Evelyra brought the cup to her lips for a final sip of tea. The floral fragrance and lingering warmth faded gently, and she set the porcelain down with delicate care. With the embroidered towel, she dabbed her lips, then rose gracefully, inclining her head slightly toward her mother and brother.
"I shall withdraw," she declared in a voice soft, yet edged with quiet authority.
The countess nodded, her smile serene and approving, while her brother merely arched a brow, signaling that he understood without attempting to detain her. The maids bowed respectfully as Evelyra left the dining hall.
Her boots tapped faintly against the polished floor of the corridor. The walls, adorned with towering tapestries of ancient battles in deep red and gold, alternated with portraits of proud ancestors, framed in carved dark wood. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, painting long patterns of light across the ground that accompanied her measured stride.
The passage stretched endlessly before her. Her steps, soft and controlled, seemed almost weightless—barely audible, like those of someone unseen.
No sooner had she crossed the threshold than her silver-haired servant appeared, light-footed yet eager, her blue eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
"I can hardly believe it—Your plan went well!"
A faint smile touched Evelyra's lips as her golden hair cascaded over her shoulders, gleaming in the sunlight. Her gaze drifted idly across the violet-toned tapestries that narrated her family's history, while her hair, catching the light, shone like a crown.
"But of course. I am not just anyone," she answered, her tone laced with quiet pride.
She tilted her head slightly, a golden strand brushing her lips, and added with subtle vanity:
"After all, I am no ordinary girl. Whatever happens, I will always remain in control."
Katarina's eyes lit with admiration as she watched her mistress. Together, they passed a marble console upon which rested a vase of pale roses, their fragrance lingering delicately in the air. The corridor opened into arches, where beams of light from stained glass spilled across the ground like jewels scattered on stone.
"Yes," the servant whispered almost reverently. "You are right. You are different… unique. Worthy of a true goddess of power."
Evelyra did not reply at once, but a mischievous gleam flickered in her sapphire eyes. She lifted her chin slightly, savoring words that echoed what she had always known about herself.
"Where are we going now? Back to your chambers?" asked Katarina.
"No," Evelyra replied firmly. "We are going to the library. I intend to read what truly happened twenty-four years ago, during the war between Elaria and the Empire."
Moments later, she halted before a pair of massive oak doors, their carved floral patterns twined in elegant designs. Resting her fingers on the gilded handle, she pushed them open and stepped into the family library.
Towering shelves climbed toward the vaulted ceiling, their leather-bound volumes gleaming faintly with gilt titles. Along the walls, a mobile ladder slid upon bronze rails, granting access to the upper rows.
At the center stood a vast table of dark polished wood, cluttered with neat piles of books, scattered quills, a crystal inkwell, and a finely crafted oil lamp whose flame flickered beneath its tinted shade. A circle of tall-backed chairs surrounded the table, while a plush velvet armchair faced a cold, carved stone fireplace adorned with silver candlesticks.
Light filtered through the high windows, draped with heavy blue curtains that cascaded to the ground. The air carried the subtle perfume of old parchment and leather—the distinctive fragrance of places that had held centuries of knowledge.
Evelyra advanced slowly, her fingers brushing the edge of the table, sapphire gaze sweeping over the endless shelves. Here, in this sanctuary of silence and wisdom, she rediscovered a part of herself—beyond the eyes of others, beyond the weight of imposed decisions.
The library was a cathedral of knowledge. With noble bearing, she glided between towering shelves gilded with age. Her eyes, sharp and intense, scanned title after title, though an edge of irritation soon crept across her face.
With elegant precision, she seized the ladder fixed to the bronze rail and ascended, each step echoing softly. Her golden hair spilled down her back in luminous waves, brushing the dark wood as her gaze darted across the spines of forgotten tomes.
