Lucrecia's steps tried to be light and discreet as she moved away from the library. She climbed the stairs with a restless heart, still feeling the echo of her own emotions stirring in her chest. She was not used to feeling so agitated, and that state of mind meant that when she encountered Cain's personal maid in the hallway, her behavior was more impulsive than she would have considered appropriate.
Yara carried the silver tray with the dinner intended for her master. She walked with the silent efficiency of someone accustomed to fulfilling her task without distractions. She had no time to worry about a young lady who did not belong directly to the family she served.
Even so, Lucrecia stopped in front of her and stared at her for a moment before speaking.
—I will take it.
Without giving her a chance to react, the stern-faced young woman approached and snatched the tray from her hands with a decisive movement. Then she stepped forward, placing herself ahead of her and nullifying any possible objection.
Yara stood still. She had no chance to protest. She could only watch with respect as the delicate young lady moved down the hallway with the tray in her hands, heading without hesitation toward her master's room.
Cain did not expect to receive visitors that night. And he much less imagined finding Lucrecia Reines performing a task suited for the staff. That was difficult to imagine... and even harder to understand.
—You don't look very well —Lucrecia commented as she entered the room, closing the door behind her—. Have you been resting properly?
The count's son looked pale and tired. There was a slight shadow under his eyes that revealed without difficulty that he was going through a difficult time. Still, he received her with his usual serenity. He took the tray from her hands and placed it on the table, allowing her to enter with a slight nod.
—I apologize for the inconvenience —he said in a calm voice—. I will return to classes soon.
Lucrecia shook her head gently as she followed him to the table.
—Even the instructors know that someone like you doesn't need classes.
As she spoke, she began to arrange the dishes carefully, as if that domestic task were completely natural to her.
—Let me help you.
Cain observed her movements with slight confusion. It was difficult for him to recognize the proud daughter of the viscounts in that almost subservient attitude.
It was then that something unexpected happened.
One of the plates tilted slightly as Lucrecia spoke, and a small amount of sauce ended up spilling onto the white sleeve of her dress. The stain spread slowly over the fine fabric.
—Lucrecia...
Cain frowned upon noticing it. Cleaning it would be useless; the fabric was too delicate to withstand such an accident. However, he seemed to be the only one worried about the dress.
Lucrecia didn't even look at the stain. Her thoughts were already beginning to escape her lips before she could stop them.
—It isn't proper to talk about other people's affairs... is it?
As she said it, she intertwined her fingers on the table with evident nervousness. She was not used to feeling this restless. She had come there with a fairly simple intention: to ask for advice. Nothing more.
She took a small breath before continuing.
—There is something that has surprised me recently.
Cain observed her attentively. Among the five candidates, he was the eldest. His experience and knowledge rivaled even those of Marquise Lathasha, and for that reason, Lucrecia had thought that perhaps his perspective could help her organize her own thoughts.
She took a deep breath before finally saying it.
—Delilah and Raguel... somehow, they have become very close.
Cain's expression did not change. But those words caused a sharp movement inside him. Hearing Delilah's name made something heavy settle immediately in his chest. For an instant, his face darkened just barely, though it was a change so brief it could have gone unnoticed.
The silence that followed became uncomfortable. Lucrecia ended up looking down and continued speaking. She had been observing Raguel in secret for several days. Admitting it out loud was embarrassing, but she didn't want Cain to misinterpret her intentions.
—Is it right to have secret meetings in the library? —she finally asked, with some discomfort—. Why does Raguel like girls like Delilah?
That assumption finally provoked a visible reaction.
The last few days had been particularly difficult for Cain. The lack of sleep caused a persistent headache, and his mood had become gloomier than usual. Lucrecia's words dragged him toward an unexpected thought.
—If that is truly the case... —he finally murmured, leaning his elbow on the table— frankly, I don't know what to say.
Lucrecia looked down immediately.
—I'm sorry. I said something absurd.
Cain shook his head gently, though his attention was no longer fully on the conversation. His eyes drifted toward the door of the room. Suddenly, staying there began to feel uncomfortable.
Lucrecia noticed it too.
—I should leave now —she said softly—. You really look tired.
Cain let out a long sigh as he ran a hand across his forehead. A strange sensation was beginning to dominate him.
—Raguel has a habit of provoking you —he said finally—. I'm sure you know that.
Those words were not exactly consoling. Lucrecia frowned slightly, unable to understand why she cared so much about that arrogant demon... or about that girl. Still, for some reason, Cain's words managed to calm her a little.
—Yara —he called in a calm voice—. Escort the lady to her room.
The maid was already waiting in the hallway. She had noticed the stain on Lucrecia's dress from the first moment and approached quickly.
Lucrecia sighed with an awkward gesture before standing up.
—He is so predictable... —she murmured, almost to herself—. I'm sorry, Cain. Don't pay attention to what I said.
The clock already marked midnight when she finally said goodbye.
When the two women disappeared down the hallway, Cain remained motionless for a few seconds. A feeling of persistent disgust began to grow inside him, silent and uncomfortable. Finally, he got up from the table and walked toward the stairs.
The library door was open.
When he crossed the hall, Delilah did not expect to find anyone at that hour of the night. Much less him. Her heart beat hard as soon as she saw him appear. It felt as if an eternity had passed since the last time those distant eyes had stopped in front of her.
Cain stopped at the library entrance, observing the book Delilah held in her hands.
—It is a bit late to be reading those kinds of books —he commented in a calm voice.
Delilah looked up.
—I heard you were ill —she responded—. Do you feel better?
Cain hesitated a moment before answering.
—I don't know.
He tried to sound natural as he walked toward the sofa and sat beside her. Then he let his body drop against the backrest with evident exhaustion.
—Is there something you like about that book? —he asked.
It was too late to talk about books. Delilah had taken it at random from the shelves and was only pretending to read to pass the time. Still, she looked down at the open pages in front of her.
The letters seemed blurred before her eyes. Delilah tried to concentrate first on one line and then another, patiently following the words printed on the page, but the more she tried, the harder her heart began to beat inside her chest, as if something invisible were interrupting her concentration.
Then something unexpected happened.
A soft brush against her cheek made her stop immediately. Cain's silky black hair had fallen over her face, sliding lightly across her skin. Delilah blinked in bewilderment as she looked up at him. Apparently... he had fallen asleep.
For a moment, she thought maybe he was faking. She observed him attentively, trying to discover some gesture that would reveal a joke, but she found none. He was too close. So much so that breathing normally became slightly difficult.
The sofa was wide enough. It wouldn't be a problem if he slept there for a moment.
But Cain did not wake up. Not even when Delilah adjusted herself carefully, moving barely so as not to disturb him. Little by little, without either of them really noticing, the weight of his body ended up leaning against hers, forcing her to remain motionless.
Her heart fluttered again.
For a long while, she looked at the clock resting on the room's wall. The minutes advanced with an almost hypnotic slowness, while the silence of the place enveloped everything around them.
Finally, exhaustion began to reach her too.
Some nights were cold. Others, warm. Sometimes the rain fell hard on the roofs, hitting the windows insistently. Other times the wind blew violently among the trees, filling the house with restless whispers.
That night, on the other hand, was peaceful. Warm. Silent.
And in the middle of that deep calm, no noise was able to wake them.
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