A servant was dispatched soon after with a message requesting Julian join them for dinner at Marengrove Estate instead.
He arrived not long before supper.
The moment he entered, his gaze found Elaria almost instinctively.
Once—
That look alone would have unsettled her heartbeat.
Now she merely greeted him politely before returning her attention toward arranging Isolde’s seat more comfortably near the hearth.
Julian noticed.
Elaria could feel it.
But she did not allow herself to dwell upon it.
Dinner passed calmly at first.
Trade discussions.
Spring crossings.
Concerns regarding reopening western routes after winter strain.
Yet beneath it all, Elaria gradually became aware of Julian attempting repeatedly to draw her attention back toward himself.
Small remarks directed only partially toward her.
Questions unnecessary for public discussion.
Lingering pauses whenever conversation shifted.
At one point, while Elinor and Isolde discussed storage conditions near the eastern mills, Julian finally spoke quietly toward Elaria across the table.
“You seem different lately.”
Elaria lifted her gaze briefly.
“In what regard?”
“You no longer avoid silence.”
The observation might once have thrilled her.
Now it only made her tired.
“Perhaps silence is not always unpleasant.”
Julian watched her carefully.
As though attempting to locate something he no longer understood.
But before he could continue, Isolde shifted slightly beside Elinor, pressing a hand unconsciously against her side.
Elaria noticed immediately.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“You should rest after supper,” she said gently toward Isolde.
“I am well.”
“That was not convincing.”
A faint smile touched Isolde’s face.
Julian’s attention shifted between them quietly.
Something unreadable passed through his expression then.
Because Elaria no longer looked towards him first.
No longer waited unconsciously for his reactions.
No longer revolved around his presence.
For the first time in years—
She seemed entirely beyond his reach.
And perhaps what unsettled him most was that she had not done it cruelly.
Only naturally.
As though waking from something that no longer held power over her.
The rain worsened considerably by the time supper ended.
Elinor refused entirely to entertain further discussion.
“You are not returning to Harrowcliffe in this weather.”
Isolde accepted the decision without argument this time, exhaustion finally visible beneath her composure.
Julian stood near the entrance hall while servants prepared lamps.
“You truly intend to remain?” he asked softly toward Isolde.
“For one night,” she answered gently.
“It is reasonable.”
His gaze shifted briefly toward Elaria.
Waiting perhaps for some opening.
Some familiar softness.
Some private understanding that no longer existed.
But Elaria merely adjusted the shawl around Isolde’s shoulders carefully.
“The corridor near the northern rooms grows colder after rain,” she said. “I asked Selene to warm your chamber already.”
Julian watched her in silence.
Then finally nodded once.
“I will return in the morning.”
There was no reason for him to stay further.
No conversation left unfinished.
No invisible thread drawing Elaria towards him anymore.
And perhaps he understood that now.
He departed soon after for Harrowcliffe Estate alone.
Elaria watched only long enough to ensure the doors closed properly behind him.
Nothing more followed.
No ache.
No longing.
Only stillness.
And the realization frightened her more than pain once had.
Selene prepared Isolde’s chamber carefully.
Additional blankets.
Warm water.
Fresh herbs for the air.
Elaria checked everything herself before Isolde entered.
“You have become alarmingly responsible,” Isolde murmured softly as she sat near the bed.
Elaria adjusted one of the lamps downward.
“That sounds unpleasant.”
“It is not.”
There was gentle affection in Isolde’s voice.
The kind that had always existed there, whether Elaria deserved it or not.
“You have changed more than you realize.”
Elaria’s hands stilled briefly against the lamp.
For a moment, she could not answer.
Because Isolde said it so simply.
Without suspicion.
Without caution.
As though caring for Elaria had never once felt difficult.
The realization hurt quietly.
“I hope it is for the better,” Elaria said at last.
Isolde looked at her with soft certainty.
“It is.”
Nothing more.
No lecture.
No emotional speech.
Just truth spoken gently.
Elaria lowered the lamp flame slightly further.
“You should sleep.”
“And you should rest as well.”
“I will.”
Isolde smiled faintly, already exhausted enough that her eyes had begun closing between breaths.
Elaria waited until she settled properly before leaving the room quietly.
The corridors of Marengrove Estate were nearly silent now.
Rain echoed softly against the distant windows.
Somewhere downstairs, servants moved quietly through the final duties of the night.
Elaria returned slowly toward her chamber.
And for the first time in many years—
Her thoughts no longer followed Julian.
Instead, they lingered upon Isolde.
Upon kindness she had never fully understood.
Upon trust she had never deserved.
Upon affection given freely without demand for repayment.
She entered her room quietly and closed the door behind her.
The rain continued steadily beyond the windows.
And as Elaria stood alone within the silence, a painful truth finally settled fully within her heart.
For years, she had believed Julian was the center of everything she had lost.
Tonight, for the first time, she understood the truth.
It had never truly been Julian she envied.
It was Isolde herself.