The routine started quietly.
Unexpectedly.
And yet… it became something Elowen began to look forward to.
"Just one," she said, holding up a finger.
The Duke didn't respond.
He simply watched.
Which somehow made it worse.
Elowen hesitated for only a second before reaching for another pastry.
"…Okay, maybe two."
The garden table was once again filled with neatly arranged cakes, soft pastries, and sweet fruits. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting gentle shadows across the table where Elowen now sat—far more comfortable than she had been days ago.
At first, she had resisted.
Now?
"…This one is my favorite," she declared, holding up a small cream-filled pastry.
The Duke glanced at it briefly. "You said that yesterday."
"…That was yesterday."
A pause.
"…This is today's favorite."
A faint, almost imperceptible exhale left him—something close to amusement.
Elowen smiled to herself, pleased.
Her lessons were still exhausting. Still boring. Still something she complained about endlessly.
But this—
This part of her day?
She liked it.
Even if she wouldn't say it out loud.
Across the estate—
"Did you hear? His Grace has been taking tea in the garden every afternoon."
"And with the young miss too."
"Cakes and pastries every day…"
The maids' voices were hushed, but not quiet enough.
Behind the corridor wall, someone stood still.
Listening.
Lavinia.
Her fingers tightened slightly around the fabric of her dress.
"…Every day?" she repeated softly.
The maids continued, unaware.
"They say he even ordered the kitchen to prepare new desserts just for her."
"Really? His Grace never—"
"That child must be quite special…"
Silence.
A shadow crossed Lavinia's face.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
"…Special," she echoed under her breath.
Something flickered in her eyes—sharp, fleeting.
Then—
Her teeth clenched slightly.
"…I must go."
The words slipped out, quiet and controlled, but laced with something deeper.
Something darker.
Without another sound, she turned—
And walked away.
Meanwhile—
"Elowen."
She looked up.
Noel stood nearby, as usual—silent, composed, like he had always been there.
"…Noel!"
She brightened slightly.
"Come sit!" she gestured enthusiastically.
He didn't.
Instead, he remained standing.
"I won't stay long."
"…You never do," she muttered.
A pause.
Then—
She tilted her head.
"…Hey, Noel."
"What is it?"
"…What's our second brother like?"
For a moment, Noel didn't respond.
Then—
"El ias."
He spoke the name calmly.
"He studies alchemy at the academy."
Elowen's eyes lit up slightly.
"Alchemy?"
"…Mixing potions? Explosions? Weird liquids?" she asked, leaning forward with interest.
"…Yes."
Her eyes sparkled.
"That sounds fun!"
"It is not."
Her excitement deflated slightly.
"…Oh."
Noel continued, unfazed.
"He is calm. Logical. Efficient."
"…Boring?"
"…No."
A pause.
"He is a genius."
Elowen blinked.
"…Oh."
That changed things.
"…So he's smart-smart."
"…Yes."
She leaned back slightly, thinking.
"…Is he scary?"
Noel's gaze shifted slightly, as if considering.
"…No."
A small pause.
"…But he sees through people easily."
Elowen froze.
"…Oh."
Her hand slowly lowered her pastry.
"That kind of scary."
Noel didn't deny it.
Elowen frowned slightly.
"…Do you think he'll like me?"
The question came out quieter than she intended.
For a moment—
Noel looked at her.
Not past her.
At her.
"…I don't know."
Honest.
As always.
Elowen sighed, leaning back.
"…That's not reassuring at all."
A small silence settled between them.
Then—
"…He values results."
Elowen blinked.
"…Huh?"
"If you are useful, he will acknowledge you."
She stared at him.
"…That sounds worse."
Noel said nothing.
Which somehow made it feel true.
Elowen groaned, covering her face briefly.
"I'm surrounded by difficult people…"
"…You are one as well."
Her head snapped up.
"I am not!"
"…You are."
"…Am not!"
Noel turned slightly.
"…Rest well."
"…Hey! Don't just leave after insulting me!"
But he was already walking away.
As usual.
Elowen huffed, crossing her arms—
Then slowly reached for another pastry.
"…At least the food likes me."
And somewhere within the estate—
Plans were already beginning to form.
Quietly.
Carefully.
As sweetness lingered in one corner—
Something far more bitter began to grow in another.