When they finally returned to Mrs. Joana's humble home, the light outside had already softened into the golden hue of dusk. Within the small house, the hearth crackled warmly as Joana began preparing supper, letting Elira and Bea settle down and talk in peace.
Elira guided Bea gently toward the wooden dining table, her tone tender. "Sit here, Bea," she said softly while pouring fresh orange juice into a clay cup.
"Here, drink this."
"T-thank you… I feel so shy, truly. Mrs. Joana and you have both been too kind to me," Bea murmured, her voice shy and small, her eyes darting away in embarrassment.
"Don't be shy, my dear," Mrs. Joana said warmly from the kitchen, smiling as she chopped onions and sliced fresh vegetables. The scent of herbs already filled the room. She was preparing Herb-Roasted Chicken with Root Vegetables, and for dessert, Honey-Glazed Berries — a simple yet comforting meal. Across from her, Elira and Bea had already begun their light-hearted conversation.
"So, Bea," Elira asked curiously, sipping from her cup, "where do you live now?"
"I'm staying with my aunt at the moment," Bea replied with a small smile.
"Oh, that's good to hear." Elira nodded with a gentle grin, her tone calm and kind. They both took small sips of juice, the warmth of the room easing the air between them.
Yet Bea's fingers curled in her lap as guilt tugged at her heart — she never had the chance to properly say goodbye to Elira that night at Mr. Morgan's tavern.
"Ahm… Elira?" she said shyly.
"Yes? Is something the matter?" Elira looked up with her soft, usual smile.
"I'm sorry," Bea began, her voice faint. "I never got to say goodbye properly — not after what you did for those girls."
Elira's lips curved into a tender smile. "Don't worry, Bea. Truly, it's all right. I'm just happy we met again today."
For a moment, Bea was caught by surprise — the warmth in Elira's smile was so genuine, so disarming, that her own lips lifted in return.
"May I ask," Elira went on, "what keeps you busy these days, Elira? I mean… what do you do for a living?"
Elira tilted her head slightly. "Well, my aunt doesn't have much to spare," Bea said, scratching her head, "so I tried applying for work at the Household Roll as a maidservant."
Elira blinked, surprised. "Oh? Truly? Do they take those without experience?"
"Yes," Bea nodded, smiling faintly. "Would you not be interested as well?"
Her question made Elira pause — a thought flickering behind her eyes. She wondered if she should join Bea in applying for service under a noble house. But then, what of Mrs. Joana? If she were to leave, who would help her here? Work as a maid was not easy — long hours, little rest, and rarely a moment of freedom. And though Elira loved staying in Joana's home, she feared overstaying her welcome, or being a burden to Joana, her husband, or even Sylas.
Her fingers tightened against her skirt as her thoughts grew heavier.
Noticing the silence, Mrs. Joana turned from the hearth, her voice bright and kind. "Dinner is served," she announced cheerfully.
The aroma of roasted herbs filled the room.
"Oh, Mrs. Joana, that smells so delicious!" Bea exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with delight, her mouth nearly watering at the sight.
"I'll fetch the plates," Elira offered quickly, standing up to gather them from the rack. She returned moments later, setting them before Bea and Mrs. Joana with quiet grace.
As they began to eat, Bea turned to Elira again. "So, Elira — will you join me or not?" she asked eagerly.
Elira hesitated, lowering her gaze. "I… truly wish to, but…" Her voice trailed off as her eyes lifted toward Mrs. Joana, who was already smiling back at her with such motherly warmth that it silenced her doubts.
"Elira, my girl," Joana said softly, reaching out and placing her hand gently over Elira's back. "If working as a maidservant makes you happy, then go for it."
Her words carried such kindness that Elira's eyes widened. Joana had always supported her — always.
"But… you'll be alone here, Mrs. Joana," Elira murmured, her cheeks glowing faintly. "I don't wish to take advantage of your kindness."
"No, my dear," Joana said, smiling as her voice deepened with warmth. "If your heart yearns to see new things, then go ahead. I shall support you — always."
