.
"Aric" his mother, Ruhina, finally snapped, her voice cutting through the peaceful atmosphere.
"What is the point of joining us for lunch if you intend to bury your head in those papers?"
He didn't respond immediately.
He finished reading the line before responding.
"I told you I have no appetite for heavy meals, Mother. You simply chose not to listen."
His eyes passed indifferently over the untouched dishes before settling back on his work.
Ruhina sighed, her frustration tinged with genuine worry.
"You need to eat properly if you want to keep working like this. All you do is work the entire day."
Lunette, seated beside him, spoke gently.
"Should I ask them to prepare something lighter for you, brother?"
Before Alaric could respond, Ruhina interjected.
"Don't bother, Your Highness. He's simply being difficult."
Alaric paid no mind to the exchange. To him, even the smallest loss of time was unacceptable. He considered most mundane things a waste. Even something as necessary as eating felt inefficient. If it were not required for survival, he would have eliminated it entirely.
He rarely attended gatherings like this. The only reason he was present now was because Princess Lunette, his cousin, was visiting for the last time before departing for another country, where she would soon be married.
"Why are you so unbearably cold, brother?"
Seraphine chimed in, spreading jam with a playful flourish.
"I still haven't forgotten the Spring Ball."
Alaric didn't look up. "I've committed many offenses. You'll need to be specific."
"That poor Count's daughter," Seraphine continued. "She spent months finding the courage to ask you for a dance."
Alaric's gaze shifted to his sister. "I did her a favor."
"A favor?" Lunette leaned in, intrigued. "I heard she left the ballroom in tears."
"He looked her in the eye," Seraphine laughed, though there was a hint of a shudder in it, "and asked why there was a child wandering the ballroom. Then he told her to go find her parents."
"She was a debutante!" Ruhina added, trying to maintain a stern face. "She was there to find a suitor."
The women erupted into a fit of stifled giggles. Alaric let out a long, weary sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, his crystalline eyes remaining fixed on the paper.
He turned his head to the left, seeking the refuge of silence, but found something much heavier.
Sitting to his left was Serik, slumped, his mind clearly miles away.
He wasn't eating; he was merely using his fork to etch deep, repetitive grooves into the glaze of his porcelain plate.
Screeeh... Screeeh...
Alaric, without a word, reached out his left hand and placed it firmly over Serik's hand, pinning the fork to the plate. The screeching stopped instantly.
He didn't pull away, keeping his hand there, a warm weight on his brother's cold skin.
"Eat," Alaric commanded. It was just one word, but it cut through the noise of the table like a knife.
He went back to his documents, his left hand still anchored to his brother, while his right hand returned to the silent world of ledgers.
Around them, the conversation resumed. Lunette reached for a tart, her expression softening.
"Aunt," she whispered, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
"I shall miss these."
Ruhina smiled faintly, dabbing her lips with grace.
"Then I shall have it prepared and sent to you, Your Highness. You will not be allowed to forget my cooking so easily."
"I would be most grateful," Lunette replied.
"Though I suspect it will make the distance feel all the greater."
Her smile faltered as she looked at Alaric. "How are the preparations for my departure?"
"Progressing," Alaric said, finally lowering his paper. "One week remains."
Lunette's smile softened, though it did not quite fade.
"One week feels far too short."
"It's inevitable, my dear," Ruhina said gently, though there was firmness beneath it. "One does not choose such paths for comfort."
A quiet pause followed.
"You will find your footing soon enough,"
Alaric lowered the paper slightly. His tone was calm. "Adjustment is rarely kind, but it gets better with time."
Lunette glanced at him. "Brother, you speak as though it is easily done."
"It is not," he replied.
"Life is simply the art of enduring what we cannot change."
He paused, a faint smile touching his lips.
"But if the enduring becomes too much, tell me. I'll bring the Valdor cavalry and escort you back myself."
Lunette's genuine chuckle broke the tension, but only for a moment.
Seraphine, who had been shredding a mint leaf with her fingernails, leaned back.
"It still sounds dreadful," she murmured.
"Shipped off to a foreign empire like a crate of fine silk. To live among strangers."
"It is not dread, Seraphine," Ruhina corrected sharply. "It is duty."
"Sometimes," Seraphine whispered, "they are indistinguishable."
Ruhina's eyes flashed, but she chose silence. Her attention shifted to Serik.
His fork moved idly across his plate, tracing thoughtless patterns. He had not taken a proper bite in some time.
Lunette followed Ruhina's gaze.
"Brother," she called lightly, tilting her head,
"you seem… troubled."
He blinked, as though drawn back from a distance. "What?"
Lunette teased, leaning forward. "What has happened to you? You look as though you've been rejected by a lady."
The remark was meant gently.
But the silence that followed did not behave as such.
Serik did not answer at once.
Nor did his expression shift to dismiss it.
He simply regarded her for a brief moment, calm, unreadable, and that, more than anything, was answer enough.
Lunette's smile faltered, just slightly.
Ruhina's hand stilled against the table.
The quiet stretched.
"Brother, is it…" Seraphine leaned forward, voice sharpening, "lady Lethia?"
Serik lowered his gaze again.
He did not deny it.
Ruhina's hand slammed against the table, the silver rattling. "How many times," she hissed, her voice trembling with restrained fury, "must I forbid that name at this table? How many times must I tell you to keep your distance from that... that creature?"
Screeeeeeech.
Serik's knife dragged across the plate, a violent, jagged sound.
"Why will you not listen?" Ruhina demanded, standing so abruptly her chair nearly toppled.
Serik finally stood. His voice was a low, guttural rasp that chilled the wine in their glasses.
"And why should I?"
Ruhina blinked, stunned. "Because I am your mother. I know what is best..."
"Best?" Serik interrupted, a jagged laugh escaping him. "Since when has anything you've decided led to anything good?"
Ruhina flinched as if she was struck by something. Even Alaric's eyes narrowed.
"Serik," he said, closing his ledger, "that's enough."
"No," Serik said, looking at his mother with unfiltered resentment. "Every time I listen to you, I lose something I can never get back."
A sudden gust of wind swept through the canopy, fluttering the edges of Alaric's ledgers and sending a chill through the remaining diners. The sun was still high, but the warmth was gone.
Serik turned and walked away, his shadow stretching long and thin across the grass.
Ruhina stood motionless for a moment, her lips trembling.
Then she turned sharply and swept out of the garden in the opposite direction, her silk skirts hissing against the stone.
Lunette straightened, unease flickering across her features.
"I… perhaps I should speak with her. I did not intend to..."
"Let her be."
Alaric sighed.
Lunette hesitated… then slowly resumed her seat.
Seraphine looked at the empty seats, then at Alaric. Her lower lip wobbled. "Tell me," she whispered, her voice small, "do you think he actually hates us?"
Alaric went back to his papers.
"He doesn't hate us, Seraphine. He's just the only one who hasn't learned to lie to himself yet."