The Kaelith mansion was quiet after dusk. Too quiet.
Saphine had long since disappeared into her private chambers, humming to herself as she soaked in the bath, blissfully unaware of the storm of suspicion that still lingered downstairs.
Eris, meanwhile, sat in the grand dining hall, a book open on the polished mahogany table. The single maid moved silently in the background, her presence sharp and deliberate.
He could feel her eyes on him. Always watching.
When she finally approached, it wasn't with open hostility. Instead, she set down a tray in front of him — a silver dish covered by a lid.
"For you, Sir Eris," she said in her usual polite tone.
Eris glanced up, one brow slightly raised. He hadn't asked for food. Lifting the lid revealed a steaming bowl of stew, the scent thick with herbs and… something else.
The maid's eyes gleamed faintly. "Do forgive me. I've prepared Lady Saphine's meals since she was a child. Anyone who eats under this roof eats what I prepare. If you're to protect her, you must get used to it."
Eris looked at her for a moment longer, then picked up the spoon. He didn't miss the subtle flicker in her gaze — she was waiting.
The stew was bitter. Purposefully so.
Eris swallowed calmly, even allowing himself the faintest sigh of satisfaction. "Strong," he said, setting the spoon down. "It'll keep me awake during night watch. You have my thanks."
The maid's eyes narrowed, just slightly. Strike one: failed.
The next morning, Saphine chattered happily as she prepared to show Eris the gardens. While she pulled on her gloves, the maid appeared again, smiling sweetly as she handed Eris a set of heavy bags.
"You don't mind carrying these, do you?" she asked. "Lady Saphine likes to walk freely without burdens."
Eris accepted the bags without complaint. They were far too heavy for their size — stones, most likely, hidden at the bottom. A subtle test of strength.
He carried them as though they were empty.
"Thank you," the maid said, but her tone was tighter this time.
Saphine, oblivious, skipped ahead to point out the fountain in the courtyard.
That evening, another trial came.
Saphine had retired early, exhausted from excitement, leaving Eris in the mansion's library. The maid entered with a tray of tea and set two cups down on the table.
She poured, stirred, then slid one cup toward him.
He didn't touch it. Not at first. Instead, he met her gaze directly. "Poison is inefficient," he said lightly. "Too many variables. If you're going to test me, you'll need something cleverer than this."
Her eyes widened faintly before narrowing again. "And if it were real?"
Eris smiled thinly. "Then I'd already have switched the cups."
Her breath caught as she glanced down — and realized he had. The untouched cup in front of him was hers.
For a long moment, the maid said nothing. Then, slowly, she exhaled and gave a small, reluctant smile.
"…Very well. Perhaps you are worth the Lady's trust after all."
From upstairs, Saphine's voice carried faintly, calling for more towels.
The maid turned, her sharpness softening again. "Do not think I will stop watching," she warned in a quieter tone, almost maternal. "Lady Saphine is precious. More than you know."
Eris leaned back in his chair, unreadable as ever. "Good. Keep watching. She needs it."
For the first time, the maid looked almost… surprised.
But when Saphine came bounding down the stairs a moment later, cheerful and bright, she saw none of it — only her shadow calmly sipping tea beside her ever-loyal maid.