Elara sat on the edge of her bed, her fingertips gliding across the spines of the books stacked beside her. She had devoured them all over the past weeks—romances, faded histories, quiet tragedies. She loved each story, yet the thought of rereading them felt like chewing on the same emptiness again.
Her breath tightened in her chest, as though words could no longer fill the silence.
A soft knock at the door cut through her drifting thoughts.
The maid entered, balancing a small stack of books in her arms. Her eyes flicked to Elara's face, searching for a glimpse of her mood.
"My Lady… I brought some new books for you," she said with careful composure.
Elara's eyes brightened with a rare, genuine warmth. A shy smile blossomed on her lips, fragile as a flower in winter. She reached out and took a book as if afraid it might vanish in her hands.
"These are wonderful… where did you find them?" she asked softly, her voice carrying a childlike curiosity laced with timidity.
The maid hesitated, her fingers tightening around the remaining stack. A faint blush colored her cheeks.
"I told Sir Aurelian the kinds of books you prefer… he arranged to bring them here." She added quickly, words almost rehearsed: "There is no need to thank us, My Lady. You are the Duchess Blackthorne. We are here to serve you and ensure your comfort."
Elara lowered her head, her thumb brushing the edge of the first page. For a moment, the words seemed too heavy to speak. At last, in a fragile murmur, she said:
"Still… thank you."
The maid's eyes softened, and for a fleeting instant, the room felt less suffocating, as though the walls themselves had exhaled.
Elara turned back to the stack, unable to suppress the shy smile tugging at her lips.
But at the door, left slightly ajar, someone was watching.
Alaric.
His fingers rested against the wood, holding himself at the border between distance and closeness. On his usually stern face, a rare softness flickered. His eyes traced her every small movement, as though she were a secret too fragile to lose.
A quiet, wistful warmth stirred in his gaze. His chest rose and fell with a restrained breath he could not release.
He pressed his palm more firmly against the door, and for a heartbeat, it seemed he might step inside…
But he paused.
A faint, private smile tugged at his lips—one she would never see. Then he turned, vanishing into the hush of the corridor, leaving only the shadow of his presence behind.
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See you in the shadows…
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