Perhaps she was too tired the previous day, perhaps she was even getting used to her soft bed and luxurious surroundings, but she had the most peaceful sleep she'd ever had in this world. She woke up feeling refreshed. Even Jane's careful ministrations on her, during her morning ablutions, and the doctor's clinical treatment and redressing of the bandages on her hands were calming for her. She went downstairs, ready to start a new day with a purpose.
Or so she thought.
The aroma of toasted bread and spiced tea hung warmly in the grand dining hall, where golden morning light slanted through the high windows. Footsteps echoed faintly across polished stone as she entered the dining hall, fingers unconsciously flexing in their bandages, her steps tentative.
Mary Jane blinked in confusion when she saw that her place setting had been moved.
Not to the far end of the table as usual — but neatly arranged beside the Earl's seat at the head. A second chair had been pulled forward, right beside him. Her own plate, cutlery, and even a folded napkin rested there, as if it had always belonged.
She stopped. "Is there… a guest?"
"No," came the Earl's calm voice from his seat. He didn't glance up from his tea. "Sit."
The word was calm and firm.
Jason beamed from his chair to the right. "Father said he will help you eat again!"
Mary Jane's lips twitched faintly. The uncertainty in her chest fluttered. "I see."
She sat slowly, acutely aware of the Earl reaching across the table — slicing a piece of toast and buttering it with precise movements. He placed it on her plate without ceremony.
"Eat," he said simply.
Her throat nervously bobbed. "Thank you."
His manner of speech was matter of fact, but she could sense kindness underneath his tone.
She took a deep breath. Perhaps because it was the second time that she sat too close to this big man that she was less uncomfortable as she was last night. She was thankful she could present an outward calm despite her inner turmoil.
Jason, oblivious to any tension in the air, chewed cheerfully and asked, "What will we do today, Mother?"
Mary Jane smiled at him, choosing her words carefully. "I'll be going back to the carpenter's workshop to check on our project. We're nearly done."
The Earl looked up sharply. "Absolutely not."
Her smile stiffened.
"You are not well enough," he added, gesturing briefly to her bandages. "You'll rest. You can instruct Garren from here, if you must."
"I'm not going to lift anything," she replied, voice light but firm. "I just want to see the final touches done. I made a promise."
"Are you refusing to be reasonable?" He asked, cool gaze locking with hers.
Jason frowned between them, sensing the shift in tone.
"I am being reasonable," Mary Jane replied with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Then, turning to Jason, she softened. "But your father is right about one thing—you need to attend your lessons."
Jason groaned. "But—!"
"No buts," Mary Jane said gently, placing a bandaged hand over his. "The sooner you finish, the sooner we can play again, alright?"
He slumped dramatically, but nodded. "Fine…"
Mary Jane looked at the Earl again, this time with polite restraint. "I'll be careful."
He didn't answer. But he didn't stop her, either.
He continued feeding her silently, yet gently and with patience. And once she declared herself full, he excused himself after reminding Jason to go to his lessons.
*****Two lives entwined; two paths equate*****
Back at the carpenter's workshop, she wanted to clap happily, if not for her bandaged hands. Seeing Garren successfully stacking all 54 pieces of small, smoothed out, wooden blocks together on top of his large worktable, Mary Jane felt like she just jumped such a large hurdle.
It looked like Garren continued the work on his own yesterday after her accident so that today, it didn't take much work at all to complete the finished product as she envisioned it. Of course, since Jason was busy with his lessons, he was not able to paint on the rest of the other blocks, but the ones he did paint on yesterday was sufficiently dried up today. Ready for showing to her prospective investor, she smiled.
She was teaching Garren on how to play the game when she heard the soft shuffle of skirts approaching the open door of the workshop. Jane, her ever-dutiful attendant, stepped inside, a hint of urgency in her expression.
"My lady, you have a visitor. His Grace, the Grand Duke, has just arrived. He's waiting in the drawing room."
My lady. Lady Whitman. She was now getting used to being called by these titles that she was starting to think of herself as Countess Bettina, her original name getting a bit distant in her mind. I must not forget who I am, she reminded herself.
"Very good," she replied. Yes, she sent a message to the duke yesterday and promptly received a response. She was expecting the duke to arrive today.
With a playful wink at Garren, Lady Whitman gestured toward the door. "Shall we show him our masterpiece?"
Unable to help himself, the carpenter's mouth twitched into a gruff smile and picked up the wooden blocks, following the countess out to head to the drawing room.
As she entered the drawing room, followed by Jane and Garren, she found the Grand Duke already lounging comfortably on the settee, dressed in an impeccably tailored coat of deep navy, trimmed with gold, and sipping on a cup of tea. He looked up at her arrival, a slow, knowing smile curving his lips.
