Chapter 44: Consequences

The morning broke with an unexpected radiance.

For once, Puerto Cuidad's ever-sullen skies parted to let sunlight trickle through the estate windows like gold dust. The marble halls of the Matteo manor, often cloaked in mist and candlelight, now shimmered softly under the kiss of warmth.

In the estate kitchens, where war plans and whispers often brewed more intensely than stew, Kenneth sat slouched at a corner table. His teacup had long gone cold in his hand, the steam vanished into the air. His dark coat hung open, his posture heavy—not with exhaustion, but with something harder to name.

He sighed.

A soft touch landed on his shoulder.

He glanced up.

Cheri, pale and ethereal in the sunlit haze, leaned gently into him. Her hand rested atop his shoulder, her presence warm despite her delicate appearance. Emerald eyes met his, concern etched in every line of her face.

He gave her a faint smile.

"I'm fine, Cheri. Thank you."

She slid onto the bench beside him, a slice of mango already in hand. She took a delicate bite—sweet juice staining her lip—but her eyes stayed fixed on him.

"Do you think they'll finally start talking again soon?"

She didn't need to clarify.

They both knew who they were.

Their respective masters.

Kenneth sipped the lukewarm tea, wincing slightly at the taste. His eyes were distant.

"They need to. He's going on this… crusade in her name, and she hasn't the faintest idea what's happening beyond the estate walls. That's not right."

Cheri lowered her fruit.

Her face flickered. Guilt, uncertainty—something between.

Kenneth narrowed his gaze. "What? What happened last night?"

She hesitated, then sighed.

"A letter arrived. Very late. I wasn't supposed to hear anything, but I caught words. 'Brother.' 'Underground.' Lady Elena and Lady Aurora looked like they'd seen ghosts. They barely moved for minutes."

Kenneth hummed low in his throat, tapping his teacup with a finger. The sunlight danced in the amber depths.

"Things are going to move foward, I think. And soon."

Cheri nodded.

She finished her fruit with a few quick bites and leaned forward, arms folded on the table, chin resting against them.

"I certainly hope so." Her voice lowered to a murmur. "Why is Lord Seamus so distant now? He used to follow her like a shadow. Obsessive, even. Now… it's like he's avoiding her."

Kenneth grimaced at his now-cold tea. "For whatever reason, he thinks keeping distance keeps her safe."

Cheri straightened, appalled.

"That makes no sense!" she burst. "She's safer closer to him! Especially now!"

Kenneth nodded solemnly. "Not to mention they're both grieving the child. Unborn, yes, but… that loss lingers in everything they do."

Cheri sighed heavily.

"They should be together in this. They need each other. And yet-"

The sound of a door creaking made them freeze.

Seamus stepped into the room, his dark robes hanging from his tall frame like a cloak of shadow. In his hand, an empty teapot. His expression unreadable.

Both attendants stood sharply.

"Good day, my lord-"

Seamus raised a single finger, silencing them.

He glanced between them, icy silver eyes narrowing slightly.

"What letter?"

Silence.

"And… do you really think I've been too distant from her?"

Kenneth hesitated.

Cheri did not.

Her voice, when she spoke, trembled—but not with fear. With emotion. With conviction.

"To speak frankly, my lord," she began, fists clenched at her sides, "Elena needs you. You welcomed her with tenderness, affection, and purpose—only to vanish from her side when things turned hard."

Seamus blinked.

Mouth open. No words.

Cheri continued, unable to stop now.

"She's been in pain. Studying obsessively for weeks. She barely sleeps. She barely eats. All she does is train and read and bleed herself dry trying to be stronger… for you. For this family. And she's not. Healing. Well."

Kenneth reached for her arm, gently warning her, but she shook him off.

"You're not the only one in mourning, my lord! My lady aches for you. She cries when she thinks we aren't listening. But you keep her at arm's length, why?!"

BANG

Seamus slammed his hand down on the table, the wood rattling beneath the force.

"Enough!" he barked.

Cheri flinched.

The room stilled.

She bowed low.

"Forgive me, my lord. I was too careless with my words."

Seamus stared her down, breath ragged. Then, wordlessly, he turned on his heel and stormed out, beckoning Kenneth to follow.

Kenneth hesitated.

Then turned back to Cheri, who stood silent and pale in the sun-soaked kitchen.

He leaned in and whispered:

"You did good."

Then followed his lord into the light.

Cheri collapsed into a chair, her eyes burning, nerves shot.

Niegal would hear of this. She's the one who keeps him updated for Kenneth, anyway.

She sighed, grabbing another slice of mango.