"Say ahhh…"
Jemina held a spoonful of custard toward her husband, smiling brightly as if that alone might make him cooperate.
Noctellis didn't even look up.
He continued writing, his pen moving steadily across the paper as though she and the spoon hovering near his face did not exist at all.
He had been busy. Far too busy.
So busy that she had been refused entry into his office no less than a hundred times.
Which was exactly why she had barged in today and used her authority as duchess like a weapon.
"I heard from the servants that you haven't been eating properly," she said, still holding the spoon up. "So I made this for you."
His pen finally stopped.
But still, he did not look at her.
"A servant is reporting my activities to you?"
"Not reporting," she said quickly. "More like… overhearing. Accidentally. Repeatedly. Anyway, that's not important. Please try this."
She nudged the spoon a little closer.
Noctellis's gaze shifted at last, landing not on her, but on the custard.
"I do not prefer sweets."
"Nonsense!" Jemina beamed. "Sweets are wonderful! Just try it, I'm sure you'll like it."
"Nonsense?" His voice cooled. "If you had time to listen to servants gossip, then you should have taken the opportunity to understand your husband better."
Jemina blinked. "What do you mean?"
"Did you truly believe my body functions the same as any ordinary man?" he said flatly.
"Have you forgotten what kind of man you married?"
Understanding dawned.
And instead of sympathy.
She lit up.
"Then tell me!" she said eagerly. "How does your tongue work? What do you like? I'll make you something you'll never forget!"
For a moment.
Silence.
Then...
"Jemina," he said, finally looking at her, "you are a duchess. There are more important things for you to learn than cooking."
He turned slightly.
"Call the butler."
The door opened almost instantly.
"Ensure the duchess never enters the kitchen again."
"…Understood, my lord."
Jemina froze.
Just for a second.
Then...
"Ah! You're busy," she said lightly. "I'll go, then. But wait, just one thing!"
She pretended to dig through her skirt.
Then raised her hands and made a heart shape.
Right at him.
"Gaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh!!!"
Jemina jolted upright in her room, immediately dropping into a dramatic surrender cobra pose.
Her hair tie dangled from her fingers, completely forgotten.
"…Why would I do that?!" she groaned.
The door burst open.
Raisa stood there, unimpressed as ever, while Rosaline peeked from behind her, looking worried.
"What is it now?" Raisa asked flatly.
"Nothing! Nothing at all. Completely fine. Mentally stable."
"…You had better excuses before."
"Oh, come on. Just accept it. Please? Pleeeeeease?"
Jemina struck a cute pose.
Raisa looked like she was debating whether or not to throw her out the window.
"Uhm… Jemina," Rosaline said gently, "would you like me to help with your hair?"
Jemina perked up immediately. "Really? Yes, please!"
"Just cut it," Raisa muttered.
"No!" Jemina clutched her hair protectively. "I love my long hair."
"It smells like burnt soil."
"…That is oddly specific."
She sniffed her own hair.
Raisa left the room without another word.
"…I think I should wash it first," Jemina said.
"Oh! It's alright, I don't mind!"
"The smell?"
"The brushing!" Rosaline panicked.
Jemina laughed.
"Rosaline, you're doing more than enough already. We're not going to kick you out because of a little dust."
Rosaline relaxed slightly.
Jemina patted the space beside her.
"Come on. Sit."
They settled on the bed, gazing out the window together.
"Was there an insect earlier?" Rosaline asked. "Is that why you screamed?"
"I screamed?" Jemina blinked. "Oh. Right. That. No… not an insect."
A pause.
Then...
"Rosaline… do you remember your first love?"
Rosaline turned pink immediately.
"Oh? So there was one," Jemina teased. "What was he like?"
"He worked for my family," Rosaline said softly. "We used to play together in the garden."
"Was he handsome?"
Rosaline nodded.
"He had black hair and pale blue eyes. Not unusual, but… after the hero of the empire became famous, people started admiring black-haired men more."
Jemina stiffened slightly.
"I see… He must have been very handsome, then."
"Oh, no," Rosaline said quickly. "Only the hair is similar. Comparing him to the Duke would be… an insult."
Jemina laughed weakly. "Ah… ha ha…"
"They say the Duke is like a masterpiece," Rosaline continued. "That you can hear the heavens just by looking at him."
"…Ah."
"Jemina? You don't look well."
"I'm fine," she said quickly. "What about his wife? People must… dislike her."
Rosaline hesitated.
"They say she failed to bear him a child," she admitted. "And that she lacks proper manners…"
"I've heard that before."
"They also say… all she has is her beauty."
Jemina blinked.
"…Go on."
"They say she's ethereal. Slender, graceful… long brown hair, soft features… very beautiful."
Jemina was smiling.
Very widely.
"…Go on."
"They say the Duke loved her so much he hid her from society."
"…That sounds romantic," Jemina murmured.
"What do you think?" she added quickly.
Rosaline shook her head.
"No."
Jemina blinked. "No?"
"People like to romanticize things," Rosaline said quietly. "But from what I've seen… I don't think he hid her out of love."
"…Oh?"
"He seems like someone who controls," Rosaline said. "Not someone who cherishes."
Jemina fell silent.
"…Then your first love should be the opposite of him," she said lightly.
Rosaline smiled.
"I hope so."
"I'll welcome him grandly if he ever comes here," Jemina said. "So he never leaves again."
Rosaline giggled.
And Jemina felt something pinch softly in her chest.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
The village had no walls.
It didn't need them.
Protection came from awareness.
From below, the mudwolves listened, tracking every vibration, every shift in the earth.
Above, the Ghastlies reacted instantly to visible threats, teeth bared, bodies tense.
Together, they formed a system.
One warned of what was coming.
The other warned of what had arrived.
And at the center of it all...
Was Jemina.
Not its ruler.
Not its master.
But something else entirely.
Something the forest itself had begun to recognize.
Jemina was halfway through dinner when the signal came.
The elder mudwolf appeared beside her.
"Oh no," Jemina said. "I haven't even had dessert yet."
"What dessert?" Raisa asked.
"…You're right. Emergency accepted."
She stood.
"Wait, I'm coming with you," Raisa said.
"Why? It's probably just something trying to eat us. We handle those daily."
"Can I come too?" Rosaline asked, hopeful.
Jemina grinned.
"Oh? You want entertainment? Very well. But don't regret it when you see my Ghastlies on a rampage."
"They should be more afraid of the mudwolves," Raisa muttered.
"Well, with you there, you'll be the scariest one anyway."
Raisa's eyes flashed.
Jemina laughed.
They didn't have to go far.
The visitor was already there.
A boy.
Young. Perhaps a teenager.
He stepped into the light.
Black hair.
Pale blue eyes.
Rosaline gasped.
"Lucas?"
He smiled.
Easy.
Familiar.
"Hey, Rosa."
Jemina gasped softly.
Then leaned toward Raisa.
"…Oh, this is good."
A pause.
"This is peak entertainment."