"Grace."
Count Everard Evergrey called out his daughter's name.
Grace flinched slightly before turning to look at her father.
The Count sat with his usual composed expression, his grey eyes resting on her without showing much emotion. It was difficult to tell whether he was disappointed with her result or simply thinking about something else, and that uncertainty made Grace more nervous than a direct reprimand would have.
"You have done your best."
The Count spoke without raising his voice. He did not sound particularly pleased, but neither did he appear angry with her.
Beside him, Countess Henriette Evergrey nodded with a gentle smile.
She had been watching her daughter since the conversation began, and her expression remained warm as she tried to ease the tension in the room.
"Your luck was facing the child from Ashenlocke. You could say it was because she used a firearm that we knew nothing about."
