7. That Summer
“You must be tired from the long journey. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
Shaylin and Olivier warmly welcomed them into the Duval family's opulent drawing room. They were Killian, who had just disembarked from the fast cutter that morning, and Kylie and Evril, who had arrived around the same time from the Kingston family's private yacht. Following Gophrid's instructions to deliver Evril straight to Baron Loren upon reaching Eliyum, Kylie had waited on the yacht for the fast cutter from the western continent to dock at Eliyum's harbor before joining up with Killian.
Killian had been visibly startled by their sudden appearance, but upon seeing the Kingston ducal carriage waiting at the harbor to pick them up, he seemed to piece it together. It looked like Evril, who had been confined throughout the second semester at the Academia, had finally worn down the Ice Prince and secured her freedom. For what appeared to be complete freedom, she had even left her maids behind this trip, deeming them too cumbersome.
“With this sweltering weather, juice would be better than hot tea, wouldn't it?”
Shaylin signaled to a servant standing in one corner of the drawing room. The servant bowed politely and exited to prepare the juice.
“It's truly lavish. If you told me this drawing room alone was a chamber in the imperial palace, I'd believe it.”
Kylie marveled, taking in the room entirely gilded in gold. One wall of the high-ceilinged space opened into a long row of windows connected to the garden terrace, offering a clear view of the meticulously manicured gardens beyond. The walls and columns were gold-leafed, the lofty ceiling dominated by a golden fresco that flowed into ornate decorative borders, doors—all gilded. A carpet with intricate geometric patterns lay over the polished marble floor. Aside from the antique leather sofas on the carpet, nearly every furnishing and sculpture in the room gleamed gold.
The lavish drawing room held two long, antique leather sofas and four plush, inviting armchairs—plenty of seating for all. Shaylin, acting as the Duval host, sat first, followed by Evril and Kylie, then Olivier on the long sofa. Watching them settle, Killian took his seat last, ever the Ashton noble prioritizing the ladies.
“The Duvals certainly favor ostentatious decor.”
Killian added his own observation, glancing around the room. Among the group, only Evril kept her head slightly bowed, her expression somewhat shadowed, sitting in silence without a word.
Shaylin found it odd—Evril's usual reticence during casual greetings felt different today. Moments later, the servant returned with chilled orange juice, placing glasses on the table. The instant one was set before Evril, she grimaced, clapped a hand over her mouth, and urgently asked where the restroom was.
When Kylie stood to assist, Evril shook her head in refusal and hurried out the drawing room door. Kylie hesitated, then sat back down and turned to Killian with a smile playing on her lips.
“The Kingston ducal house will welcome a beautiful bride at the grand autumn wedding and soon cradle the long-awaited heir. At first, I thought it was just seasickness, but watching Lady Loren react sensitively to both scents and sights made it clear.”
“Then...”
Killian glanced toward the door Evril had exited, prompting Kylie to nod.
“Yes. Lady Loren is with child.”
At that, Killian rose with a faintly surprised expression and headed toward the door after his sister—a perfectly natural response for an Ashton noble and a concerned brother.
“...Joyous news.”
Shaylin forced a calm facade as she spoke, watching them go, then gulped down the orange juice on the table. Her chest felt tight and congested, a hot, blocked sensation rising within. The juice did nothing to ease it, so she turned to the servant by the wall and requested iced water.
Ice was rare and expensive, produced in small quantities by high-end artifacts even in wealthy homes, but the extravagant Duvals had it all—right down to large-scale ice facilities for entertaining guests.
“Lord Kingston will be the most thrilled to hear this. Rumors say he's had Lady Loren stay at the Kingston estate since last spring, checking on her constantly. For a man of his usual restraint to dote on his bride like that—it's so romantic, everyone's envied her.”
Kylie smiled faintly, recalling Gophrid's icy demeanor. She hadn't imagined the cool-headed man she'd crossed swords with for years would care for his fiancée so tenderly. He'd even generously lent the mana stone-devouring Kingston private yacht for this trip, with strict instructions to deliver Evril safely to Baron Loren.
“Y-yes, indeed. As an only child, Lord Kingston is known to be deeply attached to family.”
Shaylin hurriedly downed the iced water the servant brought, droplets beading on the glass. The deep-seated stuffiness persisted despite the brain-freeze chill.
“What are your plans for the rest of your holiday?”
