I had no idea why he was doing it, but I let out a smile of joy.
Did he think that last time I was trying to kill him, like other people had? If that's what he truly thought, then I'd done well to show him I meant no harm.
I sat beside him softly, trying not to frighten him. Though honestly, it was quite the opposite—he was the one who terrified me the most. I was nothing more than an insect to him, a bug that refused to leave.
Once I got back to the servants' kitchen, I would get bombarded with questions about what I'd done to make him eat. I laughed softly at the thought. The idea of the other servants finally asking how I succeeded, instead of how I got myself into trouble, was a strange sort of comfort.
He turned to look at me as I let out the laugh. I hoped he didn't misinterpret it—think I was mocking him.
"I'm not laughing at you, my Lord. Really," I said quickly. "I'm just glad I was able to make you eat." I smiled at him, only to receive a quiet "hm" in response.
Right. Maybe I also needed to focus on teaching him how to hold a proper conversation… though I wasn't sure how I could, when I could barely talk to people myself.
I rubbed my temples in exhaustion. I really was useless. I couldn't write, couldn't read, couldn't hold a proper conversation, and I didn't even understand my own feelings most of the time.
My eyes drifted to his long, messy hair.
"When was the last time you got a haircut, my Lord?" I asked.
He shrugged and continued eating small bites of chocolate-covered waffles.
"You like sweets?" I asked, and he nodded.
So he was only going to answer yes-or-no questions, it seemed.
"How old are you, my Lord?"
He looked at me, opened his mouth… and only said, "Hm."
I laughed. "Hm is not an answer, but if I had to guess… you look young. Twenty? Nineteen? Or perhaps… twenty-three?"
At that, he nodded.
"Twenty-three! Really?" I repeated, surprised. He gave me a blank look and went back to eating.
"That's quite young, actually," I said, not even sure why I reacted that way.
"You should try this," I said, pointing to a bowl of yogurt and granola—a treat I only got once every few months. He nodded again.
"You're eating more," I said with a louder laugh and handed him a spoon. He reached for it, and our fingers touched.
He recoiled sharply.
Was he still hesitant to touch me?
"Sorry—I didn't mean to touch you," I said softly, shifting a little to give him space. I didn't want him to worry that I was trying anything.
When he finally finished, he had certainly eaten more than he ever had. I noticed a bit of granola stuck at the corner of his mouth, and without thinking, I gently wiped it away with my thumb.
He blushed—and then, to my shock, he nuzzled against my hand.
I gasped at the contact, my eyes widening. I quickly looked away.
How could he be this adorable?
"I wasn't the one who tried to touch you—you did it first," I mumbled, afraid he'd flinch again.
I took the tray from his hands. A lot of food remained, but still—he had eaten. And I hadn't received a single punch. I let out a long breath of relief.
He shifted away from me.
"Thank you, Lord Caelvorn. Thanks to you, I don't expect a punishment any time soon—"
I was cut off by a sudden knock.
I froze. My heart lurched.
I stood and walked to the door, unsure who it could be. As I opened it, Orin stood on the other side—his chest heaving, his face pale as snow, eyes wide and frantic.
"Evaline," he breathed, grabbing my arm tightly. "Take Lord Caelvorn with you. Hide. There are more than sixteen armed men inside the manor. They've breached the halls. GO!"
The words didn't make sense—not right away.
More than sixteen?
Armed?
My mouth opened, but nothing came out. My eyes flicked behind him. Shadows moved. I heard it then—heavy boots pounding against the marble, the sharp clang of steel against stone—and then—
Screams.
Not distant.
Close.
The blood drained from my face. A cold sweat broke across my skin.
This wasn't a threat. This wasn't something we could wait out.
This was happening now.
I turned to Lord Caelvorn. He was already staring at me. And in his ice-blue eyes, I saw something I never expected:
Fear.
Real, human fear.
"Move," I whispered. "Now."
We didn't have time.
Not a second.
The manor was under siege.
And they were coming for us.
No,they were coming for him.