For a moment, Elira could say nothing. Her heart swelled with gratitude.
"So," Bea interrupted gently with a grin, "you'll join me, won't you?"
"Yes," Elira said finally, a bright smile breaking across her face. "I will."
Joana chuckled softly and nudged her teasingly at the side. "Just don't forget to visit me, all right?" she said with a playful wink.
"Yes, Mrs. Joana," Elira laughed.
Their laughter filled the room — warm, easy, and real. Outside, the night had already fallen into gentle silence, yet inside the little home, the air was alive with joy. The clinking of plates, soft laughter, and Joana's gentle voice wove together a harmony of comfort — a family of hearts bound not by blood, but by kindness and care.
The house of Mrs. Joana was filled with quiet joy that night. By the hour when the world outside had surrendered to moonlight, Silvia, the eldest daughter, sat alone at her office desk in the mansion. Having just tended to the last of the preparations in the infirmary hall — ensuring her son was settled with his grandmother and readying for any possible war — she now faced a mountain of papers to file. She and Lucien, appointed as war medics, had meticulously recorded every experiment with herbs and medicines, and tonight it all fell to her to organize.
"What on earth is this… endless," Silvia muttered, massaging her temples as she tried to sort the sheets. Hours of copying and arranging leaves, notes, and sketches had left her weary. Once she had finished, she leaned back in her chair, staring at the dark ceiling, lit only by a few flickering candles. The moonlight poured through the window, silver and serene, and the soft chirp of crickets was the only sound. She closed her eyes and drew a long, deep breath.
She recalled her youth, the day she first met Lucien at the orphanage, both children of the same tender age, growing from friends to lovers. Lucien, her mother's foster son and one of her mother's most gifted disciples in the art of herbs and medicine, had become her partner in life and in work.
Her peace, however, was gently disturbed by the slow opening of the office door. Yet she kept her eyes closed, knowing exactly who had entered.
A familiar figure approached silently, and then a gentle warmth brushed her cheek, tender and familiar. Her eyes fluttered shut. A man's hand rose with deliberate care, cupping her face softly. His index finger, bent just so, traced the gentle curve of her skin, the back brushing lightly, testing the warmth beneath. Though no words were spoken, the gesture spoke volumes — of care, protection, and quiet, unspoken affection.
When Silvia opened her eyes, she found Lucien standing beside her, a silent smile on his lips. Night attire clung lightly to him, and she, dressed in a simple white gown, could feel the comforting presence of her husband.
Silvia signed: "Is he already asleep?"
Lucien smiled, returning the gesture: "Yes… our son sleeps peacefully. Though he gave me quite the trouble before, asking when we would return to mother's house." He closed his eyes in mock exasperation, mimicking Luke's stubborn insistence.
Silvia laughed softly and signed: "I'm sorry, my love… I just needed to finish this."
Lucien's brow creased in silent worry. "Not done yet? You must rest. Let me handle it tomorrow."
The tender concern in his expression made her heart flutter. Lucien leaned closer, offering a playful charm in his gestures, coaxing her toward rest.
Silvia signed, her expression a mix of resignation and mischief: "Alright… I'll sleep, but on one condition." A sly grin curved her lips.
Lucien raised an eyebrow, curious.
Silvia shifted into a seductive, commanding pose, her eyes sparkling with playful intent. She signed: "Carry me."
Lucien blinked, surprised by her sudden childish audacity, yet a smile tugged at his lips. Without a word, he gently lifted her from her chair.
"Wait! What—!?" Silvia exclaimed in disbelief, her voice a mixture of shock and delight. She had never imagined Lucien could lift her with such ease. Yet he held her firmly, smiling down at her with quiet affection.
