Days had passed before Soren finally returned to the manor. After dealing with the monsters, he'd spent several more days searching for the missing animals, but they were nowhere to be found. Eventually, he gave up, figuring that if they turned up, the knights could handle it.
The moment he stepped through the gates, he was greeted warmly by Jeffrey and the other servants.
It felt good to be home.
What surprised him, though, was that the manor was still in one piece, and the servants looked lively. He had half-expected Alya's bratty behavior to drive them all to the edge.
As he made himself comfortable in the drawing room, Soren turned to Jeffrey.
"Tell me, Jeffrey, how is our esteemed guest doing?"
Jeffrey stiffened slightly. The question caught him off guard.
"I… I should think she's doing fine," he said carefully.
"You think?" Soren asked, sensing something was off.
"She hasn't made any demands, Your Grace," Jeffrey said as he handed Soren a cup of tea.
Soren raised an eyebrow and placed the cup on the table.
"What do you mean, no demands? Not even dietary? She claimed she didn't eat meat on the way here."
"None, Your Grace. Not a single request."
"Really…" Soren muttered, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Was she lying about not eating meat?
He mulled it over for a moment before making up his mind.
"Fine. Inform her I'll be dining with her this evening. And tell the chef to prepare whatever she's been eating."
Jeffrey froze mid-nod, unsure he had heard correctly.
"You wish to dine with her, Your Grace?"
"Yes. Why? Is there a problem? Does she usually eat in her room?"
"Truthfully… we've had no interaction with her whatsoever. So I wouldn't know."
Soren stared at him. "What do you mean you've had no interaction? I gave strict instructions, she was to be treated as an honored guest. You did follow those orders, didn't you?"
Jeffrey looked defensive. "With all due respect, she's a criminal. A fake saintess. Treating her like royalty would be… blasphemous."
Soren exhaled sharply and rubbed his face. "Gods above…"
He started pacing.
Jeffrey, watching him grow increasingly distressed, began to realize his mistake. Maybe he had misunderstood Soren's intentions.
"What exactly did you do, Jeffrey?" Soren demanded, stopping mid-pace.
Jeffrey began to recount everything. It wasn't much; he had done almost nothing for Alya. No visits, no attention, no proper care.
Each word landed like a blow.
"We're doomed," Soren muttered, the weight of it sinking in.
He had been planning to ask Alya for her help. But now? After treating her like a prisoner?
It would take a miracle to win her over.
Without another word, Soren stormed out of the drawing room, heading straight for the annex. Jeffrey trailed behind, guilt starting to creep in.
But as Soren neared the annex, he stopped.
Two massive direwolves stood at the entrance, growling low in their throats.
The annex door creaked open. A massive polar bear lumbered out first, followed by an old woman and a young man holding a wooden bucket.
Soren sighed. So that's where the missing animals went.
The old woman, clearly startled by their presence, tightened her grip on the bear's thick fur.
"Who are you?" she asked sharply, eyeing them.
Jeffrey took a step forward, looking offended, but the young man beat him to it.
"He's the Duke," he said simply.
The woman's eyes widened. She gave a shaky curtsy. "I greet the great Duke of the North."
The young man behind her bowed stiffly.
"Is Alya inside?" Soren asked, still keeping his eyes on the large, growling animals.
"Yes. She's in the drawing room," the old woman answered. "I'll take the beasts out for feeding."
She bowed again, then turned. The direwolves growled at Soren one last time before following her. The young man gave another awkward bow and hurried after them.
Soren watched him leave, wondering who he was, but let it go. There were more important things to deal with.
He stepped into the annex.
The inside was warm and carried the faint scent of fruit. He made his way to the drawing room and found Alya lounging on the couch, lazily eating grapes. She looked nothing like the regal woman he had brought here.
Gone were the white robes and neat braids. Instead, she wore plain, rough clothing, something a peasant girl might wear. Her long hair hung loose and tangled. Yet somehow, she still looked beautiful, if not wild.
Soren's gaze drifted to the bowl of grapes. He glanced at Jeffrey, whose confusion mirrored his own. Where did she get them? He hadn't given her any supplies. And the fruit looked fresh—too fresh.
Alya looked up at them and sighed. "Oh. You're late. I expected you days ago."
"I heard you were having trouble," Soren said, keeping his voice steady. "I'm glad to see that's not the case."
She rolled her eyes and popped another grape into her mouth. "Stop circling me like a hawk. Just say what you want."
Jeffrey stiffened beside him, clearly offended by the way she spoke.
"I'm making a guardian stone, but I—"
"No," she interrupted flatly, tossing another grape into her mouth.
Jeffrey's eye twitched. Soren stayed calm.
"I can give you anything you want," he said quietly.
Alya gave a bitter laugh. "Gods, I'm so tired of hearing that. 'I'll give you everything I have,' 'I'll do whatever it takes,' 'Name your price.'" Her voice deepened mockingly as she quoted. "Has it ever occurred to you that I don't want anything?"
Soren stepped closer. "Then maybe you'd like better clothes."
"I like these just fine," Alya said with a shrug.
"Jewellery, then?" Soren offered.
Alya scoffed. "And wear it where? To bed? Or maybe I could show it off to Mattress."
"…What?" Soren blinked.
"Oh right, you don't know." Alya grinned. "That's the name of the bear. Mattress—because he's soft."
Soren sighed and shook his head. He was trying, but the conversation wasn't going anywhere. Then suddenly, an idea struck him, but before he could speak, Alya beat him to it.
"If you want to take the animals away, go ahead," she said lazily. "I have no problem with it."
Soren sank into the nearest chair, feeling oddly defeated.
"Come on," he tried again. "There's got to be something that bothers you."
Alya sat up, thoughtful. "Hmm, let's see… why would I help someone who hurt my nanny, made me lose my position, and almost got me killed?"
"She's alive because of the duke!" Jeffrey snapped. "He saved your life!"
"Did he now?" Alya replied, calmly eating another grape.
"How dare you disrespect the duke!" Jeffrey barked, stepping forward.
But Soren moved first, standing between them before things could escalate.
That's when Alya changed.
She suddenly shifted into a sitting position, her expression downcast, eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Soren was confused... until her nanny came rushing in from the hallway.
"Nanny," Alya whispered as if she'd been frightened, "I didn't disrespect him. Why are they being mean to me?"
The older woman instantly wrapped her arms around Alya, glaring at the two men.
"With all due respect," the nanny said firmly, shielding Alya behind her, "I think it's time for you both to leave."
Soren blinked, taken aback. Did the nanny not realize he owned the entire manor? Or worse—did she truly not know Alya's true nature?
Alya peeked out from behind her nanny's shoulder and shot the men a slow, wicked smile.
"You lying—!" Jeffrey snapped, stepping forward again.
"Enough, Jeffrey!" Soren said sharply, holding out a hand to stop him. He turned to the older woman and bowed slightly. "Apologies, ma'am. We'll take our leave."
With that, he dragged Jeffrey out of the annex.
Back at the main estate, Jeffrey stormed into the drawing room, still fuming.
"She's vile! How could she—!"
"Enough, Jeffrey!" Soren suddenly snapped, slamming his hand against the nearest table.
Jeffrey stopped, startled. "M-My lord?"
Soren's voice was low and cold. "I asked you to do one thing, just one thing. Trust me."
He looked directly at Jeffrey. "I asked for your trust as your lord. If you can't give me that… then why are you even working for me?"
Jeffrey stood there, speechless.