Azael felt like all his hard work from yesterday was for nothing. Being the head maid, Isabel stayed at the palace for most of the days, only going to her house for short visits, and during Saturday and Sunday to sleep at her house.
Now Azael was in a dilemma. Did that mean he needed to forget his milf-looking maid? Her image came into his mind. Her strict face.
Her soft, smooth skin. Wearing those glasses made her look more professional. Her wide hips that swayed hypnotically. Her huge, round, soft-looking breasts. Each time he saw them, he wished to fondle them, dig his fingers into those soft flesh, and mold their shapes as he wanted.
"Hah... Well, since I started... I should just continue... maybe I can't get her heart... but her body?" A smile bloomed on Azael's face.
"Hehehe.. I guess I need to make some changes in my plan. Take it a little faster. Winning her heart will be damn hard," he resolved himself with a huge smile.
Okay. He was ready. Getting off from his bed, he strode toward the door of the chamber.
With a swift movement, he opened it.
He walked through the corridor. It was past noon. He didn't know much what he should do. Maybe just spend time with Isabel again.
Just then, a voice called him from behind.
"Azael." It was a familiar and authoritative voice.
He understood who it belonged to. He turned around to see that person.
There, standing just some distance away from him, was his stepmother, Aeliana. Looking as stunning as ever, her red eyes observed him.
"Come with me. I want to talk something with you," she said calmly.
Azael tilted his head. He grew curious. What might the Duchess want to talk with him about?
He straightened himself and nodded. "As you say, Mother. I will follow you."
So Azael quietly followed her.
The office of Duchess Aeliana was a grand chamber of quiet authority. Tall shelves lined the walls, filled with books. The scent of parchment and ink lingered in the air.
At the far end stood a broad desk, its surface filled with documents, quills, and half-sealed letters, the evidence of a woman who ruled through both intellect and diligence.
In one corner, a plush couch of deep emerald velvet offered a softer contrast to the room's scholarly surroundings. A small table beside it held a silver tray with a teapot and two cups, steam curling lazily upward.
Aeliana sat upon the couch with effortless grace, her posture regal yet inviting. Her gaze, sharp but not unkind, settled on the man standing before her.
She patted the seat beside her.
"Take a seat, Azael."
Azael nodded and sat beside her, keeping a good amount of distance between them.
Today, Aeliana was wearing a beautiful plain white gown. Simple yet exquisite white gown clung to her flawless figure like liquid silk. Though it was plain, on her, it looked breathtaking. Her massive, soft breasts were held by the confines of her gown perfectly, giving them a naturally attractive curved shape, which always drew Azael's attention.
Her blonde hair was left loose, flowing down. The ends of her hair were curled. Those sharp, predatory crimson eyes gleamed with power and something warmer, more dangerous, while her porcelain-pale skin glowed almost luminous under the afternoon light filtering through tall windows.
The teapot was filled with hot tea. She bent forward, causing her bosom to sway a little. She poured both Azael and herself cups of tea. She opened the jar containing sugar. She took one spoon of sugar for her cup. Her red eyes fell on Azael.
"How much?"
Azael blinked, taken aback that she was filling a teacup for him. It was not some grand gesture, but for some reason, it felt... out of place. She was a Duchess. Even this small task was usually done by maids for her. Yet here she was, pouring tea for him and asking him how much sugar he liked in it.
"Um... one spoon is enough," Azael replied, trying to sound as normal as possible.
Aeliana nodded and poured one spoon of sugar into his cup. Stirring it, she pushed the teacup near Azael.
He lifted the cup and brought it to his lips. He took small sips of it. Warm liquid flowed into his mouth.
Beside him, Aeliana also sipped her tea.
She exhaled softly. "The thing I wanted to talk to you about is... firstly, your health. Are you having any problems? I was busy with work and didn't get a chance to talk with you."
Her words brought a faint smile to Azael's face. He couldn't sense a parental—no, a maternal. Kind of love from her, nor the warmth that usually came with it. But that didn't mean she wasn't worried. Perhaps she didn't show her concern and affection the same way she did for Liana or Arista, yet Azael knew she cared. Maybe not as deeply as she did for her daughters, but she was trying, trying to be family for him. And for that, Azael felt a quiet happiness bloom within him.
He wasn't expecting familiar love, a mother or anything. He already had kind and nice parents in his past life, who truly cared about him and loved him. Honestly, because of that, he didn't need parental love.
"Thanks for worrying about me, Mother. But don't worry. I am perfectly fine. Also, Big Sister Arista is helping me a lot in training. She's taking good care of me." Azael's voice was soft.
She tilted her head cutely. "I did hear from Arista. She was praising you a lot, about how good your talent is for the sword and some other weapons. You are a late-blooming genius, it seems. You are doing a lot better than I expected. But don't neglect your health just because you are cured now." There was a faint, very small, and rare smile on her face.
Azael noticed it. But it was gone instantly as she advised him not to be negligent about his health. "Yes, Mother. I will be careful."