The feeling lingered for only a moment before fading, leaving the room in the same quiet stillness as before.
Sol did not move. His gaze remained lowered, and his posture unchanged, as though nothing had happened.
Across the hall, the Duchess continued forward. Each step she took was steady and measured, though just slow enough to suggest restraint rather than ease. Her composure remained intact, her expression calm, and her presence gentle enough to soften the room's weight without diminishing it.
A servant stepped forward and pulled her chair back. She lowered herself carefully, the motion smooth and controlled, her hands settling neatly in her lap.
Behind her, Luna followed without hesitation. Her movement reflected a quiet ease that did not fully fit the atmosphere of the estate. There was no visible tension in her posture, nor careful restraint in her steps, yet nothing about her felt careless.
As she reached her place, her hand lifted slightly to adjust the sleeve of her clothing. The motion was small, almost instinctive.
Sol's gaze shifted.
For a brief moment, something surfaced—a fragment of a memory, distant and unformed. He recalled a familiar figure standing by a window, speaking idly and adjusting her sleeve without thought.
The image dissolved before it could settle.
Sol remained still, though his fingers paused briefly against the table before settling again.
Luna took her seat.
Across from him, her gaze lifted, moving across the table before settling on him with quiet curiosity. For a moment, neither of them looked away. There was no clear recognition, but something lingered—a pause that stretched just slightly longer than it should have.
Her head tilted faintly, as though she had noticed something she could not yet define.
Then she smiled.
Light. Effortless. Unbothered.
Sol looked away.
The moment passed, and the hall fell quiet once more. Time stretched, unbroken, with the prepared table left untouched. Then, the doors opened again.
Three figures entered together. Eurien was at the front, reviewing a few documents as he walked. His pace was steady, and he briefly glanced at the papers before lifting his gaze toward the table. He carried the composed restraint expected of an heir, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the room.
Sancus followed closely behind him, his posture straight and movements careful, as if still guided by instruction. His gaze swept quickly across the hall—first toward Aion, then toward the Duchess—before settling briefly on Sol. It lingered there for a moment before he looked away.
Hebe entered last. Unlike the others, she didn't hold back her attention. Her gaze moved freely, landing almost immediately on Luna. A small, quiet brightness appeared in her expression, one she did not attempt to hide.
They moved toward their seats.
Eurien reached his place first, setting the documents aside before sitting. Sancus followed, his movements precise and almost practised. Hebe slipped into her seat beside Luna, leaning slightly toward her before remembering to straighten up.
"You're here," she said softly. Luna glanced at her, a smile appearing at the corner of her lips.
Hebe nodded once, then hesitated, as if recalling where she was. She folded her hands neatly, though her attention remained close to Luna.
Sancus noticed. His gaze lingered briefly between the two of them—quiet and observant—before returning to the front of the room. Eurien did not comment on the exchange. Instead, his gaze shifted once toward the Duchess, then to Aion, as if noting something unspoken, before settling again.
Aion did not look up.
"Now that everyone is present," he announced, his voice cutting cleanly through the room.
The shift was immediate. Servants moved at once, their steps controlled as they placed dishes and refreshed tea. The hall returned to its intended rhythm, the stillness giving way to quiet function.
Eurien reached for his cup first, unhurried. Sancus followed a moment later, his movements careful. Hebe paused just slightly before doing the same. Luna, however, did not move immediately. Instead, her gaze drifted, taking in the table, the arrangement, and the people seated around her.
Sol noticed this, but only briefly, before returning his attention to the cup in front of him.
"Your lessons resume after noon," Eurien said, directing his voice toward Sancus without looking at him.
Sancus nodded. "Yes."
"If there are any adjustments needed, inform me in advance."
"I understand."
The exchange ended there. Hebe shifted slightly, her focus already returning to Luna.
"You're still attending?" Luna asked quietly.
"Only the morning lessons," Hebe replied with a faint smile.
"That's still a lot," Luna noted.
Hebe smiled again. "I'll survive."
Luna studied her for a moment, something unreadable passing through her gaze before she leaned back.
Sol lifted his cup. The warmth had returned, and the room had settled. Everything moved as expected. Yet—
Something remained—subtle, unclear, but present.
The meal progressed in the same quiet rhythm, the sound of utensils faint against the stillness of the hall. No one spoke unless necessary, and even then, the words were brief, measured, and without excess. Sol remained composed, his attention lowered toward his plate, though his awareness did not waver.
Across from him, Luna moved differently. Not outwardly. Not enough for anyone else to notice. But—she was not the same. She ate slowly, not out of restraint, but because her attention drifted, returning and drifting again, as though she were observing more than participating.
Sol noticed this—in fragments. A pause where there shouldn't have been one. A shift in attention that did not follow the flow of the room. Small things. Insignificant. And yet—not.
To Aion's left, Eurien set his cup down.
"The council reports will be delivered before evening," he said.
Aion gave a faint nod and added, "Solan will attend as well."
Sancus listened, his gaze lowered slightly, focusing more on the act of listening than on the words themselves. Hebe, meanwhile, had already lost interest. Her attention lingered near Luna, though she said nothing, her earlier restraint still holding.
"You will be prepared," Eurien added, directing his voice toward Sol this time.
A brief pause followed.
There was no hesitation. Sol lifted his gaze slightly. Their eyes did not meet, but the meaning was clear.
"Understood."
The exchange ended. Across the table, Luna watched—not the conversation—but him. Her gaze lingered just long enough before shifting away, as though she had confirmed something she had not yet named.
Sol reached for his cup. The warmth had begun to fade. For a brief moment, his hand stilled, and a memory surfaced—faint, a voice—soft, familiar, insistent in a way that did not match the present.
"You always do that."
The words echoed, distant yet clear. Sol's fingers tightened slightly around the cup. Across from him, Luna paused, just for a fraction of a second.
Then—almost absently—she spoke.
"You still let it cool."
The words slipped out quietly, as though they were never meant to be said aloud. The room did not react. The conversation at the table continued, uninterrupted. But Sol did. His hand stopped completely. The warmth of the cup was forgotten.
Slowly, he lifted his gaze. Luna had already lowered hers, but not before—
that brief moment. That same stillness. That same pause. As though she had realised it too late. As though she had revealed something she should not have known.
Silence settled again—not across the room—but between them. Sol said nothing. He did not question it or react. But the conclusion was clear, unavoidable. Across the table, Luna remained still, her expression unchanged, her composure intact. And yet her fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the table, barely noticeable—unless one was looking.
But Sol was watching.
The meal came to an end soon after, the final movements of the servants marking its conclusion. Chairs shifted quietly, conversations—if they could be called that—ending as they had begun.
Nothing had changed. Everything had.
Sol rose from his seat. He did not look at her again. There was no need.