POV: Sylas
Word Count: ~1,050
---
Today was the first day I stood behind her… as someone who served her, officially.
No more wandering halls. No more hidden glances from passing staff. No more guessing at my place.
From today, I belonged at Lady Seraphina Virellia's side.
The Duke had made the arrangement final.
I didn't know why. And I didn't ask.
But when the steward handed me the thin black band bearing the Virellia crest — the mark of a personal attendant — I accepted it with a bow and fastened it to my left cuff.
Not because I felt proud.
But because I didn't want to lose this place just yet.
---
The first task was simple: escort Lady Seraphina from her morning lessons to the garden.
I waited outside the door of her study as instructed. I arrived ten minutes early.
She arrived two minutes late.
Not because she forgot. I heard the tutor talking too long inside — something about posture and penmanship. Her voice was sharp, impatient.
Then the door opened.
And out she came — head high, face calm.
But her fingers were clutching the handle of her book a little too tightly.
She noticed me instantly.
"You're early," she said.
"You're late," I replied.
She blinked — startled — and then smiled just a little.
"Cheeky. That's new."
"It was factual."
She giggled under her breath. "Let's go."
---
We walked in silence through the upper corridors. She didn't speak. Neither did I.
At least, not until she said, "You walk too quietly. I didn't even hear your steps."
"That's how I was taught."
She looked at me with narrowed eyes. "By who?"
"I forget."
That was a lie. But I didn't owe the past to her. Not yet.
She didn't press.
She just nodded. "Fine. But it's a bit weird."
I said nothing.
"Not bad-weird," she added quickly. "Just… ghost-weird."
---
When we reached the garden, she sat on the marble bench and opened a thin book of poems. One of those ancient ones — too stiff for most children.
But she read it like she meant it.
I stood at her side, three steps behind, hands folded at my back.
A butterfly landed on the edge of her book. She stilled completely — watching it with bright, fascinated eyes.
"I read somewhere they only live for a few weeks," she said.
I glanced down at the insect. Pale wings. Silent.
"They do."
"Isn't that sad?"
I shook my head. "They don't know it's sad. They just… fly."
She looked up at me. "That's a very Sylas thing to say."
"…What does that mean?"
She shrugged, then grinned. "I haven't decided yet."
---
The gardener passed us a moment later and bowed deeply to her, then gave me a nod.
It was the first time someone in the estate had acknowledged me without contempt.
I wasn't sure what to do with that.
---
"Do you like working here?" she asked suddenly.
"It's quiet."
"That's not what I asked."
I paused. Then, "I like that I don't have to run anymore."
She watched me for a second.
"You ran before?"
"I walked fast."
Another lie.
She tilted her head. "You always talk like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're never really answering the question. Just... brushing the edge of it."
I turned my face slightly. "That keeps people from asking more."
She considered that.
Then looked back down at her book.
"You don't have to do that with me, you know."
Her voice was quiet now. Not childish. Not noble. Just… honest.
And somehow, it cut deeper than any sharp tongue in this house.
---
After a few more minutes, she stood. I moved to follow.
"We're going to the library," she said. "I want you to help me find something."
"Anything specific?"
She hesitated. "Something about stars."
"Navigation?"
"No. Stories. My mother says they're useless. But I like them."
I didn't respond.
But I did notice how she looked away after saying her mother's name.
I would remember that.
---
At the library, I reached for the high shelves while she sorted through titles below.
Once or twice, she hummed softly under her breath. Off-key. Sweet.
She wasn't graceful like the noblewomen in paintings. She tripped once while turning. Mumbled to herself when she forgot a word.
But she was trying. You could see it.
Trying to walk right. To talk like her tutors taught her. Trying to be composed.
And even in that effort… she was still just twelve.
---
When we returned to her chambers, she turned to me before entering.
I expected her to say, "You're dismissed."
But instead she asked, "Was I hard to follow today?"
"No."
"I thought I was talking too much."
"You weren't."
She hesitated.
"Do you think I act too old?"
I blinked. "No. You act like someone who knows they have to grow up."
She looked at me for a moment. Then said something I didn't expect.
"That's a Sylas answer too."
And this time, she smiled wider.
---
When the door closed behind her, I remained standing in the hallway for a long time.
The sun was starting to fall behind the western wing.
I could still hear her humming faintly through the door.
And in that quiet…
I realized something:
This job would be more dangerous than I thought.
Not because of the house.
Not because of her mother.
But because…
I might actually care.
---
End of Chapter