Chapter 613: The Baffled Elara.

The dining room was unusually quiet.

Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting warm rectangles across the long wooden table. Breakfast had been laid out with the usual care.

Fresh bread, fruit, eggs, and pots of steaming tea but no one seemed particularly interested in eating.

Ardyn sat at the head of the table, his fingers wrapped loosely around a cup he had not lifted. His gaze kept drifting across the table, landing on Thoren, then sliding to the woman seated beside him.

Serene sat opposite her husband, her posture composed, her expression carefully neutral. But her eyes followed the same path to her son and then to Fidelia, back to her son again.

As for Fidelia, she sat beside Thoren, wearing a simple dress bought for her by Thoren. Her hair had been brushed and pinned back, but a few stubborn strands still escaped.

She kept her eyes on her plate.

Fidelia felt their gazes like weights pressing down on her shoulders.

Ardyn’s calm, assessing stare.

Serene’s warm but knowing eyes. They were not hostile, however she knew that they were ’aware’ of everything.

Of the way she had emerged from Thoren’s wing of the estate. Of the faint marks still visible at the base of her throat that no amount of careful dressing could fully conceal.

Of the quiet intimacy in the way she and Thoren occupied the same space.

Of their small stunt by the balcony.

She wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow her whole. But the ground remained stubbornly solid beneath her feet.

So she did the only thing she could.

She focused on her plate with an intensity that bordered on absurd, cutting her eggs into smaller and smaller pieces, refusing to lift her head.

And frequently, she shot Thoren a fierce glare from beneath her lashes.

’How did I allow us to do it right at the balcony...’ She cried inwardly, a fresh wave of embarrassment crashing over her. ℯℯ𝑙.

She had always been a reserved woman.

Composed. Dignified. She had spent years cultivating an image of quiet of a capable awakener who kept her emotions in check and her desires locked away.

Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined herself throwing all of that aside to run wild with a man at a ’balcony’, of all places, where anyone could have seen.

’But...’ The thought crept in uninvited. ’The feeling was different from the night before.’

Her face flushed crimson as her mind turned treacherous and unstoppable, and began to replay the morning.

The way the cool air had brushed against her heated skin. The way the open sky had made everything feel more vivid, more exposed.

More importantly, the thrill of it.

’Why am I even thinking about it right now?’

She scolded herself furiously, stabbing a piece of egg with unnecessary force. But her mind refused to obey.

It kept drifting back to the slow, deliberate rhythm. To the warmth of his chest against her back.

To the soft morning light catching the flowers below as pleasure coiled and bloomed inside her. She shifted in her seat, pressing her thighs together beneath the table.

Thoren, beside her, continued eating as though the world were perfectly ordinary. But when his hand moved, reaching past her for the salt.

His fingers brushed lightly against her wrist. It was a brief, deliberate touch. Instantly Fidelia glare intensified.

He did not look at her, but the faintest smile curved at the corner of his mouth.

Seeing this, she wanted to scream.

Elara watched the exchange with sharp, curious eyes.

She looked at her parents first.

Ardyn’s carefully neutral expression and Serene’s barely concealed amusement and then at Fidelia, whose face was practically glowing red as she stabbed at her breakfast.

Finally, her gaze settled on her brother.

’What is going on with them?’

She was not a fool.

Something had happened yesterday.

Something that had turned the usually composed Fidelia into a flustered mess and her stoic brother into someone who almost ’almost’ looked smug.

But what?

Her mind raced through possibilities, each one more ridiculous than the last. Just as she opened her mouth to demand answers, the dining room door swung open and the butler stepped inside with a respectful bow.

"Young master, you have a visitor."

The atmosphere shifted instantly.

Thoren set down his utensils and rose from his chair in one fluid motion.

Whatever warmth had lingered in his expression cooled, replaced by the calm, assessing mask he always wore.

He turned to Fidelia. "Why don’t you come along."

It was not a question.

Fidelia blinked, caught off guard but reacted quickly. She pushed back her chair and stood.

"Of course," she said, grateful for any excuse to escape the table.

As for Thoren, he was already walking toward the door. Fidelia followed, her steps quick, her face still warm.

With them gone, Elara turned to her parents, her frown deepening.

"What is going on?"

She set her fork down with a clink, her gaze sharp as she demanded.

"I feel something is not right with my brother and Fidelia."

Serene and Ardyn exchanged a knowing glance.

A faint smirk played on Serene’s lips, subtle, but unmistakable.

Ardyn’s expression remained more guarded, but even he could not entirely hide the amusement flickering in his eyes.

"Whatever is happening," Serene said, lifting her teacup, "Is none of your business. Eat quickly and return to your study."

Elara’s jaw dropped.

"Why can’t you tell me what’s going on?" she protested, pouting. "I’m no longer a kid, you know?"

Serene raised an elegant brow.

"Really?" she scoffed, taking a slow sip of tea. "You are no longer a kid. Then you should already know what is going on."

Elara stared at her mother, utterly baffled.

What kind of answer was that?

She turned to her father, hoping for something more useful, but Ardyn’s stern face offered no reprieve.

He simply continued eating as though the conversation had nothing to do with him.

Left with no choice, Elara slumped back in her chair and focused her attention on her plate, directing her irritation at the helpless remnants of her breakfast.

’Fine,’ she thought darkly, stabbing a piece of fruit. ’Keep your secrets. I’ll figure it out myself.’