Casting one final, lingering gaze toward the bed, Len redirected his steps. His boots moved soundlessly toward the expansive royal bathhouse situated in a corner of the grand chamber.
Upon reaching the entrance, he rested his fingers against the intricately carved panels and stepped inside without a shred of haste. The heavy door settled back into its frame with an incredibly faint click, leaving the absolute silence of the room reclaimed once more.
At that exact duration, a heavy wooden door parted quietly down another corridor of the palace. Eric emerged from his chamber, his crimson eyes harboring the remnants of an unfulfilled sleep and his features anchored in a stark suspense.
Lingering for a fraction of a second to scan the vacant hallway, he set his boots into motion, heading precisely in the direction Len had traversed the previous night. There was a peculiar urgency in his stride, as though he were tracing the invisible remnants of a path left behind on the floor.
He forged ahead through the labyrinthine passages and past the ancient pillars, advancing deeper into the western wing of the palace.
A short while later, the door to the bathhouse within Astria's chamber nudged open with a subtle creak. The warm mist from within, laced with the rich aroma of sandalwood oil, drifted out to mingle with the chilly air of the room.
Len crossed the threshold and stepped out. A few stray droplets of water still tumbled from his frame, dissolving instantly into the plush carpet beneath.
A solitary white towel was draped only around his waist, leaving his well-sculpted chest and broad shoulders completely bare. His damp strands lay scattered across his brow, from which a single bead of water traced down the sharp bridge of his nose before falling onto the floor.
At this moment, the stark, grave weight had entirely vanished from Len's features; instead, his face appeared completely unbothered, calm, and remarkably soft, as if the cool water had entirely washed away the lingering tempests within him.
Halting his steps in the center of the chamber, Len exhaled a deep, quiet breath. Lifting his right palm, he threaded his long fingers through his damp, silk-like strands that lay scattered across his brow. With absolute ease, he swept the wet locks backward using his fingers, fully revealing his clean, calm, and soft forehead.
A few stray droplets of water filtered from his hair, tracing down his neck before disappearing.
Having adjusted his hair, Len directed his bare steps toward a massive, ancient carved royal wardrobe resting in another corner of the room.
The damp prints of his feet pressed into the plush carpet, dissolving almost instantly. Reaching the front of the wardrobe, he nudged its heavy panels open to either side. Inside, the finest and most exclusive imperial garments hung in perfect alignment.
Without a shred of haste, Len swept his gaze across the attire, pulling a dark-hued, impeccably fitted royal attire from the rack. Brushing away the white towel from his waist, he began to don the garments one by one with absolute swiftness and grace.
Within a few moments, the close-fitting attire hugged his broad chest, sculpted shoulders, and tall stature perfectly, accentuating his regal authority to its full majesty.
The moment the final edge of his attire was secured, a remarkably soft, measured knock resonated against the massive, carved wooden door. The sound was distinct within the quietude of the morning. No trace of haste or hesitation surfaced across Len's features.
Adjusting the collar of his regal garments, he spoke without turning around, his deep, calm voice cutting through the stillness, "Come in."
The door parted with utmost care, and a young maid stepped inside with immense grace, her eyes strictly anchored toward the floor in deference. Resting within her hands was a heavy silver tray, from which the rich aroma of freshly brewed tea, coffee, and morning confections drifted into the cool air.
Moving soundlessly toward the carved ebony table standing in the room, she began to arrange the porcelain vessels with absolute precision and neatness.
Len directed his measured strides toward that very table. Coming to a halt right beside it, he clasped his hands behind his back and watched her in absolute silence as she performed her duties. His deep gaze eventually lingered onto the sweet delicacies neatly arranged on the tray.
A remarkably soft, gentle, and warm smile traced across his lips, lightening the quiet atmosphere of the room in an instant. "Did anyone explicitly instruct you to prepare something sweet for this morning?"
Len inquired in an incredibly calm, soft tone.
Placing the porcelain cups down, the maid gently lifted her neck. She looked toward Len with profound respect, a subtle, intuitive smile playing across her features.
"No, Young Master... no one granted me any such command," she replied in a polite voice, before adding with a touch of gentle earnestness, "When you returned to the palace yesterday evening, a stark tension and displeasure were vividly clear within your eyes.
The very air of the estate felt heavy. Thus, I simply believed that a touch of sweetness at the break of dawn might offer you some comfort."
A quiet sense of appreciation surfaced within Len's dark eyes for her observant care. Offering another remarkably soft smile, he murmured, "My thanks to you."
With those words, Len moved toward the plush, grand royal sofa resting near the table and settled down with absolute ease and dignity. Beholding him seated, the maid wasted no time; she expertly poured the steaming, aromatic tea into a delicate porcelain cup and extended the saucer toward him with absolute protocol.
Leaning his frame slightly forward on the sofa, Len wrapped his long fingers around the warm cup and began to sip the tea in profound calmness, allowing the remaining traces of the night's weariness to completely dissolve away.
Amidst the steam rising from the warm cup of tea, the maid gathered the courage to inquire in a very low voice after a few moments of silence. "Did something unfortunate transpire last night, Young Master?
Something that anchored your spirit in such heavy displeasure?" Within her tone rested a subtle hesitation mixed with a genuine, deep care.
Len pulled the heavy, black-coal textured cup a fraction away from his lips. No edge of annoyance or friction surfaced across his calm features; instead, that same soft, gentle glint remained within his eyes. He shook his head, offering an immensely natural, quiet smile.
"It is nothing of the sort," Len replied, keeping his voice strictly lowered to ensure the comfort of Astria's slumber remained undisturbed.
Setting the dark-hued cup lightly against the table, he added, "It is the break of dawn, and you must harbor numerous other duties across the estate. You may attend to your remaining tasks."
Beholding Len's exceptionally soft demeanor, a profound sense of relief washed over the maid's expression. A bright smile surfaced across her face. "Very well, Young Master," she murmured, bowing with absolute protocol.
Turning away instantly, her measured steps directed toward the royal bathhouse. Crossing the threshold, she entered the steaming space where Len's discarded damp garments and the white towel lay neatly placed.
Gathering the heavy fabrics with absolute efficiency, she cradled them within her arms and stepped back into the main chamber.
Coming to a halt directly before Len's sofa, she lingered for a brief second. Securing the bundle of clothes within her grasp, she spoke respectfully, "I shall take these garments to be laundered immediately."
Leaning back comfortably on the sofa, Len cast that same remarkably soft, gentle smile toward her once more. "Very well," he uttered in a brief, calm manner.
The maid inclined her neck in deference and, without making a single sound, departed through the main doors of the chamber with the heavy garments in hand. The moment the doors sealed shut, that familiar, velvety silence reclaimed the room entirely.
Len took the final sip of the remaining tea from his cup. With immense delicacy, he rested the black-coal finished frame back onto its saucer, letting out a heavy, muted click of dark stone against stone.
Immediately following this, Len rose from the sofa with his absolute regal composure fully intact.
Sweeping his deep, now completely unbothered gaze across the room, his eyes locked directly onto the grand royal bed where Astria remained anchored in a deep sleep beneath the warm blanket.
Squaring his frame, his measured, silent steps began to advance once more toward the beautiful silhouette resting under the sheets.