Chapter 29

Lassino, who was carefully arranging appetizers in front of Kennard, stumbled upon Elena’s presence and froze mid-motion. The room fell into a hushed stillness as everyone’s attention shifted to the unexpected guest.

The occupants of the table swiftly gauged Kennard’s reaction, trying to decipher his inscrutable expression. In unison, they turned their heads towards Elena, who stood beside Carmen, seemingly caught in a moment of hesitation.

Serin, displaying a mix of surprise and curiosity, gaped at the unfolding scene, while Kennard maintained a poker face directed at Elena. Hazel, observant and composed, alternated her gaze between the two and emitted a subtle, knowing smile.

“Come in,” Carmen whispered as she took a deliberate step toward the table. However, Elena remained immobile, as if turned to stone by the intensity of the situation.

Carmen offered a simple apology for her tardiness, bending her knees in greeting to Kennard before turning her attention to Hazel, who was seated nearby. Meanwhile, Lassino approached, pulled out a chair for Carmen, and discreetly stepped back, leaving her to settle behind Kennard.

“Elena, come and sit too,” Hazel suggested with a warm smile, attempting to diffuse the tension. Turning to Lassino, she added, “Will you prepare a meal for Miss Elena as well?”

Rather than responding immediately, Lassino’s eyes darted toward Kennard’s back, indicating his hesitancy to proceed without a clear signal. The room remained in a state of bewilderment, with everyone, including the servants, exchanging silent glances in response to Elena’s sudden and unexpected presence.

Under the scrutinizing gazes fixated upon her, Elena felt as though she were being pierced by arrows. Regret surged within her, a bitter acknowledgment that it was too late to retract her presence. She had exposed herself to their scrutiny willingly.

Interrupting the tense atmosphere, Kennard set down his fork and queried, “What’s going on?” His deliberate, slow-spoken words cut through the air with a chill reminiscent of the snow-covered plains of Terra Demorte. In Kennard’s cold tone, Elena once again recognized her status as an unwelcome guest.

She hadn’t followed Carmen’s lead. Despite any orders from Hazel and even if Carmen had clung to the bedroom, Elena should have refused. Though she had foreseen this situation, facing it now, she felt an overwhelming urge to hide, even if it were just her head.

“Serin?” 

Kennard’s question lingered in the air, met with Serin’s denial. 

“No, it’s not me,” Serin clarified, shaking his head in response to Kennard’s inquiry. Kennard, seemingly dismissing the possibility that Serin might be responsible, allowed a heavy silence to descend, enveloping the space.

Hazel, unfazed, calmly lifted her glass, breaking the silence with a composed revelation. “I asked her to come.” 

Kennard’s icy gaze turned towards Hazel, seeking an explanation. In response, Hazel continued, “I’ve been here for several days, and I haven’t had a meal with Miss Elena yet. Wouldn’t it be better to dine together here than eating alone in the room?”

“Elena is not feeling well, so I intentionally arranged for her to have her meal in her room,” Serin interjected. Despite Hazel’s words, Serin’s expression remained rigid.

“She’s a guest of the Grand Duke. Shouldn’t we keep her from being lonely by herself?” Hazel persisted, attempting to justify her decision.

“Well, Elena is injured, so…” Serin began to explain, but his words were abruptly cut off by Kennard’s commanding voice. “Enough!” Kennard’s tone brooked no further discussion. “Lassino, prepare a meal for Elena.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Lassino acknowledged promptly. With a subtle gesture, he signaled the attendants standing behind him to withdraw. “Elena, come this way,” he beckoned, pulling out the chair beside Serin.

Swallowing the dry lump in her throat, Elena hesitated for a moment before tentatively taking a step forward. “Thank you,” she uttered as she seated herself and extended her greetings. Lassino responded with a reassuring smile.

Elena’s gaze remained fixed on the blank expanse of the white tablecloth before her. The silence around her was palpable, creating an uncomfortable atmosphere as if she were in a place meant for finality. Even the prospect of having a meal seemed daunting, with doubts about her ability to swallow properly lingering in her mind.

Breaking the silence, attendants returned from outside among the servants, efficiently setting the tableware in front of Elena. The clinking of utensils and the gentle movements around her formed a stark contrast to the quiet tension that enveloped the table.

Upon the ceramic plate, they meticulously arranged a napkin and a solitary flower. On the left side, a dinner fork, a salad fork, and a salad plate found their place. On the opposing side, a dinner knife, a teaspoon, and a soup spoon were methodically laid out, followed by a teacup and saucer. Just when it seemed the orchestration was complete, above the central plate, a dessert fork and spoon were paired with a butter knife and a small glass dish, flanking either side.

Elena’s eyes widened in awe at the formal tableau, an experience wholly unfamiliar even during her private dining moments in the bedroom. “When you have the salad, use the plate on the far left and the small fork. For the main course, use the fork next to it and the knife on this side,” Lassino explained in a hushed tone while gracefully pouring water.

