Chapter 263 I’m Aware

Kaelus had absolutely zero patience for them.

It was mid-afternoon when Kaelus had finally allowed Seraphina to change out of the ruffled nightmare and back into her comfortable, midnight-blue dress.

They were sitting in the sunlit conservatory, surrounded by orchids. Kaelus was teaching her how to properly whittle a small wooden wolf using a dagger, while Seraphina happily chewed on a piece of dried fruit, the only sweet item not banned by the decree.

The heavy glass doors of the conservatory opened.

Sebastian stepped in, his single blue eye narrowed in irritation.

"Your Grace," Sebastian rasped, bowing slightly.

"Baron Thorne and Viscount Vane are at the gates. They have brought a carriage full of imported toys and request a brief audience to ’welcome the Lady Seraphina to the Capital’s warm embrace.’"

Kaelus didn’t even look up from the piece of wood he was carving.

"Tell them I am occupied with work, Sebastian," Kaelus murmured, his voice flat.

"I attempted that, Your Grace," Sebastian replied dryly. "The Baron insisted. He claimed he brought a mechanical singing bird that the child ’simply must see.’ He strongly implied that refusing the gift would be a slight against the Southern Artisan Guild."

Seraphina paused her chewing.

A mechanical singing bird actually sounded pretty cool. She opened her mouth to ask if they could just take the bird and kick the Baron out.

Kaelus didn’t give her the chance.

The Archduke set the dagger down.

He stood up.

The relaxed, fatherly aura instantly vanished, replaced by the suffocating, freezing domain of the Reaper.

"Sebastian," Kaelus said, his voice dropping into a terrifying whisper. "Go back to the gates. Look the Baron directly in the eye. Tell him that if he attempts to bring his mechanical bird within a hundred feet of my daughter, I will dismantle the toy, force him to swallow the gears, and freeze his digestive tract."

Sebastian didn’t blink. "And the Viscount, Your Grace?"

"Tell the Viscount that I am currently... entertaining my tutor," Kaelus sneered, leaning into using the horrific rumor with ruthless efficiency. "Tell him that I am highly aggressive when interrupted during my... private sessions. Suggest that if he crosses the threshold, I might find him aesthetically pleasing."

Seraphina choked on her dried fruit, slapping a hand over her mouth.

Sebastian’s scarred face remained a mask of stone-cold professional dignity, though his single eye gleamed with respect.

"Brilliant tactical deployment of the rumor, Your Grace," Sebastian bowed. "The Viscount is notoriously traditional. He will likely flee the premises before I finish the sentence."

"Ensure they leave the toys on the pavement before they run," Kaelus ordered, sitting back down and picking up his dagger. "The Sovereign still requires tribute."

"It shall be done."

As Sebastian left to go emotionally devastate the minor nobles, Seraphina looked at her father.

’He just weaponized his own destroyed dignity to steal toys for me,’ Seraphina thought, a overwhelming wave of adoration crashing over her. ’He is a genius. A terrifying, shameless, and brilliant genius.’

"Papa," Seraphina smiled, leaning her head against his arm as he carved the wood. "You are the best."

"I am aware," Kaelus smirked, carefully shaving a sliver of wood from the wolf’s ear. "Now, pay attention to the blade angle. If you are going to stab someone, you must ensure the wrist is locked."

It was the perfect father-daughter afternoon.

But the peace of the Nacht Estate was incredibly fragile. And two days later, the fortress walls were breached not by an army, not by a spy, but by something infinitely more devastating.

****

It was evening.

The two-day dessert famine had finally, mercifully ended.

Seraphina was currently sitting at the mahogany desk in the primary study, demolishing a massive slice of triple-chocolate cake, her cheeks smeared with frosting.

Kaelus was sitting in his leather armchair near the roaring fireplace, holding a glass of dark wine, watching her eat with a fond, quiet smile. The tension of the Capital seemed far away.

The heavy oak doors opened as Sebastian entered the room.

He carried a silver salver, as he always did when delivering the evening post.