"Countess Whitman," he said, putting down the cup of tea, he rose and gave her a respectful bow that was perhaps a shade more dramatic than necessary, "as promised, I've come to inspect your little marvel. Is it ready to dazzle?"
She chuckled lightly. "It's not quite ready to dazzle, Your Grace, but it may amuse."
His gaze drifted to her hands, eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of thick bandages.
"You injured yourself?" he asked, crossing the room in a few quick strides and carefully holding her hand. "That was certainly not part of our arrangement."
"An unfortunate consequence of trying to bring an idea to life," she said wryly. "Turns out woodworking is more dangerous than it looks."
He clicked his tongue and looked at her bandages as if affronted on her behalf. "I could arrange for someone to help. One of my staff mages specializes in charms and elemental magic — I'll send you one of his healing salves."
Mary Jane blinked, a little stunned at the offer. "That would… actually be appreciated, if it's not too much trouble."
"Not at all," the Grand Duke said with a nonchalant wave. "Think of it as an investment. A sound return on a promising venture."
Mary Jane smiled, the warmth in her cheeks real this time. "Grand Duke Chambers—"
"Edward."
"Sorry?"
"Please call me Edward," the Grand Duke explained. "As we are to be seeing each other more frequently due to this venture, it would be easier if we dispense with any and all kinds of formalities. So, I hope you would agree to us calling each other by our first names."
"Oh, well, sure. Alright," she agreed. It was okay with her since she'd always felt it a mouthful saying these peoples' titles and all. In addition, Grand Duke Chambers had always been friendly and non-threatening to her.
"Excellent."
"Anyway, as I was saying," she continued. "This is Garren, our carpenter. He was the one who helped me with the prototype."
"Good afternoon, your grace."
Garren bowed to the Grand Duke even while carrying a large wooden tray filled with nearly completed wooden blocks — perfectly smooth rectangular pieces, some already painted in cheerful colors, others still bare.
"Hello, Mister Garren. I'd love to see it."
Mary Jane instructed for Jane to clear coffee table.
"Is it supposed to be half painted and half not?" Duke Chambers looked curiously at her.
"Jason masterfully painted some pieces yesterday," she proudly added. "I wanted to show you that we have the option of selling them in a variety of colors—either painted, varnished, or just keep them in the wood's natural colors."
The duke nodded thoughtfully. "So, how do we use this toy?"
"It's a simple game," she explained as Jane cleared the coffee table, "but strangely addictive. You stack these blocks in layers of three, alternating directions just like how Garren arranged it, and then players take turns removing a piece and placing it on top."
The Grand Duke's brows lifted. "You expect noble children to play games of unstable architecture?"
"Wait until you try it," she said with a sly grin. "You'll be surprised how competitive it gets."
As she instructed him, using only the edges of her fingers to point, the tower was assembled.
The Grand Duke reached for a piece with exaggerated caution, drawing it out like it was a precious gem. "Like this?"
Mary Jane stifled a laugh. "Yes, now place it on top."
He did so, triumphantly. "Your move."
At that moment, the door creaked and Jason peeked in, eyes lighting up when he saw the setup.
"Are you playing already?" he cried, running over. "Can I join?"
"Of course," Mary Jane said, scooting over slightly to make room. "This game needs a third."
Jason climbed onto the carpet beside them, enthusiasm practically radiating off him. Soon, giggles filled the room as the tower grew taller, wobblier, and far more precarious.
Mary Jane laughed out loud as the grand duke made a dramatic dive to catch a falling block. Jason clapped like it was the grand finale of a theater play. They were sprawled around the low table — one noblewoman with bandaged hands, a boy with bright eyes, and a Grand Duke in full regalia, all on their knees, all focused on a teetering pile of wood.
It was into this wholesome, domestic tableau that The Right Honorable Earl Anthony Whitman stepped in.
Anthony paused at the threshold, utterly still.
He was striding down the hall earlier, fastening the last button of his coat as he prepared to leave for his business affairs. His mind was already occupied with matters at the docks, as well as thoughts of agendas to be discussed in their upcoming meeting, when a hushed conversation drifted from the nearby corridor.
"Did you see the Grand Duke's carriage?" whispered one of the maids.
"I did!" Another replied, her voice tinged with awe. "Why would His Grace visit the countess so suddenly? Weren't they at odds before?"
"I don't know," the first maid murmured. "Lady Whitman never spoke kindly of him before, and now they're having tea like old friends? It's strange, don't you think?"
