The afternoon light slanted gently through the tall windows, bathing the sitting room in honeyed warmth. Dust motes floated lazily in the air, and the faint scent of rose tea lingered like a secret.
Zelene sat by the window, a delicate porcelain cup in hand, her posture immaculate — the kind of poise drilled into her since childhood. Across from her, a few maids hovered nervously, pouring tea and offering small pastries with shaking hands.
"Sit," Zelene had said earlier, waving away their protests. "I can't enjoy tea if everyone around me looks like they're about to faint."
That earned her hesitant smiles. The youngest among them, Elise — the same maid Zelene had stepped in for during Miren's scolding — perched carefully on the edge of her chair, clutching her teacup as though it might vanish.
It wasn't a grand gesture, this tea time. But the air felt lighter, freer. For a brief moment, Zelene forgot the invisible walls pressing in around Dravenhart.
They talked in small, harmless circles — the weather, the gardens, the absurdity of noble etiquette. Elise laughed once, quietly, like she was afraid of the sound.
It made Zelene smile.
But when the laughter faded, and the maids excused themselves to return to their duties, the silence that followed was thick with unspoken thoughts.
Zelene traced her finger along the rim of her teacup, watching the ripples settle.
Why am I doing this?
She wasn't a Dravenhart. Not by blood, not by title — not even by choice. Her role in this manor was a fabrication, a convenient deception. She had no real stake in how the servants were treated, no reason to meddle in the household's affairs.
And yet…
Every time she saw Miren's cold efficiency or a maid's bruised wrist, something in her twisted.
Why do I care?
She wanted to call it morality. Or stubbornness. Or maybe it was pride — the idea that if she was to play the part of a Duchess, she might as well be a good one.
But deep down, she knew it wasn't that simple.
She wanted to fix things — not because it was her duty, but because it felt right.
Because someone had to.
Still, there were moments she just wanted to go home.
Back to Evandelle. Back to the familiar scent of lavender halls and her father's booming voice — the kind that could shake chandeliers when angry.
If she returned now, though, without reason or explanation, her father would unleash fury, not concern.
And Kael… Kael would likely just let her go.
That thought stung more than she wanted to admit.
The door creaked slightly.
Ray had been standing by the corner the entire time, half in shadow, as silent and steadfast as always. When the last maid curtsied and left, Zelene expected the quiet to stretch on — comfortable, predictable.
But then he spoke.
"Why not tell the Duke about this?"
Zelene froze mid-sip. Slowly, she lowered her cup, her gaze flicking up to him.
"Excuse me?" she said, unsure if she'd misheard.
Ray met her eyes — calm, steady, but there was something different there. Curiosity, maybe. Or concern, buried under that stoic surface.
"The corruption," he said simply. "The head maid. The mismanagement. You've already seen enough to prove it."
Zelene blinked, caught completely off guard. This was the first time he had initiated conversation with her — not out of necessity, not in battle, but because he chose to.
She gave a soft, incredulous laugh. "And here I thought you were allergic to complete sentences."
He didn't react. Typical.
She sighed, leaning back in her chair, studying him. "Why not tell him?" she repeated softly. "Because he wouldn't listen."
Ray's brow furrowed, just slightly.
Zelene swirled her tea absently. "Kael Dravenhart is many things — sharp, disciplined, frighteningly competent when it comes to warfare. But domestic affairs?" She let out a humorless chuckle. "He probably thinks 'household harmony' is something you can enforce with a sword."
Ray's silence said he didn't entirely disagree.
"And besides," she continued, her tone softening, "I don't think he'd believe me. I'm just the woman he parades around to fool the court, remember?"
Something in Ray's gaze flickered — not pity, but a faint ripple of recognition.
Zelene smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "No, Ray. This isn't his burden to fix. Not yet. Not until I understand who Miren really serves."
She stood, brushing invisible creases from her gown, every motion graceful and deliberate. "And when I do," she added, glancing at him over her shoulder, "then I'll decide if Kael deserves to know."
Ray's jaw tightened, but he said nothing more.
As she walked toward the window, the sunlight caught in her hair, turning it to liquid gold. The estate beyond stretched vast and beautiful — a kingdom within a cage.
Her reflection in the glass looked calm, but her heart whispered otherwise.
She wasn't sure what scared her more — Miren's schemes, or the growing realization that she was beginning to care too deeply for a life that wasn't supposed to be hers.