"Hmm… 'Treatise on Ancient Dynasties,' no… 'Collection of Winter Songs,' irrelevant… Ah, perhaps… no, not that one…"
Her voice remained low, whispering each title—caught between patience and rising exasperation. She descended, shifted the ladder, and climbed again, boots resounding faintly against the steps. The air grew thicker with the scent of time-worn parchment and leather—a fragrance of memory and dust.
Meanwhile, her silver-haired servant stood quietly at the room's center, hands folded neatly before her apron. She smiled softly, her eyes bright with amusement, as though watching an explorer navigate uncharted lands.
At last, Evelyra sighed, her movements poised yet heavy with contained impatience. Her half-lidded eyes gleamed faintly as she murmured under her breath:
"They're hiding it on purpose…"
A sudden flicker of humor crossed Evelyra's noble features. She turned halfway toward her servant, raising an eyebrow, and spoke with a voice soft yet laced with playful sharpness:
"Do you intend to stand there admiring me all day, or will you help me find this cursed book?"
Katarina let out a light, almost crystalline laugh, bowing swiftly, her cheeks tinged with pink from surprise.
"Forgive me, Milady… you were so graceful with every movement that I momentarily forgot the purpose of your research."
Evelyra descended the ladder with fluid elegance, a subtle smile curving her lips. She approached the padded chair, seated with regal composure, and crossed her legs, tilting her head slightly.
"I am graceful, yes—but above all, I want my book. So… the task is yours this time."
The servant nodded, eyes bright with enthusiasm, and moved toward the shelves, silver hair flowing like a luminous veil. The soft echo of her footsteps contrasted with the solemnity of the library, bringing a livelier, almost joyous energy to the sanctuary of knowledge.
Evelyra settled comfortably in her chair, observing the scene with a faintly amused air, blue eyes sparkling with mischief.
Katarina's fingers traced the leather-bound spines, murmuring the titles under her breath.
"Let's see… Chronicles of Naval Battles… no. The Age of the Founders… still no… Ah, perhaps over here…"
Her voice became lighter, teasing, as she continued, not lifting her gaze from the books.
"You remind me of the little girl you once were, Milady. Always so serious, so focused… yet I remember that day when you made me promise never to tell anyone you were afraid of thunder."
Seated in the chair, Evelyra straightened her back perfectly. Her face remained impassive, but a subtle warmth colored the tips of her cheeks. Her blue eyes, however, betrayed a faintly sharp, controlled gleam.
"Hm… that detail is insignificant," she replied softly, as if brushing away a trivial memory.
Yet the golden strand nervously resting on her lips, and the slight tension in her fingers on the armrest, revealed a touch of embarrassment.
"In class, I had to remain composed… but to revert to a frightened little girl… it unsettled me," she reflected quietly.
Katarina, perceptive as ever, smiled gently.
"Insignificant, yes… yet so touching. You hid behind this very chair, and I was the one who reassured you. Do you remember?"
Evelyra looked momentarily toward the stained glass, light spilling across her pale skin. Her lips curved in a thin, controlled smile—worthy, yet faintly sincere.
"I still cannot believe it… that someone as you, with such character, would call yourself the reincarnation of Eleanor."
The servant laughed softly, then resumed her search on the mobile ladder, silver hair gleaming under the lamp's light.
"At least I can still serve you, and it makes me happy—even without memories of my past life."
Evelyra's fingers skimmed the golden lettering across the spines until a victorious smile finally lit her face.
"Ah… here it is! Wars and Treaties Between the Kingdom of Eleria and the Empire of Orvalis."
Katarina handed the tome to her mistress like a treasure. Evelyra accepted it with elegance, fingers grazing the dark leather. She glanced up at her servant, half stern, half amused:
"Perhaps losing my memories… was the best thing. I was insufferable, after all."
She coughed softly, attempting a natural tone.
"Gr…gr… yes, insufferable…"
Opening the heavy volume, Evelyra began to read, eyes flowing over the first lines with practiced grace. Yet she did not linger; her gaze drifted to her servant, standing not far away, hands folded, eyes wide with admiration.
