The mont Salviana, Jean, and the rest stepped into their quarters, they were t with the warm yet startled faces of their maids—Thalia, Emma, and Sarah.
"My Lady! You’ve returned!" Thalia gasped, stepping forward with relief clear on her face.
Emma, the most expressive of the three, put a hand to her chest. "And in one piece! Thank the heavens, we were worried sick."
Sarah, ever the reserved one, rely nodded, though the way she quickly stepped forward to help remove Salviana’s cloak spoke volus.
Before the maids could launch into more questions, Salviana spoke, her tone firm yet warm. "We don’t have much ti to rest. We’re leaving again soon. Pack a luggage for us—essentials only. We’re traveling."
A beat of silence followed.
The three maids exchanged glances.
"You’re—traveling? So soon?" Thalia asked carefully, as if she had misheard.
"To where, My Lady?" Emma’s brows furrowed.
Sarah, ever practical, sighed and said, "I’ll fetch the trunks."
"Wyfhaven," Jean answered before Salviana could. "And we’re leaving today."
Thalia let out a dramatic gasp. "Today?! My Lady, the castle’s been full of rumors, and now you’re just—vanishing again?"
Salviana gave a small, tired smile. "I’m not vanishing. Just... on another journey."
Emma huffed as she moved toward the wardrobe. "I swear, if I pack a trunk just for it to co back unopened again, I’m going to riot."
That made Jean laugh. "No promises."
As the maids hurriedly began pulling together traveling outfits, Sarah asked, "Will you require dresses fit for court, or is this more of an—adventure?"
Lucius, leaning against the doorfra, chuckled. "Definitely an adventure."
Thalia groaned. "Then that ans we need to pack clothes you can actually move in."
Emma snorted. "Not that My Lady wears anything practical anyway."
Salviana gave her a pointed look. "Emma."
The maid grinned cheekily. "Just saying, My Lady."
As the room bustled with activity, the air filled with conversation—so light, so teasing, so filled with concern. But despite their surprise, the maids did what they did best: they got to work.
Jean moved about her room, gathering the last of her belongings while Lucius sat on the chair by the window, his posture relaxed but his presence heavy. The room was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that wasn’t entirely comfortable but wasn’t suffocating either. It was laced with sothing unspoken, sothing neither of them had addressed yet.
She folded a tunic and placed it in her trunk before glancing at him. "Aren’t you going to pack?"
Lucius stretched out his legs, tilting his head slightly in amusent. "I don’t have much to carry The three pieces I own are already in the carriage."
Jean let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "Of course. A man of simplicity." She turned back to her trunk, adjusting a few items to make more space. "Unlike , who needs to make sure I have at least three pairs of shoes."
Lucius watched her with an unreadable expression, fingers drumming lazily against the armrest. "You don’t seem like the type to fuss over shoes."
Jean huffed. "I don’t. But I also don’t want to be caught in the middle of the journey realizing I left my good boots behind."
Lucius smirked. "Practical."
Jean rolled her eyes but smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The silence settled again, only interrupted by the rustling of fabric and the occasional crackle of the fireplace.
Then, out of nowhere, Lucius spoke, his voice softer than before. "You were quiet today."
Jean paused mid-fold. "What?"
"At the inn. On the way back. Even when Lilian and Benjamin were spitting their nonsense." He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees. "You didn’t say much."
Jean’s grip tightened on the dress in her hands before she forced herself to relax. "I didn’t feel like wasting my breath."
Lucius studied her for a mont. "Lies."
Jean snapped her head up, frowning. "Excuse ?"
"You were hurt," he said plainly. "You don’t have to pretend with ."
Jean let out a small, bitter laugh. "You’re annoyingly perceptive."
Lucius simply shrugged.
She sighed, closing the trunk and leaning against it. "It’s just... I know what people think of . That I don’t belong. That I’m not important. It’s tiring to hear it over and over again."
Lucius stood, crossing the room with slow, deliberate steps. When he stopped in front of her, he didn’t touch her, didn’t invade her space. But his presence was grounding. "You are important."
Jean scoffed. "To who?"
"To Salviana. To ."
Jean swallowed, looking up at him. There it was again—that tension, thick and uncertain. She didn’t know if it was the weight of emotions or sothing else entirely. But Lucius, with his piercing gaze and calm deanor, made it hard to breathe.
She tried to laugh it off. "You’re just saying that so I don’t cry all over my freshly packed clothes."
Lucius smirked. "Maybe." Then, after a pause, "But that doesn’t make it any less true."
Jean exhaled, sothing in her chest loosening just a little. "Thanks, Lucius."
He nodded, stepping back. "Get so rest. We leave at dawn."
Jean watched as he walked to the door, pausing only for a second before disappearing down the hall.
She sat there for a long mont, staring at the closed door. Then she whispered to herself, "You are important."
And for the first ti in a long while, she almost believed it.
By the ti they were all ready to leave, the sky had already begun to darken, casting long shadows across the castle grounds. Just as they were about to set off, a royal ssenger arrived, bowing deeply before announcing, "The Royal Grand Hall requests the presence of the Third Prince and his wife for dinner."
Alaric’s face imdiately soured. "I have no interest in whatever nonsense they want to throw at us."
Jean, standing nearby, whispered to Lucius, "That was the fastest scowl I’ve ever seen. Impressive."
Lucius smirked but said nothing.
Salviana, adjusting the cloak draped over her shoulders, let out a thoughtful hum. "There’s no harm in it, Alaric. We should go."
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