At those words, he halted mid-step, fingers tightening over his gloves. The Grand Duke? Here? He hadn't heard of any planned meetings. The very idea of the duke and Lady Whitman forming an amiable connection set a sharp edge against his thoughts. As far as he knew, there had been no love lost between those two—only cold indifference and veiled hostility. And yet, the staff gossiped about them as if they had become sudden confidants.
With a controlled breath, he changed course, moving toward the drawing room instead of the front doors. If the Grand Duke had business with Lady Whitman, then he would see for himself what manner of arrangement they were crafting.
The doors to the drawing room were slightly ajar, allowing him a glimpse inside. What he saw made him grit his teeth reflexively.
And when the laughing Countess wrapped her arms around Chambers to prevent him from falling headfirst onto the coffee table, that's when he strode in.
His gaze swept across the room, taking in the sight: his son beaming with laughter, the Grand Duke looking far too comfortable, and his wife — no, the countess — flushed and smiling as if she belonged in this world.
If he hadn't known them, he would have thought those three were a family.
Jason turned and spotted him. "Father! Come see! Mother's toy is finished!"
The countess's smile faltered, eyes flicking to him.
Anthony's face was unreadable.
"I see," he said, voice low. He walked forward slowly, each step measured.
The Grand Duke, ever attuned to atmosphere, gracefully rose and dusted off his knees. "Whitman. You're just in time to witness the collapse of a very fine engineering experiment."
"Your grace," Anthony held out his hand in greeting, which the grand duke jovially shook. "I wasn't informed you'd be visiting today."
"Ah, you'll have to pardon me, Whitman. When one stumbles across brilliance at a toy shop, it's hard to stay away."
Anthony's eyes settled on Bettina's bandaged hands, and his jaw tightened. "She injured herself making this?"
"Don't worry," the Duke said smoothly, "I've offered a solution. A little magic-infused salve ought to restore her hands in no time. I've already sent for some and it should arrive early tonight."
Jason jumped up again. "Father, can she sit next to me tonight for dinner again? Please?"
Anthony didn't answer immediately. His eyes lingered on the tower, then on his son, then — too long — on the countess.
"…If she wishes."
Mary Jane gave a small nod, grateful to Jason for softening the tension.
As the Grand Duke bid farewell, promising to send her the salve he talked about and to return the next day, Anthony remained behind, still silent.
"Do you find this amusing?" he asked, gesturing to the game once they were alone.
Mary Jane met his gaze. "I find it… comforting."
He didn't reply. But as he turned to leave, he gave the tower one last look.
It fell behind him with a loud clatter.
And Jason shouted, "I win!"
*****From sorrow's depths, from death's embrace*****
Dinner that night was a much less uncomfortable affair for Mary Jane. Maybe because she was getting used to the Earl feeding her, although she couldn't help but notice the incredulous looks of the servants being thrown her way. However, as long as she didn't look directly at the Earl, her heartbeat had no danger of beating out of her chest.
She wanted to close her eyes and just let the Earl feed her that way, but the man ordered her to quit it in his 'lord of the manor' way.
"Open your eyes." He ordered her curtly.
Jason's presence was a great help in further easing her tension. And, as usual, the Earl left immediately again after feeding her.
True to his word, the Grand Duke did send her a small porcelain jar of salve that was, according to Jane who brought it over to her, infused with a healing charm.
The small jar was delivered in the early evening, nestled in a velvet-lined wooden box sealed with the Grand Duke's crest. Inside, the salve shimmered faintly under the light of her bedroom chandelier — a soft, pearlescent silver with a gentle herbal aroma that tingled at the edge of her nose. It smelled faintly of eucalyptus and mint, but there was something else too — something ancient and unfamiliar that made her fingertips tingle just hovering over it.
Mary Jane hesitated only a moment before dipping one, unbandaged finger in. The ointment was cool and silky to the touch, melting instantly on contact with her skin. As Jane carefully unwrapped the bandages, revealing the red, raw abrasions beneath, Mary Jane winced. But the moment the salve touched her injuries, the sting dulled — not vanished, but soothed, as if wrapped in a warm fog.
Before their eyes, the angry red skin began to calm. The worst of the abrasions tightened slightly, as if gently knitting from the inside. And though the skin remained tender, shallow scabs formed over the surface — thin, golden-edged, and unlike any natural healing she'd ever seen.
Jane murmured a quiet prayer, clearly unnerved, while Mary Jane flexed her fingers slightly.
"It still aches a little," she said softly, surprised by her own voice. "But it feels… like it's already halfway through healing."
"That's not just salve," Jane muttered, peering into the jar with narrowed eyes. "That's magic."
Mary Jane smiled faintly. "Courtesy of the Grand Duke."
