The Armaturova Family (Part - I)

Cordelia despised having her sleep disturbed. Rest was sacred, a necessity that no one should dare interfere with.

Yet fate—and fools—seemed determined to test her patience.

"Oh my, our young lady is just like a cute doll... Ah!"

The overly enthusiastic voice was abruptly cut off by a muffled thwack, followed by a pained groan.

"Why did you hit me?! Edrie—"

Nester Xarya's grumbling was cut short as he rubbed the back of his head, casting a betrayed look at his twin sister. For an entire week, he had been trying to catch a glimpse of the newborn young lady, but duty had kept him occupied at every turn.

Lying in her crib, Cordelia didn't bother opening her eyes. How annoying… The intrusion grated on her nerves.

His thoughts were evidently discerned by his sister, Edriesa Xarya, who coolly relayed them.

"You are being noisy."

Two days ago, Cordelia had discovered a frustrating truth—no matter how soundproofed her chamber was, she still woke at the faintest disturbance. A constant lethargy clung to her, her body heavy with drowsiness, yet her senses were paradoxically heightened. She could perceive everything around her with unnatural clarity, even in slumber. It made rest difficult, and any noise an irritation.

The Duchess had noticed her daughter's unease and promptly discussed it with the Duke. The result was a new chamber, meticulously arranged for Cordelia's comfort.

Unlike the previous nursery, this room was vast and free of unnecessary furniture. A velvety carpet covered the entire floor to prevent any harm from accidental falls—a precaution Duke Aleksei Armaturov had personally insisted upon. A grand, ornate crib stood at the chamber's center, its intricate carvings resembling winding constellations. Around it, plush toys lay scattered like silent guardians.

Most importantly, a potent ward had been cast over the chamber, ensuring an undisturbed slumber. Or at least, that was the intention.

Near the crib, the Xarya twins faced off. Cordelia caught sight of Edriesa's back as she stood in front of her, shielding her like a silent sentinel. Her gaze then drifted to the man opposite her.

They look remarkably alike… Siblings, perhaps.

She studied them with mild curiosity before closing her eyes again, feigning sleep.

Nester, however, remained persistent. "You're saying my voice will wake her? But that's impossible!" he whispered, clearly unwilling to concede defeat. "Newborns are lethargic for the first six months. They spend most of their time asleep to conserve energy and strengthen their aura."

That piece of information piqued Cordelia's interest. So that explains my constant drowsiness…

Edriesa, as usual, was unimpressed. "That reasoning doesn't apply to the young lady."

Nester sighed, dramatically lowering his voice to near pleading. "Fine, fine. But just one more glance?"

His sister's unimpressed stare said it all.

Realizing that words alone wouldn't work, he resorted to bribery—an apple pastry from the kitchens, her favorite.

Edriesa remained unmoved. "Leave, or I will call Master."

Nester paled. "Ah! Why didn't Master assign me instead of you?!"

"Too dumb."

He gasped. "How… How could you! You bully—I'm your older brother!"

Edriesa simply turned her back to him, a silent declaration of her disinterest.

Cordelia, still pretending to sleep: "..."

She was struggling not to break character.

In the end, Nester was quite literally shoved out of the room by his ruthless little sister.

---

Duke's Study—A Storm Beneath a Calm Surface

The Armaturov estate's study was a grand, stately chamber lined with towering bookshelves, their spines gilded with the wisdom of ages. Heavy drapes muted the morning light, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk where Duke Aleksei Armaturov sat, his broad shoulders rigid with tension. A mountain of documents lay before him, yet his storm-blue eyes remained fixed on a single report.

Zoran Velka, his ever-efficient butler, stood by with a fresh pot of black tea, observing his master's displeasure in silence.

Master is troubled…

The air in the study was thick with quiet fury as the Duke finally spoke.

"How did they find out?"

His voice was measured, but the weight behind it was undeniable.

Across the desk, Atlas Draganov stood stiffly, his head bowed. "The news came from the royal palace," he reported, his tone edged with frustration. "Her Majesty mentioned it at a gathering. Upon hearing this, I left the capital immediately to inform you. It was my negligence. Please issue punishment as you see fit."

He clenched his fists at his sides. It was rare for Atlas to make an error—espionage and intelligence were his specialties. Yet the information had leaked before he could even identify the source. A failure, no matter how slight, was a stain upon his record.

The Duke remained silent for a long moment, tapping his fingers against the armrest. Finally, he exhaled.

"There will be no punishment."

Atlas blinked, momentarily stunned.

"You did not fail in your duty," the Duke continued, flipping through the report once more. "But this confirms what I suspected—the royal family is shielding the source of the leak. They will use this to stir unrest when it suits them."

Zoran placed a teacup on the desk, his movements precise. "Would you like me to arrange countermeasures, Your Grace?"

The Duke glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Not yet."

His primary concern was Cordelia's safety. Employing a suitable nanny had already proven difficult, and for now, Edriesa Xarya was the only knight entrusted with watching over her.

His wife, Duchess Yelena Armaturova, had insisted on handling many of Cordelia's care duties personally—bathing her, feeding her, keeping her close at all times. He had agreed, though the lingering unease in his chest never faded.

He recalled the conversation from a week ago, the one that had refused to leave his mind.

---

A Memory—The Midwife's Omen

The midwife, Madame Lennon, sat across from him, fidgeting nervously.

"Your Grace… I… I examined the young lady's vitals. She is strong, in perfect health."

The Duke remained impassive. "Continue."

"I could not determine the reason behind her… unique hair color."

A flicker of emotion passed through his eyes.

"Any sign of a curse? A spell?"

"No, Your Grace. However…" she hesitated. "I did sense something peculiar surrounding her vitals. A protective aura. It was faint—barely there—but unmistakable. I… I do not know its source."

His grip on the armrest tightened.

"You sensed it, but I did not?"

Madame Lennon hesitated before nodding. "It was present only when I first carried her. Before Her Grace took her into her arms."

The Duke exhaled slowly, his gaze dark and unreadable.

---

Now, seated in his study, he stared at the report once more, fingers drumming against the wood.

Royal palace… The Queen moves her pieces carefully. But I will not allow them to touch my daughter.