To shift away from the awkward topic, Shaylin feigned interest with a serious expression, inquiring about Kylie's schedule. Kylie paused thoughtfully, glanced at Olivier beside Shaylin, then replied.
“I'll return home first to handle piled-up matters, then toward the end of the holiday, visit the Belpharos barony if time allows.”
“Oh, you're finally coming to our house?”
Olivier asked brightly, and Kylie smiled warmly at her.
“Yes. Toward summer's end, for a short stay. Personal interest aside, Baroness Belpharos invited me before.”
As she said personal interest, Kylie's gaze lingered low on Olivier, who blushed and dipped her head. Kylie flicked a glance at Shaylin—ever perceptive in relationships, she worried if the subtle mood had been noticed. Fortunately, Shaylin seemed absorbed, staring at the melting ice in her glass, lost in thought.
As silence settled around the table, Shaylin looked up.
“Oh dear, forgive me. I was lost in thought—please, don't mind me, carry on.”
She flashed a sociable smile at the pair. As their everyday chatter resumed, Shaylin beckoned the waiting servant. When he approached and bowed, she murmured instructions in a low voice. He bowed again and left the drawing room.
*
Killian waited at a bent corner of the hallway outside the first-floor ladies' restroom where Evril had gone. Learning of her pregnancy so abruptly left his emotions tangled and subtle. The thought of becoming an uncle made his heart flutter faintly.
Growing impatient as Evril showed no sign of emerging, he heard a high, lively female voice approaching from around the corner, accompanied by footsteps—two sets, it seemed.
“Emily, when are you taking your day off?”
At Emily, Killian froze and listened closely. Lady Belpharos had been with Shaylin, so her maid Emily was likely nearby.
A slightly lower but clear voice replied.
“Um, the day after tomorrow? With guests coming today and tomorrow, it'll be busy, so I'll rest then.”
Killian recognized it instantly—Emily's voice. The high voice continued.
“The day after? That's not a ball night. I'll be with the young miss the whole time, so I can't hang out together.”
“It's fine. I'll head out early morning, revisit the spots I went with the other maids, sightsee downtown, and wander around.”
“Alright, then stick to crowded main streets—no sketchy places. Even in that maid uniform, you're pretty enough; in everyday dress, you might attract unwanted attention. Eliyum's streets crawl with spoiled noble brats from across the continent.”
The woman spoke with concern.
“Yes.”
Unsatisfied with Emily's brief reply, the worried tone persisted.
“If anything happens, go to the constables.”
“Constables?”
“Yeah. The Ashton Empire's administration got tough under this emperor. Head to a station and ask a constable for help—most issues get resolved. It's all connected where administration reaches, so even if a suspect flees the city, if they're in Ashton territory, they'll be caught. Remember that, okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
The footsteps drew near. Rounding the corner, Killian came face-to-face with the two maids in uniform. His eyes met the tall one's transparent gray gaze.
Emily startled at the sight of Killian standing there. He gazed down at her with deep, unreadable dark brown eyes. For that brief instant their eyes locked, she couldn't move.
Suddenly, the yellow moonflower he'd sent flashed in her mind. Gathering courage, she met his stare. Her gray eyes held steady, met by his serene, deep dark brown ones.
Then, Laura beside her quickly bowed to Killian. Emily followed suit, dipping one knee slightly in greeting before passing him by.
Killian watched Emily's retreating back. Her short platinum hair still clung above her slender nape. Faintly, the sweet scent that once rose from that delicate neck resurfaced in memory. He recalled the soft touch of her skin against his nose.
I wonder if she received that book from last winter safely.
Just then, the restroom door opened, and a pale-faced Evril emerged slowly. Killian hurried to her side, supporting her arm and back. She moved as if drained of all strength.
“With your condition, can you even ride a carriage half a day tomorrow?”
Evril nodded weakly to his worried gaze.
“Since we're on the western continent, I want to see Grandma and Grandpa. I haven't since last winter.”
“You'll attend the autumn wedding anyway. No need to push yourself like this—your health...”
Killian coaxed gently, but Evril cut him off firmly.
“Enough. I want to see them.”
Feeling better, she shrugged off his support, straightened her back, and walked down the hall. Killian watched her silently.
Once she dug in her heels, Evril was unyielding. Grown into an elegant lady who seemed demure and obedient, inside she remained the stubborn little girl who'd defied her one-year-older brother on everything.
Killian turned toward the opposite hall where Emily had passed. It stood empty. He stared for a long moment before following.