She was gratified to see that she would be able to continue working on her project, as well as sketch down her plans for other future projects, with her hands this better already.
But the best part of the day for her was when Jason was allowed to read her a bedtime story and tuck her to sleep before going back to his own bedroom, Nanny Jones always in tow.
Mary Jane sat up in bed, her hands no longer bandaged, resting on a small cushion that Nanny Jones had insisted she use. Jason bounced beside her, book in hand, his legs tucked under him like a proper little gentleman.
"Are you sure you're ready, sir storyteller?" she teased softly, smiling despite the slight throb in her palms.
Jason nodded solemnly, the tip of his tongue poking out in concentration as he opened the book to the page with the golden ribbon. "This is my favorite book in the whole world."
Mary Jane leaned back into the pillows, feigning seriousness. "Well then, I'm honored. I hope the story is a good one."
"It's one with the fox who wears boots and steals pies." Jason whispered, proudly.
She laughed, the sound light and warm, and Jason began reading, his small voice clear and full of delight as he brought the mischievous fox to life. Now and then, he glanced at her to see if she was smiling, and she always was.
As the tale wound toward its happy ending, his voice grew slower, softer. The book lowered slightly in his hands, and when Mary Jane peeked, she found his head gently resting against her shoulder, the book half-closed.
She didn't move.
Instead, she turned slightly to kiss the top of his head, careful not to wake him. "Thank you, my brave little cub," she whispered.
And for the first time in a long while, the quiet at bedtime didn't feel lonely nor scary at all.
*****Rise anew, take her place*****
The scent of aged paper and beeswax polish on wood lingered in the Crown Prince's study, a sanctuary tucked behind a long corridor guarded by men who never spoke. Shelves cradled tomes bound in dragon-hide and old royal decrees, but tonight, the only words that mattered were those whispered across a thick walnut desk inlaid with gold.
"I've made progress," the Grand Duke said, his voice low but steady. He wore no formal sash tonight—only a dark traveling coat, its collar dusted from the road. "Access to the Wolf's manor is almost secured."
The Crown Prince, seated behind a desk cluttered with scrolls, sat up slightly. The lamplight caught the sharp angle of his jaw, his golden signet ring tapping once against a ceramic ink pot. "Through our Diamond?"
"A chance meeting at a toy shop, contrived of course, though our Diamond did not know it." The Grand Duke confirmed with the smallest smirk. "She extended the invitation herself. It seems our Diamond has unknowingly turned her sparkle outward."
"Good." The Crown Prince leaned back, nodding slowly. "But be cautious. The Wolf may be retired, but he still is a respected alpha in the pack—one who is highly regarded in our empire as a war hero."
There was a short pause—one thick with unspoken weight.
The Grand Duke's expression cooled, though he nodded earnestly at the prince's reminder. "One of our informants in the southern branch of the Company went silent yesterday."
"Which one?
"Junas." The word was like a dropped coin in a crypt.
The Crown Prince's brows furrowed. "He was scheduled to send his full report by dawn."
"He never arrived. Nor did his message." The duke's voice dropped a shade darker. "We may be dealing with more than just smugglers."
For a beat, neither man spoke. Outside, the wind brushed across stone columns, whispering secrets to the moon.
Then, with the sound of soft leather against wood, the Grand Duke reached into his coat and placed a stack of folded papers onto the desk. "Shipping manifests. Three, possibly four unregistered cargo entries from the east docks. All cleared under falsified merchant guild stamps."
The prince opened the pages and scanned the faded ink. "Dates?"
"Two days after the Diamond arrived at the Wolf's den," the Grand Duke said pointedly. "I believe it's connected."
The Crown Prince's jaw tensed. "This confirms the corruption runs deeper…and even longer ths reminders reminderan we estimated."
"It's only a taste," the duke warned. "We still need a trail—names, locations, warehouse access. This is groundwork."
Crown Prince Alaric nodded once, slow and deliberate. "Then let's start building the ladder. Quietly. I'll authorize you to probe deeper—officially, you're overseeing estate diversification policies."
"And unofficially?"
"You're my scalpel," the Crown Prince said, eyes locked with his cousin's. "We won't survive a frontal assault. But if we peel away the rot layer by layer…"
"…the Wolf won't even realize his den is caving in."
They shared a quiet, grim smile.
Then the Prince folded the documents with care, slid them into a small drawer, and turned the key. "And our Diamond?"
The Grand Duke leaned back, contemplative. "Naïve, but sharp. She notices things no one else bothers to question. With the right direction, she might start poking around. And if that happens, she might end up being more useful to us than she knows."
"Or a target."
The Grand Duke's gaze narrowed. "I'll make sure it's not the latter."