The morning light filtered in softly through the bedroom windows, brushing across the carved posts of the bed and the low hum of domestic noise outside.
My maid, Lara, fastened the last button at the back of my gown with gentle fingers. "You look lovely, my lady," she said stepping back. "Lord Storm is waiting for you outside your chambers."
I stiffened slightly. "He is?"
"Yes, my lady."
I gave a faint nod, smoothed my skirts and stepped into the hallway.
Darrell stood exactly where she said he would be— straight–backed in a tailored navy coat, the gold trim catching the morning light. His hands were loosely clasped behind him. When he turned to see me, something in his expression shifted, just slightly.
"Good morning," he said.
"Morning," I replied, curt and even. My voice clipped the air between us like a closing door.
He blinked, not quite taken aback, but watching me closely.We began walking side by side towards the dining room.
"Is something bothering you?" He asked after a long pause.
The words from last night echoed sharply in my mind. ''its hard to play husband to someone I see like a sister."
I winced inwardly but masked it with a small shake of my head. "Just tired." I murmured.
He didn't press, but I felt his eyes on me the rest of the way.
when we reached the dining hall the family had already gathered.
Darrell's father sat at the head of the table. Lady Storm, flawlessly sipped her tea as if it were a ceremony. Coral offered a warm smile the moment she saw me, and Cerelith for once, sat unusually quiet, her gaze downcast over her untouched toast.
We slid into our seats. The butler poured tea, placed the basket trays down in perfect order and withdrew.
"Well,"Lord Storm said, setting down his fork. "I must say— the reception was a success."
Lady Storm nodded, "A gracious presentation of our new lady. You exceeded my expectations."
"Thank you,"I said softly, unsure whether to be pleased or cornered by the praise.
Cerelith hummed quietly, but said nothing.
"I heard people couldn't get enough of the cocoa," Coral chirped, buttering her roll. "They're already asking where we sourced the spices and marshmallows."
Lord Elric looked over at his son. "You ought to buy more. I'm thinking a few extra crates."
Darren raised a brow, "Are we hosting another party?"
"No," lord Storm said folding his hand. "There's been an incident."
The room stilled.
"A city in the east, Ruthven–bordering the trade road. A civil uprising. Small for now. I have to stop it from escalating before we lose a corridor."
Darrell's hand tightened around his cup. "And you've been asked to..."
"Contain it. Remind them who governs the realm."
A flicker passed over Darrell's face. But it was Coral who looked the most unsettled, her knife pausing midspread.
"When do you leave?" She asked.
"Tomorrow," Lord Elric said. "I received the summons yesterday morning."
The words settled like ash across the table. And for a moment the compliments felt like a distant dream.
Darrell set his teacup down with a muted clink. "When do I leave?"
"You don't," his father replied, brushing a crumb from his sleeve. "You'll stay."
Darrell frowned. "What do you mean?"
Lord Storm didn't look up as he answered. "The incident in Ruthven is small. Containable. Colonel Truman is accompanying me. We'll handle it."
A pause. Then sharper, "You'll attend the winter hunt."
Darrell leaned forward, " Is duty more important than a ceremonial hunt."
His father's gaze lifted, cool and unmoved. "Tradition still holds weight, Darrell. The gentry expects a member of the Storm family and you'll attend."
Darrell's voice dropped, tense and brimming. "Is this because I just got married?"
"No," Lord Storm said still calm. "It's because your presence here will matter more in the long term. This is your household now."
"I'm already married,"Darrell muttered, jaw tight. "No need to keep me cooped like a honeymooning husband. This marriage wasn't even a result of love."
The table went still.
I didn't move. I kept my spine straight, my hands folded and my eyes on the untouched slice of pear on my plate.
It wasn't the words. It was the tone. The bitterness behind them. As if being tied to me—being here was beneath him.
Cerelith smirked into her tea. Coral stiffened.
Lady Storm placed her cup down carefully, her expression unfazed but her words edged with quiet command. "Your father and I will be leaving tomorrow. We have obligations that can't be delayed."
She met Darrell's gaze directly.
"You'll attend the winter hunt. And while we're away, you'll not leave your new wife to run the residence on her own. That would be improper."
Darrell said nothing.
I offered her a gentle smile but my heart had folded quietly inside my chest.
The sound of a knife against porcelain. The rustle of a napkin. The hush of a house where everything has been made to look perfect–except the people in it.
I swallowed my silence with a sip of lukewarm tea, wishing once again, I could vanish in the steam.