Denova lost track of time again.
She only realized just how many hours had slipped by when a sudden movement caught her eye. At the window of the Duke's office, perched quietly against the pale glow of the moon, sat a bird.
It wasn't chirping.
It wasn't moving.
It was just… watching her.
A slow chill crept up her spine.
"Don't do that," she whispered under her breath, pressing a hand to her chest. "You nearly gave me a heart attack."
The bird tilted its head slightly, dark eyes fixed on her, unblinking. The longer she stared back, the more uncomfortable she felt, as though she wasn't merely being observed, but measured.
Is this one of his? she wondered uneasily. Or something else entirely?
She swallowed and broke eye contact first.
"Alright," she murmured softly, forcing a small, nervous smile. "I'm leaving."
Carefully, she began to restore everything exactly as it had been. Each book returned to its place. The hidden shelf turned back with a quiet click. The vase was set just right, its handle aligned as if untouched. She double checked the desk, smoothing papers, aligning edges until there was no trace she had ever been there.
Only then did she allow herself to breathe.
She slipped out of the office, locking the door behind her, and returned to her room as silently as she'd left it. Once inside, she changed into her pajamas, the fabric soft and familiar against her skin.
She sat on the edge of the bed for a long moment, staring at the floor.
Demons?
Contracts?
Wishes with a price?
Her thoughts refused to settle.
"He wouldn't," she whispered, hugging her knees lightly. "He couldn't…"
Yet doubt lingered, curling quietly in her chest.
Exhaustion eventually won.
She lay back, closing her eyes, telling herself she'd think about it in the morning. After all, she hadn't slept properly the night before back at Ravenscroft Manor. This heaviness, this sudden pull toward sleep….it wasn't strange.
Still, as her consciousness began to drift, one last thought crossed her mind.
If there really was a price… what did he give up?
Within the hour, Denova fell into a deep, sound sleep, unaware that the answers she sought were already drawing closer, patiently waiting for her to wake.
Denova woke with a sharp gasp, sunlight already pouring shamelessly through the curtains and spilling across her bed.
"No…wait, what?" she muttered, blinking hard.
She squinted at the clock on her bedside table and groaned. Almost noon.
With a frustrated sigh, she pushed herself upright, hair tumbling wildly over her shoulders. Her body felt heavy, like it hadn't quite caught up with her mind yet, and honestly, that wasn't surprising. Between the sleepless night at Ravenscroft Manor and everything she'd uncovered afterward, rest had been more of a suggestion than a reality.
She hurried through washing and dressing, fingers clumsy as she insist to the servant that she'll fasten the buttons and smoothed her skirt. Her stomach growled loudly as if scolding her for skipping breakfast.
"Yes, yes, I hear you," she murmured to herself, grabbing her shawl, and look at the servants. "Thank you for your help. I'm going."
As she stepped into the corridor, the manor felt unusually quiet. Too calm. The kind of calm that gave her too much space to think and that was dangerous.
On her way to the dining hall, she spotted Patricia coming from the opposite direction.
The Head Maid stopped immediately and bowed, posture as composed as ever. Denova returned the gesture automatically but her gaze lingered. Dark circles sat beneath Patricia's eyes, faint yet unmistakable, and there was a tension in her expression that hadn't been there before.
She didn't sleep either, Denova realized.
"Patricia." she almost said.
But the words never left her mouth.
Patricia had always been strong.
Quietly so.
The kind of strength that didn't ask for comfort, didn't explain itself. Whatever weighed on her, Denova knew she would handle it in her own way.
So instead, Denova smiled.
Patricia smiled back, soft, tired, grateful, and continued on her way.
Denova let out a long breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
Her thoughts drifted immediately back to last night.
The hidden shelf.
The books.
The word demons burning itself into her memory.
"What are you hiding from me?" she whispered, fingers threading into her hair in frustration. "Really… what is it?"
Her chest tightened. Curiosity warred with fear, and neither one seemed willing to back down.
She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she nearly turned left into the dining hall, and walked straight into someone.
She stopped short.
The Duke stood just a few steps away, walking toward her.
Her heart stumbled.
Is he leaving again? she wondered instantly. Working… always working.
She straightened without thinking, smoothing her dress, her mind racing. There were so many things she wanted to ask him.
About the books.
About the curse.
About the truth behind her arrival in this world.
But she didn't.
She already knew what would happen.
