Chapter 13

By the time Iberin and Ether finished playing in the bath and came out, the sun was already going down.

It was still too early to put him to bed, but too awkward a time to start anything new either.

"Would you like dinner?"

"It's ready?"

"Yes."

Right on cue, Tami announced that dinner was ready.

"I'm hungry, Mommyyy."

He'd had a lot going on after lunch—it made sense he'd be starving.

Iberin took Ether's hand without a word and headed for the dining hall.

She'd already heard the word Mommy about a hundred times in the bath—the first time had been the hardest, but now that it was out, Ether tacked Mommy onto every other sentence.

How long must he have been wanting to say it.

It broke her heart and melted it at the same time, and she made sure to react every single time he said it.

"Is my little son hungry?"

"Yes. But Ether can wait a widdle bit!"

"Aww, that's my brave boy."

She'd been calling him by his name, but it occurred to her that since they were mom and son, calling him son or my boy might be nice—so she tried it.

The kid loved it.

"I'm a bave boy?"

"Mhm, Mommy's brave boy."

"Hehe."

He kept double-checking with little am I really your son? glances every chance he got.

Chatting away happily, they reached the dining hall, and the smell of good food drifted out to meet them.

"Whoaa!"

The second Ether saw the spread, he bounced on his feet, beaming.

Iberin settled him into his chair and started the meal.

The bouncy kid from a second ago was gone—he picked up his fork and knife with perfect composure.

He used them flawlessly, just the way Rotte had taught him.

"Looks like my son's got a lot of favorites here."

"Yep. Ether has lots of favorites. I weally like this. Mommy likes this too, right?"

Now that he was eating things besides the brown bread, Ether had developed clear likes and dislikes.

His absolute favorite was roasted tomato with sauce and cheese.

Not that there was much he wouldn't eat, honestly.

---

After dinner, Ether said he wanted to do his lessons and went back to his room.

Ether loved learning, and study time was the one window when he'd actually peel himself off her without a fuss.

She always sent him off with a soft smile, marveling at what a kid he was.

Only after Ether had disappeared into his room did Iberin turn to Rotte.

"Where's the Grand Duke?"

"He went back to the east wing."

"What? He looked like he had something to say to me."

She'd kept it under wraps with Ether around, but she'd been on edge the whole time, waiting for Lyssel to show up again.

Her face must've fallen, because Rotte let out a quiet snort.

"What. Why are you laughing?"

"You said you weren't interested, but I think you actually were."

"……"

"His Highness asked me to pass something along. From now on, he's leaving the finances entirely in your hands, Lady Iberin."

"What?"

"He even signed off on it."

Rotte handed over a paper bearing Lyssel's signature.

The same man who'd accused her of being after money the other day.

Either way, handing the money to Lyssel would be like handing a fish to a cat, so she pocketed it quietly.

"That was the only message?"

"Beats me. That's the only thing he said."

"I see…"

She'd been hoping for a little something more, and her shoulders sagged. She'd backed off way too easily that day after all.

If she was going to draw the sword, she should've kept swinging until she actually cut something—but she'd retreated way too fast.

Lyssel had looked so uncomfortable that she'd felt like she was forcing herself on him.

"Rotte."

"Yes."

"How did the Grand Duke seem today? Didn't it kind of look like he was paying attention to me?"

There had definitely been something different about him today. She wondered if Rotte had picked up on it too, and Rotte gave a level nod.

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Honestly, His Highness isn't used to being around people."

He spent every day holed up alone in the east wing with strict orders not to be disturbed—there was no way he'd be comfortable around anyone.

"Which is probably why he can only push you away. He doesn't know how to reach out first either."

"Because he's never had to?"

"Yes."

"Also…"

Iberin had no way of knowing, but Rotte had seen it when she went to fetch him.

The moment Rotte told him nobles had shown up causing trouble and that Iberin had gone out to face them alone, Lyssel had jumped to his feet.

When Rotte's surprise must've shown on her face, he'd cleared his throat, pretending nothing was off, and picked up his pace as he walked out.

Maybe Iberin's magic had reached the Grand Duke after all, Rotte thought.

"Also?"

"Mm, never mind. It's nothing."

Rotte smiled faintly but had no intention of spelling it out for Iberin.

{She wanted to keep it as her own small secret as an old woman.}(#22eayi4ejd7e)

"What! Now I want to know!"

Iberin had no idea what was going on in Rotte's head and narrowed her eyes.

She was pretty sure there was something she was missing, but Rotte just chuckled and kept on smiling.

"In any case, I have faith in you, Lady Iberin."

Then, out of nowhere, Rotte declared her faith.

"Faith in what?"

"That you'll be the light of the Lecashe family."

"You really say that kind of thing with a straight face, huh. Light, my foot…"

Iberin shook her head.

She hadn't felt any sign of trouble in this body yet, but she hadn't forgotten.