“Thank you,” Elena responded with a gentle nod, her attempt at a smile appearing strained, her facial muscles betraying subtle twitches. The ensuing meal became a blur in her memory, with only the metallic clinks of utensils breaking the static atmosphere. Even the sounds of chewing were stifled, Elena forcing each swallow through a constricted throat.

Chewing and swallowing caused her unbearable pain, as if a sizable rock were lodged in her throat. Her stomach felt suffocated, likely a consequence of excessive tension, while her shoulders ached, possibly due to the unresolved healing of her arm or the stress of the situation. In an unfortunate moment, her grip faltered, and the fork slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly upon the floor.

Embarrassed, Elena hastily leaned to the side to retrieve the fallen utensil.

“Leave it,” Serin intervened swiftly, seizing Elena’s arm as Lassino retrieved the fallen fork, promptly replaced by an attentive attendant. A rosy hue tinted Elena’s face as she bowed her head in embarrassment.

“It seems the guest of His Grace is not familiar with table manners,” Hazel remarked, taking a sip of wine and fixing an amused gaze on Elena. Serin countered with a stern growl, challenging Hazel’s amusement. “Even if she is not familiar with table manners, it doesn’t affect her ability to eat.”

“That’s right. It might not matter for commoners or peasants. However, Miss Elena, who is currently not a noble, looks every bit like a noble lady. Moreover…” Hazel trailed off, her fingertip lightly tracing the lower part of her wine glass, a sly smile playing on her lips. “If one is a guest of His Grace residing in this castle, shouldn’t they know at least basic table manners? It would enhance His Grace’s image in the eyes of the servants.”

Hazel’s smile held a hint of suspicion as she seemingly questioned Elena’s background. “So, Your Highness,” she leaned towards Kennard, their hands raised, fingers nearly touching. Elena felt a figurative tightening around her neck, the subtle distance between the two conveying an unspoken tension. Despite her attempt to avert her gaze, her eyes involuntarily fixated on the fingertips almost touching.

Distracted, Elena struggled to grasp Hazel’s words. “During Elena’s stay in Terra Demorte, it would be nice if she could be my companion, if only for a while,” Hazel proposed, catching Elena off guard. Turning towards Elena, Hazel smiled before redirecting her attention to Kennard. “I could teach Miss Elena noble etiquette. What do you think, Your Highness?”

Desperation filled Elena’s eyes as she gazed at Kennard, silently pleading for him to deem such lessons unnecessary. However, Kennard remained stoically silent, his only action being a sip of water and a casual wipe of his mouth with a napkin as he stood.

Serin, mirroring Kennard’s movements, rose to his feet. “If there’s no answer, can we take it as acceptance?” Hazel pressed, causing Kennard to halt his departure. Slowly turning around, he met Hazel’s gaze, completely ignoring Elena. She stared blankly at Kennard’s side profile, realizing that, except for her initial entrance, he had yet to acknowledge her presence.

“I remember having told you to return to the capital,” Kennard asserted.

“As Your Highness is aware, unlike the capital, Terra Demorte has experienced heavy snowfall, and both horses and servants are quite exhausted. The carriage also needs repairs. Returning would be a long journey, so we need sufficient time to rest,” Hazel explained, attempting to justify their prolonged stay.

“Hasn’t there been enough rest by now? I heard the carriage repairs are almost done. As soon as they are finished, return immediately,” Kennard ordered before abruptly leaving the dining room. Serin shot a glance at Elena, sighed, and followed his master.

Amidst the lingering tension, Lassino and the attendants maintained their positions. Hazel and Carmen resumed their meals as if the exchange had never occurred, the dining room returning to a semblance of normalcy despite the unspoken turmoil.

Setting down her fork and knife, Elena brought the water glass to her lips. A tremor ran through her hand, causing ripples in the water. Struggling to control the quiver, she discreetly placed her other hand beneath the table.

“You shouldn’t lower your hand under the table while holding a glass,” Hazel admonished, her gaze piercing as she scrutinized Elena. Starting from Elena’s head, Hazel conducted a deliberate examination, exhaling slowly as if issuing an invitation to listen.

“When will you do it?” Hazel inquired, her question leaving Elena baffled. Attempting to feign ignorance, Elena ignored the uneasy feeling gnawing at the back of her mind.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m talking about becoming my companion. You’ll have to learn etiquette from me.”

“But His Highness hasn’t given consent…”

“But he hasn’t expressly forbidden it either,” Hazel interjected, her words striking a chord of accuracy. While she had discussed returning to the capital with Elena, there had been no explicit approval or disapproval concerning Elena’s potential etiquette lessons.

“As I mentioned before, I am not a noble. So, I don’t see the need to learn noble etiquette,” Elena replied slowly, choosing her words carefully to maintain composure and prevent her voice from trembling.

“Is that so? Then just be my companion.”

“If being a companion means that Carmen…”

“If you don’t like that, then accompany me openly.”

“What?” Elena responded with surprise, her mouth agape at the unexpected statement. Hazel’s declaration lingered in the air, and Elena, still processing the revelation, stared at Hazel in disbelief. “If you didn’t hear it, I’ll say it again. While I’m staying here, you’ll be my companion.”