He would smile.
He would evade.
He would step away.
Just like he always did when she got too close.
Then why, her thoughts whispered bitterly, did you kiss me under that willow?
"Good morning," she said instead, her voice softer than she intended.
The Duke looked at her, and smiled.
"Good morning," he replied, warmth threading through his voice. "You weren't at breakfast."
She hesitated, then gave a small shrug. "I was working on my designs. I stayed up too late… and I just woke up."
His gaze lingered on her face, unreadable, thoughtful. For a moment, she wondered if he could see everything she was holding back.
"You should eat," he said gently at last. "You must be starving. I still have some work to do so I do apologize I can't accompany you." The Duke said while caressing his own hair.
She smiled a polite one, safe and careful. "I understand. I will take my meal now, and thank you."
Their eyes met for a brief second longer than necessary. Something unspoken passed between them concern, restraint, something dangerously close to longing.
Denova dipped her head. "Excuse me."
She moved past him before she lost the courage to walk away.
The dining hall felt vast when she entered, the long table nearly empty. She took her seat and began to eat, but the food tasted strangely dull. The quiet pressed in around her, heavy and hollow.
Lowen wasn't there.
He was probably in the garden, laughing with the servants or hiding somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. Normally, his presence filled the space with noise and warmth.
Without him, the room felt cold.
She stared at her plate for a moment, then sighed.
"I can't just sit here feeling sorry for myself," she murmured.
An idea slowly took shape.
She would go out.
She needed new materials, better fabric, stronger thread, colors she hadn't dared to use yet. Not just to design this time, but to sew.
To cut.
To stitch.
She wanted to try making the dress herself.
Not because anyone asked her to, but because she needed to know.
If she could create something with her own hands… then maybe she could trust herself enough to face the truths she was so afraid of uncovering.
With that quiet resolve settling in her chest, Denova stood from the table.
She didn't know it yet, but every step she took away from the manor would bring her closer to answers the Duke had spent lifetimes trying to bury.
After finishing her meal, Denova pushed her chair back slowly, her thoughts already drifting toward what she planned to do next. Sitting alone in the dining hall had only strengthened her resolve, she needed to get out, breathe different air, see something beyond the quiet walls of the manor.
She found Patricia not long after.
"Patricia," Denova called softly, catching the Head Maid just as she was giving instructions to the staff.
Patricia turned at once and bowed. "Yes, Lady Denova?"
"I was hoping you could come with me to the market," Denova said, a little hesitant. "I want to buy a few things, and I'd like to familiarize myself with the place. It's… rather large, and I don't think going alone would be a good idea."
Patricia paused for only a second before nodding. "Of course. I'll accompany you."
Relief flickered across Denova's face. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."
Patricia immediately began giving instructions, calling over one of the trusted maids to help Denova prepare. The efficiency was familiar, comforting. Within minutes, Denova was dressed appropriately for an outing, simple but elegant, enough to blend in without drawing unnecessary attention.
Patricia stood one step behind her, hands neatly folded, posture straight as ever.
"Are you ready, Lady Denova?" the maid asked.
Denova nodded. "Yes."
They stepped into the corridor just as the butler approached. The closer he came, the more Denova noticed the change in Patricia. Her shoulders tensed, just slightly. Her gaze dropped, fingers curling faintly at her side.
Denova glanced at her, concern stirring.
"The carriage is ready, Lady Denova," the butler announced politely.
"Thank you," Denova replied.
They made their way outside and climbed into the carriage. The door closed with a solid thud, sealing them inside.
Silence followed.
It wasn't uncomfortable at first, but as the carriage rolled forward, Denova could feel it settling between them, thick and awkward. She shifted slightly, then finally spoke.
"Patricia," she said gently, "are you alright?"
Patricia hesitated before answering. "I'm fine," she said, her voice calm but quieter than usual. "I just… don't often go to the market."
Denova tilted her head. "I didn't know that."
Patricia offered a small, reassuring smile. "But don't worry. I am familiar enough with it. We won't get lost."
Denova let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "That's good. I was worried I might drag you into chaos."
That earned a soft chuckle from Patricia.
"No chaos today," Patricia replied. "I'll do my best to avoid that."
As the carriage continued toward the bustling heart of the city, Denova watched the scenery pass by the window. For the first time that day, she felt a little lighter.
Patricia seemed… better. Not fully, perhaps, but improved.