"I just want to live long enough to see Ether get a little bigger."

That this body was going to die someday.

Everyone died, sure, but hers would come sooner than most.

She'd already been handed a terminal diagnosis.

Rotte made a flustered little sound, like she'd actually forgotten Iberin didn't have long, and her brow knitted.

"What. You forgot?"

"You just seem so… healthy."

"I don't actually feel sick anywhere. Was I always like this?"

Rotte remembered the old Iberin—sharp-tempered, on edge all the time.

But was that because she was sick? Honestly, not really.

She'd always just been that kind of person.

That said, she hadn't not been sick either.

Now that Rotte thought about it, the old Iberin had been laid up with one ailment or another every single month—how had she forgotten?

And when Iberin was sick, she'd get even more on-edge and lash out. Couldn't handle her own pain and took it out on everyone was probably the more accurate way to put it.

Even the doctor hadn't been able to pin down what was actually wrong, so they'd called it incurable.

But Iberin had always blamed Lyssel. She hated him with everything in her, convinced his curse was what had done this to her.

"Why're you looking at me like that?"

"I'll pay closer attention to your health from now on, Lady Iberin."

"Yeah, sure."

Iberin laughed it off as if it didn't matter.

Rotte trusted her own gut, and she trusted it hard.

Iberin might've waved off the light thing with a laugh, but it was going to be true. All the more reason she needed to look after her health.

---

Iberin went to find Lyssel.

Rotte had said he just wasn't used to being around people, but Iberin had still half-expected to get the door slammed in her face. Instead, Lyssel said nothing.

"I didn't come here for no reason."

She said it under his unblinking stare.

"What is it."

Either way, the only way to keep Lyssel involved—publicly or privately—was to keep finding excuses to be around him. That seemed like the only path to him eventually warming up to Ether too.

Until now, she'd been telling herself fine, if we don't get close, we don't get close—but after what Rotte said, her resolve had softened again.

Sure, she worried about getting attached and ending up hurt later, but just standing back and watching felt like the kind of thing that would haunt her when her time came.

Regret either way—so why not try? That was her motto.

"You handed me full authority over the finances, right?"

"Yes."

"But I'm worried the nobles will come back to make a scene."

"I'll send them packing."

"No, then they'll just talk me down."

And then you and I won't have many reasons to see each other either.

"You care about reputation?"

The Lecashe reputation was already in the gutter—

The unspoken jab landed, but Iberin just wagged her index finger.

"No, I mean we need to hit them with facts, not force. That's how you make sure they don't get cocky again."

"…Facts…?"

"Like, verifiable evidence."

They'd been bleeding Lecashe dry over a couple of monster sightings, brazen as anything.

Their whole case was the damage was huge, so Iberin had come up with a plan that would both let her stick to Lyssel like glue and knock the nobles down a peg.

"How?"

"We just go in person."

"What?"

"And stomp them flat."

Lyssel asked it back, startled, but Iberin just gave a dark little heh heh heh.

---

Rotte pushed back hard—a woman in poor health didn't just gallivant off to other territories—but Iberin's mind was set and there was no moving her.

Then Rotte insisted on coming along no matter what, but if both the lord and lady left, somebody had to hold down the estate.

Iberin assigned that to Rotte. The woman wasn't young, and long trips weren't going to do her any favors either.

"I'm not saying we're leaving right now."

Honestly, she wanted to leave right now, but the baron and the butler were both due to arrive.

The butler was one thing, but a guest from the capital—Ether's tutor, no less—was coming, and bolting the second he showed up wasn't going to look great.

Rotte let out a long, heavy sigh.

"What did His Highness say? Did he agree?"

"Yep, he agreed."

She wasn't lying.

He'd looked a bit thrown, but Lyssel hadn't said no.

He hadn't said yes either, technically.

He'd even asked her to repeat it, then just said understood.

She would've loved to take Ether along, but it wasn't a feel-good trip, more of a get in there and wreck them trip, so he might end up seeing things he shouldn't.

"Then take the physician with you."

"I told you, we're not going right now."

"Whenever."

"What if Ether gets hurt or sick?"

"We'll look after him…"

If she shot this down too, Rotte looked ready to lie down across the doorway, so Iberin reluctantly nodded.

That was when—

"My lady! Someone's arrived from the capital!"

The timing couldn't have been better—the people they'd been waiting for were apparently here.

Iberin's whole face brightened, and she slipped past Rotte to chase after the servant who'd brought the news.

"So who came?"

"Butler Pons."

"Oh."

Right—Pons had been on his way for a while now.

She picked up Ether on the way, and when they got to the front to greet him, she saw a man well along in years.

The moment he saw Iberin, he bowed politely.

"Pons Loyetti, at your service. Madam."

"Welcome. We'll be sharing the highs and lows under this roof from now on, so let's get along."

"Yes."

But that was as far as it went. There was something stiff about him—just a little off.