I was here once again. If it hadn't been for Orin, I would still have three days left of my usual cyclic routine. But now, like the first day of my caretaking duties, I stood at the same spot—just outside his door—with a full tray of breakfast treats in my trembling hands. I gulped. This time, I wasn't sure if I wanted to go in anymore… not that I had wanted to in the first place.
Earlier that morning, after I had gotten out of bed and put my hair up in my usual bun, I made my way to the kitchen. Going to the kitchen was the first thing I did every morning ever since I began living in the servants' quarters. I had expected to find Rael already there, seated and laughing with his mouth full of food like he usually did, surrounded by the other male servants. But to my surprise, I was met with an absence—and with Miriam, who informed me that Rael had gone into town again to care for his ill father.
I had immediately questioned her. Since when did Rael care about his father? The same father he had always spoken of with bitterness? The man whose cruelty had driven Rael to start working here in the first place? But I wasn't sure what Rael was truly feeling deep down. Miriam had told me his father had been diagnosed with the same illness that had taken his mother. And judging by the seriousness on Miriam's face, it must've been something grave. That's why I hoped—truly hoped—Rael got to town safely and returned soon with good news.
I had sat down at the table afterward, feeling a bit more at ease, especially now that my bruises were finally starting to fade. I was still a little sore, and my left eye had only just begun to open and close without sharp pain. I still looked worn and battered from Lord Caelvorn's beatings. Some of the bigger bruises remained visible, but at least they weren't as pronounced as they were on that dreadful first day. The other servants had stopped giving me those sympathetic looks and gentle shoulder pats whenever I walked past them. Honestly, that had become more annoying than comforting. I was glad they had stopped.
All I had for breakfast was a dry, small piece of bread and a glass of warm milk. To me, though, it was heaven. Even if it wasn't anything luxurious like what the lords ate, it filled my belly just enough to get through the morning.
The door flew open behind me, making me jump. I turned around quickly—only then remembering that Lisa was here today. At least she hadn't gone off like Rael. That was a small relief. Even better, that meant they weren't together. I still hadn't figured out what was happening between the two of them… and I wasn't even sure I wanted to know. For some reason, the thought made my stomach twist uncomfortably. What had Rael even meant when he'd said "in that way"? In what way?
Lisa had been acting distant, barely speaking to me. When she finally handed me the tray, she told me the same thing she always did. "You make sure you don't leave that room with untouched food. UNDERSTOOD?" Her words were already engraved into my skull by now.
On my way up the stairs, I had been especially careful not to take a wrong step. Falling now would have been the worst way to start my day. My arms were weak, but the rest of my body managed to control the swaying and kept me steady on my feet.
When I finally reached the top of the staircase and stood before the second floor, I reminded myself of where his room was—fifth door on the right. I gulped again. Last time, I hadn't knocked. I had just barged in, and maybe that was why he had misinterpreted me as an intruder sent to kill him for some bounty.
But if I knocked… would he even open the door?
My hands trembled with fear. I placed the tray on a nearby table and knocked softly.
Nothing.
I don't know what I was thinking—that he'd come to the door himself?
I knocked again, more firmly this time, then carefully turned the handle and pushed the door open slowly, flinching in case he lunged at me like before. The room was as dark as it had been the last time I'd seen it—no, darker. There was a depth to this darkness, a deeper shadow clinging to the corners of the walls. I couldn't see him. Not clearly. And before he could react and possibly attack again, I grabbed the tray and settled it quickly on a small desk.
Then I saw them—the letters.
The same letters I had glimpsed last time were now doubled, maybe tripled. Some had spilled to the cold stone floor.
"I'm Evaline. I work for this manor," I said quickly before he got the wrong idea.
This time, nothing lunged at me. No sudden movement. No growl. Just silence. It almost felt like I was the only human being in the room.
The air was cold—nothing like the warm morning outside. The heavy curtains remained shut, blocking any ray of sunlight. I lit a candle, holding it up toward the bed where I assumed Lord Caelvorn might be curled up.
Sure enough, I found him there. The large king-sized bed looked even larger with his figure lying still on it. His body was wrapped tightly in the expensive sheets, only the outline of his tall frame visible in the flickering candlelight. His broad shoulders curved down to his firm chest and narrow waist, and his long legs nearly reached the foot of the bed.
My shoulders finally relaxed. He wasn't being aggressive—not yet, at least.
I sat at the edge of the bed, careful not to make noise. His face was turned away from me. His dark, slightly tousled hair tempted me to reach out and run my fingers through it. I stayed still, instead watching the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest. I felt relieved… safe, for now.
This man—this figure lying silently before me—was the same one feared by an entire kingdom. Feared by his own blood. I imagined he was numb to whatever pain he carried. But then again… I'm always wrong.
The breakfast tray had almost been forgotten. I quietly got up and walked toward the desk to retrieve it. As I turned with the tray in my hands, I glanced again at the letters strewn across the floor.
"Lord Caelvorn, your breakfast is still warm. You should take a bite before it gets cold," I said softly.
And then—against my better judgment—I let my intrusive thoughts win. I reached down and gently pulled the blanket from his face.
He was deeply asleep. His blue eyes remained closed, his lips slightly parted. He looked… absolutely breathtaking. I blushed at the thought, ashamed. Still, I couldn't look away. I reached out, brushing my fingers across his cheek.
It was soft, delicate. His face held an agonizing kind of beauty, as though it had been carved by sorrow itself. From the outside, he looked like something out of a fairytale—a noble locked away behind a door, and worse, behind his own heart.
But I had to remember—this was the man who had laid his hands on me. Who had broken me.
I rubbed my knuckles, the same ones I had just run down his cheek.
How could I wake him?
My eyes drifted to the curtains. No assassin would open the curtains and expose themselves to light. If I did that, maybe he would realize I wasn't a threat. Just a normal maid.
I moved cautiously toward them, careful not to make a sound. But just before I could reach the heavy fabric, I heard movement. I froze.
I took a chance—and with one swift motion, I flung the curtains open.
The sunlight poured in. Behind me, I heard a groan.
I turned around instantly.
He was sitting upright now, staring straight at me. His blue eyes shimmered with the sunlight that filtered in, his dark hair messy and flowing around his neck. He blinked, eyes squinting against the brightness. Then he covered his face with his hands.
Right. I slapped myself mentally. Of course his eyes would be sensitive. He probably hadn't seen the sun in three whole years.
I shut the curtains again and lit another candle. The room glowed faintly now, soft shadows stretching from the corners.
Lord Caelvorn was staring at me again, his intense gaze piercing right through me.
I smiled awkwardly. "I brought you breakfast, my lord," I said, lowering my head. I had already broken so many rules when it came to him. The eleventh rule: never look directly into the lord's eyes. And the first time I met him, I had done exactly that.
I stepped closer to him. "Here. You should eat so you can improve your health."
He didn't look starved, but he certainly didn't look strong either—not like the stories I'd heard. They said he had once been muscular, powerful, like a warrior. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of what he once was—what he could still be.
"I know consuming too much food after not eating properly for years could upset your stomach," I added quickly, placing my hand over my heart. "But you can trust me, my lord. I'll make sure that doesn't happen."
Still, he said nothing.
I placed the tray gently on his lap. Braced myself. Shut my eyes, fully expecting him to throw the tray back in my face.
Then I peeked through one eye.
He was… eating.
I stared in disbelief, my mouth slightly agape.
He was taking small bites. Slowly. Carefully.
He was seriously eating.
My eyes widened.
I had done it again!