"Idiot," she murmured, a soft blush creeping over her cheeks. But beneath the teasing words, her body betrayed her—her heart fluttered, her breath catching as a warm, familiar peace spread through her at the feel of his strong arms around her. Lucien responded with a faint, fond smile, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. Silvia leaned into his chest, letting herself be held completely, the familiar rhythm of his heartbeat grounding her, soothing the lingering tension of the day. In that embrace, she felt a quiet war of emotions—love, relief, longing—all colliding, and yet, strangely, everything felt perfectly, beautifully in place.
Together, they made their way to their chamber, the night embracing them with quiet intimacy, a sanctuary of love and trust, shared in silence and tender gestures.
****
"We will deliver a summoning token to the estate where you are to serve… wait three days from now. But if no one arrives at your home within that time, I fear it will mean your failure," the registrar of servants announced. With that, Bea and Elira once again bowed politely before the Household Roll and quietly withdrew.
The sun shone brightly overhead, casting a warm glow across the city streets. The two girls, having finished their errand, decided to stroll through the bustling park nearby, drawn by the cheerful atmosphere and the crowds of townsfolk going about their day. Children ran laughing between the flowerbeds, merchants called out from their stalls, and the air was filled with the mingling scents of fresh bread, flowers, and sunlight.
"Elira, would you like some ice cream?" Bea asked, her voice bright and joyful, offering a cone to her friend.
Elira's lips curved into a small smile as she accepted it. "Thank you," she murmured, and began to savour the sweet, cold treat, licking carefully at its creamy edges. Once finished, they found a bench near a charming miniature waterfall, its gentle splashing providing a soft, soothing soundtrack to the day.
Elira's hair was neatly tied in a simple bun, a few loose strands brushing the nape of her neck. She wore a white off-shoulder blouse with flowing sleeves, layered beneath a laced burgundy bodice, paired with a long white skirt and a burgundy overskirt panel that swayed gracefully as she moved. Bea, in contrast, wore a long, peasant-style dress with a brown bodice, a black laced vest, and a white apron draped over her brown skirt. Her straight black hair fell loosely down her back. Together, they sat in companionable silence, enjoying their ice cream and the gentle warmth of the sun.
"The sun is so bright today…" Bea said, shading her eyes slightly with a hand.
"Hmm… yes," Elira replied softly, closing her eyes for a moment. "And the ice cream… it's so delicious." Her words carried a quiet contentment, a rare ease that made her smile all the more enchanting.
As they enjoyed the moment, breathing in the crisp, fresh air of the park, far across the city, Cassian was travelling home in his carriage from a noble house after concluding a minor transaction. He sat with his arms loosely crossed, his expression bored and distant as the carriage rattled along the cobbled streets.
Cassian was dressed in a striking deep blue military-style jacket with white lapels and gold buttons, the fabric detailed with fine silver embroidery that glimmered faintly in the afternoon light. A decorative emblem rested proudly on his chest, marking his noble status. His black trousers were neatly tailored, secured with a belt featuring a polished gold buckle — a subtle contrast to his otherwise cool and composed appearance.
Across from him, Devito sat in absolute silence, his posture straight and disciplined. He simply observed the passing scenery, offering no comment, his calm presence a stark contrast to Cassian's growing restlessness.
As the carriage drew closer to the heart of the capital, Cassian glanced out of the window, and his gaze froze. His eyes widened, and his chest lifted slightly as if relieved air had escaped him. There, on a bench in the park, sat Elira, her delicate features soft with happiness as she laughed lightly with another girl over their each ice cream.
Cassian watched her intently, committing the gentle curve of her smile to memory, the subtle movement of her hands as she held the cone, the sunlight catching in her hair. For a fleeting moment, he felt his heart lift, warmed by the sight of her contentment. Yet as the carriage continued along its route, moving out of sight, he straightened, drawing a faint, contemplative smile across his face.
"I'm glad she's well," he murmured under his breath, the words heavy with both relief and something more tender, unspoken. Seeing her happy, so unburdened, was a gift he did not take lightly. The carriage continued its steady journey toward the royal mansion, but Cassian's thoughts lingered, quietly tethered to the image of Elira, her smile lingering in his mind long after the park had faded from view.