I stepped out of the cellar, cool, damp air clinging to my skin, only to be replaced by the warmth of the main house, which hit right away. The vineyard estate was still buzzing outside. Waves crashed on the beach as I heard distant laughter from the fields where Lyra was likely turning those poor kids into monsters, but my mind was on Isobel. She’d bolted up the stairs after that heart-to-heart with her dad, saying she needed to talk to her mom. Fair enough. It wasn’t my place to intrude there. But it had been a while now, and the place was huge. Bigger than I’d expected, sprawling rooms and hallways that twisted like they were designed to get you lost on purpose. Besides, she was my partner here! Without her, I was left to face these awkward interactions alone! I wasn’t antisocial or anything, but eting my lovers family without her as an interdiary was a special kind of awkward.
So... I looked for her. Aimlessly.
I wandered through the foyer, past so more of those enchanted rugs that still shimred like ocean waves underfoot, peeking into the sunroom where we’d seen the first set of them. Empty. Dining room? Nope... Just a couple of butlers setting the table for a al. I continued to walk.
"Isobel?" I called out as I went up a flight of stairs, not wanting to yell and draw attention. No answer.
The house felt alive in a quiet way. Creaks from settling wood, the faint hum of magic in the walls keeping everything lit and cozy, winds carrying birdsongs and distant conversations... but this "living house" was starting to feel like a maze. It reminded of House Greaves back before I knew the layout of the place... And I didn’t have an Isobel to help get a lay of the land!
I pushed through a side door into what looked like a sitting room, velvet couches and bookshelves cramd with dusty books on grape grafting and Aspian history. Sunlight slanted in through tall windows, casting long shadows across the floor. No Isobel. My boots echoed on the polished stone as I kept moving, down a corridor lined with portraits of Greaves family ancestors who were staring down with stern eyes.
I paused by a window overlooking the vineyard, vines heavy with grapes swaying in the breeze. Maybe it was the distant seabreeze, or maybe it was the forced mont of reprieve I’d been given, but I was starting to feel a bit reflective. It’d been a while since I could just... unwind. Get lost in my own thoughts. Everything’s been happening so quickly between the House, my relationship with Isobel, my... shifting relationship with Lyra, and, most importantly, my promise to the House itself. To Isabella. Part of wished there was soone I could talk to about everything. Who knew the future and could tell if I was going the right way. In any other tiline, spending a night here would be a trendous waste of a day when every second counted towards beating the Demon Lord. Now, though? Who knew? I could be on the right track. But, I could also be on the complete wrong track, and spending ti here actually was a waste of ti.
I stepped away from the window, moving to leave this study. "I’ll have to trust my gut, I guess. This run’s been so out of whack that I don’t think old rules apply anymore..."
I opened the door, prepared to resu my search–and distract myself from my more pensive thoughts–only to walk directly into soone who’d been moving to enter the room. I caught myself, reaching out to steady the figure before they hit the floor. It was the maid from earlier, Savrah Dhosil She’d dropped a stack of linens, and they scattered like white petals.
"Crap! I’m sorry! You okay?"
She blinked up at with her red eyes, pointy ears twitching slightly. "Y-yes, milord. Clumsy ."
I helped her up, brushing off her sleeve. She gathered the linens quickly, but her hands shook a bit.
"Hey, have you seen Isobel? I’m looking for her. She was heading to talk to her mom, but I’ve checked half the house."
Savrah nodded, avoiding my gaze at first before peeking up slightly. "I... I have. She’s in her mother’s room. The Lady actually sent for you. Follow if you would, milord."
She started leading down the hall, her steps quicker now, but sothing felt... off. The corridor was far too quiet. No chatter from other staff, just our footsteps echoing. And she kept her eyes down, like they were glued to the floor. Then, out of nowhere, her hand brushed my forearm, gripping lightly.
"T-this floor was just mopped," she’d said when I turned to her. "The soap used is notoriously slippery."
She led through more twisting halls, arched doorways and tapestries depicting Greaves Family history. The air grew warr, scented with lavender, patchouli, and hints of coffee as we approached a heavy oak door carved with intricate vines.
"Through here," she murmured, her hand sliding up my back as I opened the door. "Give Lady Greaves my regards, milord. If you’ll excuse ."
I blinked, adjusting to the room. It was a bedroom, no doubt: a massive four-poster bed draped in deep green silks sat at the far wall, a vanity cluttered with perfus and jewels stood across from it, windows overlooking the sea with gauzy curtains billowing beside it. And there, standing by the hearth across from the bed, was Lady Greaves. Isobel’s mother, tall and poised, her dark hair loose now, falling in waves. She wore a simple green robe speckled with expensive-looking jewels and golden patterns.
"Lloyd May," she said, voice smooth as aged wine. "I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to speak to you in private like this." She turned to , smiling in a way that reminded of her daughter. "I instructed Savrah to lead you here whenever the opportunity arose. I’d say she did well, didn’t she? She waited for you to be separated from Isobel, trapped you in series of Dinsion Doors, then led you straight here. Crafty little thing, that one. She’s gonna be a 5-Star Wizard soday."
"If you wanted to speak to alone, you could’ve just asked." I paused, considering sothing. "Did you speak with Isobel? Savrah said she’d be here."
"I did. We had a long, overdue conversation. Right now, though, Isobel is a bit occupied. A few of the maids are leading her on a little goose chase through the east wing. It’ll buy us ti, but not that much. She’s a cunning girl. But of course she is. She’s my daughter, after all." She poured two glasses of wine from a decanter, handing one. She flicked her wrist, summoning a lavish-looking set of chairs with a wave of her hand. "Now, co sit. I’d like to speak with you."
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