A delicate silence filled the room, punctuated only by the subtle creak of old leather and the faint stir of velvet curtains in the breeze. Evelyra closed the book briefly, fingers interlaced atop it, voice softer than usual:
"You often speak of my qualities, my strength, my composure… but you, too, are remarkable."
Katarina blinked in surprise. Evelyra's blue eyes bore into hers with an unsettling intensity.
"Your beauty rivals that of the greatest ladies I have known. Your silver hair… your luminous eyes… all of you draws attention. Yet, you remain by my side with flawless loyalty."
Time seemed to pause. Katarina froze, lips parted, unable to breathe. Her cheeks flushed, tears glimmering in her eyes.
"Mi… Milady…" she whispered, voice trembling.
Hands rose to cover her mouth, unable to contain the flood of emotion. Tears streamed slowly down pale cheeks.
"You… you can't know what your words mean to me… All this time, I… I was just a servant, and yet… I always wanted to be worthy to stay near you."
Her body shuddered with joy, as pure and unrestrained as a fulfilled child. Evelyra, caught off guard, maintained her poise. A golden strand brushed her cheek as she spoke with rare softness, tinged with nobility:
"You are far more than a servant. You are the one I trust… a privilege I offer to none."
Katarina wiped her tears clumsily, but a radiant smile broke through. Bowing, voice still quivering:
"Thank you… Thank you, Milady! I will never forget this!"
Evelyra, usually so composed, allowed herself a small smile. She placed the book on the table and, without leaving her chair, let her gaze rest on her devoted servant—contemplating her as one would a rare and precious flower.
A hush settled. Katarina's eyes still shimmered, courage swelling. Then she declared, firm and unwavering:
"Milady… I love you."
Evelyra froze. Her mind, normally so sharp, faltered. "What did she say? It must be a dream… impossible…"
"…Pardon?" she whispered, voice slightly strangled.
Already, Katarina stepped forward, seizing Evelyra's hands with a certainty that was impossible to ignore. The warmth of her palms traveled through Evelyra's icy skin, making her pulse race uncontrollably.
"I shouldn't… but I want it too much. Marry me, Milady," the servant said seriously.
Silence enveloped the room. Evelyra's gaze locked on Katarina's, thoughts spinning. "Marry…? She said marry…? Has she gone mad?"
Evelyra tried to withdraw her hands, but they remained trapped in the steadfast grasp. Heat rose to her cheeks, ears burning.
""Are you… daring… ?!" she managed.
"Calm yourself, Evelyra. Calm… I am not human, but a goddess—not yet. Yet why does my heart…?" Her own racing thoughts betrayed her.
Katarina did not relent, eyes shining with disarming sincerity.
"I am not joking. For all these years, you have been my light. I want only this: to remain by your side. So… marry me."
Her words defied reason, yet Evelyra's heart refused to reject them. "Why do they strike so deeply? Why does it feel as if a blade pierces my chest?"
She turned away, panicked. "S-stop saying such absurdities!"
But her voice betrayed her, trembling despite herself. Fingers shook in Katarina's hold, revealing her inner turmoil.
"I will shout it if needed! I love you, Milady… No, Evelyra!"
Her knees weakened. "If anyone enters now… all is lost… everything from the past seventeen years…"
She sprang up, breaking free, her petticoats swirling like a fleeing tide.
"That's enough!" she cried, scarlet cheeks ablaze. "You… you are completely insane!"
Turning her back, one hand shielding her burning face, the other clutching her chest, she tried to steady her racing heartbeat. Breathe, Evelyra… you are noble, divine… cold, composed, unshakable… so why… why do these words haunt me like a sweet curse?
Behind her, Katarina whispered softly, a gentle smile on her lips:
"Even so… you are sublime, Milady."
Evelyra's blood seemed to boil. She raised her arms toward the ceiling, desperate:
"By all the saints… why must my precious Eleanor become like this?!"