But tonight, Sebastian’s demeanor was different. The veteran Head Butler was not moving with his usual crisp, military precision.

His steps were slightly slower, heavier. His single blue eye was fixed entirely on Kaelus, filled with a deep, complex mixture of apprehension and sorrow.

"Evening correspondence, Your Grace," Sebastian rasped quietly, stepping up to the small table next to Kaelus’s armchair.

Kaelus didn’t look at the tray. He kept his eyes on Seraphina, taking a sip of his wine. "Place them on the desk, Sebastian. Alistair can sort through the bureaucratic whining tomorrow."

"These did not arrive via the Imperial Courier, Your Grace," Sebastian said, his voice dropping slightly. "They were left at the eastern gate. Hand-delivered by an un-crested rider. They bear no official seals."

Kaelus paused.

Un-crested riders leaving anonymous letters at the gates of an Archduke were incredibly rare. It usually meant blackmail, a death threat, or intelligence from a deep-cover spy.

Kaelus set his wine glass down.

The relaxed father vanished. The warlord returned.

He reached out and picked up the two envelopes from the silver tray.

They were simple, unadorned, heavy parchment.

No wax seals. No crests.

Just his name, Kaelus, written in plain black ink on the front of each.

Kaelus stared at the first envelope.

The reaction was instantaneous.

It was not the panic he had exhibited when the black-wax letter had arrived days ago. It was something different. It was a sudden stillness.

The color completely drained from his face. His breathing stopped.

His long, elegant fingers began to tremble so violently the heavy parchment rattled audibly in the quiet room.

Seraphina stopped eating her cake.

Her adult instincts flared.

She dropped her fork, slipping off the chair, and waddled quietly over to the fireplace, standing a few feet away, watching him intently.

Kaelus didn’t notice her.

His violet eyes were wide, locked onto the handwriting on the envelopes.

He didn’t need a crest. He didn’t need a wax seal.

He had spent his childhood reading that handwriting. He had helped teach the owners of that handwriting how to hold a quill.

The first envelope bore elegant, sweeping, meticulously neat calligraphy. The letters were slightly slanted, the loops of the ’K’ drawn with beautiful grace.

It was Elara’s handwriting.

The second envelope was messier.

The strokes were sharp, harsh, and impatient. The ink was slightly smudged near the bottom, as if the writer had rushed the final letters.

It was Caspian’s handwriting.

For fifteen years, Kaelus had received nothing from them.

Not a birthday greeting, not a missive regarding the weather, nothing but silence.

And now, two days after the disastrous, explosive confrontation in his study, where they had stood silently behind the Uncle who insulted his daughter... they had written to him.

"Sebastian," Kaelus whispered.

His voice was broken. It was the sound of a man trying to speak with a throat full of glass. "Leave us."

"Yes, Your Grace," Sebastian bowed deeply, his scarred face heavy with empathy. He turned and quietly exited the study, pulling the heavy doors completely shut.

Kaelus sat alone by the fire, holding the two letters.

His hands were shaking so badly he couldn’t open them.

He stared at the names.

The thick, impenetrable fortress of black mythril ice he had built around his heart was groaning, the foundational pillars cracking under the weight of hope and terror.

’Why now?’ Kaelus’s mind tears pricking the corners of his glowing eyes. ’Why, after fifteen years of silence? Are they writing to formally sever the bloodline? Are they writing to demand I apologize to Valerius? I cannot read them. If they contain hatred... it will kill me.’

He moved to toss the letters directly into the roaring fireplace.

He couldn’t bear to read the confirmation of their betrayal.

A small, warm hand gently wrapped around his trembling wrist.

Kaelus froze as he looked down.

Seraphina was standing beside his armchair.

She wasn’t acting like a bubbly toddler. She wasn’t puffing her cheeks. She was looking at him with eyes that were ancient, deep, and filled with unwavering understanding.

"Don’t burn them, Papa," Seraphina said softly.

"You don’t understand, Seraphina," Kaelus rasped, a single tear escaping his eye to trace a hot, bitter path down his pale cheek. "They are from my siblings."