Serena finally let go of Veralyn's shoulders, then turned to me with a gaze that had shifted to something serious. A rare change for Serena Valenrose, and it was precisely because of that rarity that I knew the coming conversation was not going to be casual.
"Recci," she said. "We need to talk."
She glanced at Veralyn briefly, then looked back at me.
I understood.
"Vera," Serena said, her tone gentle once more, "rest for a bit. I want to speak with Recci in the garden."
Veralyn looked between the two of us for several seconds. I had no idea what was going through her head, but eventually she gave a slight nod without asking questions.
"Very well."
One word. No protest. No suspicion. Whether she was too exhausted to care or simply trusted Serena completely, I could not tell.
I walked toward the side door that led to the garden, and Serena followed. The garden was not large, just a small patch where I had planted a few medicinal herbs and wildflowers. In the center sat a small wooden table with two chairs, my usual spot for enjoying coffee in the morning.
This morning, the coffee would have to wait.
We sat facing each other. Serena leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms, and fixed me with those blue eyes that, for the first time today, held no cheerful gleam.
"Tell me," she said. "Everything. From the beginning."
I drew a quiet breath.
"How much have you already heard?" I asked.
"Only word of mouth," she replied. "That the engagement was annulled, that Vera attacked Alicia, and that someone redeemed her with a hundred gold coins." She tilted her head. "That last part was you, was it not?"
I did not answer directly. Instead, I leaned back in my chair and stared at the leaves swaying above our heads.
"The prince annulled the engagement in front of the entire hall," I said at last. "On the night of the graduation ceremony. Before hundreds of nobles."
Serena did not interrupt.
"He accused Veralyn of bullying Alicia. Insulting her, pressuring her, hurting her mentally. All of those accusations were thrown without evidence and without giving Veralyn a chance to defend herself."
"Typical," Serena murmured. Her tone was flat, but I could see her jaw tighten slightly.
"Veralyn lost control for a moment. A small flame appeared in her hand. A reflex, not a deliberate attack. The fire was no stronger than a candle. But the prince used that moment as grounds to issue a death sentence."
Serena went quiet.
"A death sentence," she repeated softly. "For a flame that small?"
"Yes."
A brief silence fell between us. The morning breeze drifted past, carrying the scent of the herbs planted along the edge of the garden.
"And her family?" Serena asked. Her voice was quieter now. "The Silvercrowns?"
I looked at her.
"No one moved. No one opened their mouth."
Serena's expression changed. Not to anger. Something deeper. Disappointment. The kind of disappointment that could only be felt by someone who understood how precious family was.
"They abandoned her," she said. Not a question.
"In front of the entire hall," I replied.
Serena closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, something had shifted in her gaze. Sharper. More focused.
"And then you stepped forward," she said.
"Someone had to."
"With a hundred gold coins."
"With the kingdom's law," I corrected. "The money was only a tool. The core of my argument was that Alicia had not yet become queen in the eyes of the law. She was still a queen-to-be. And the kingdom's criminal code states that a crime resulting in no loss of life may still be redeemed through compensation."
Serena stared at me for a long time.
"You had this planned from the start, did you not?" she said.
The right question. Far too right.
I maintained my calm expression. "I simply happened to know the kingdom's laws quite well."
Serena raised one eyebrow. "Recci."
"Hm?"
"I have known you since we were playing in the fields together. That serious face of yours does not work on me."
I fell silent.
The greatest problem with pretending to be a mysterious NPC was when someone had known you for far too long to be fooled.
"You prepared that money long before the ceremony," she continued. "You knew this was going to happen."
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. Several versions of an answer circled through my head, all of them plausible. But lying to Serena had never gone smoothly.
"Let us just say I had a very strong intuition," I answered at last.
Serena watched me for several seconds that felt impossibly long. I could see her mind working behind those blue eyes. Building theories. Constructing conclusions. Perhaps at this very moment she was adding yet another entry to her ever-growing list of theories about who Raymond really was. Perhaps now she thought I was a fortune teller from the northern continent, or a dragon in human form.
But as always, she did not press further.
Serena let out a long sigh, then stretched both arms above her head as though loosening her muscles.
"Well," she said, the serious tone evaporating as quickly as it had appeared, "at least Vera is safe. And she is here now. That is more than enough."
She rose from her chair and dusted off her skirt.
"By the way, have you had breakfast?" she asked, already walking back toward the house.
"I have. Veralyn cooked."
Serena's footsteps stopped.
She turned around with an expression I could not quite read. Somewhere between shocked, curious, and mildly horrified.
"Vera... cooked?"
"Yes."
"And you... ate it?"
"Yes."
"And you are still alive?"
I frowned. "Was it truly that bad?"
Serena looked at me with an expression of undisguised sympathy.
"Recci," she said softly, as though delivering news of a passing, "do you know why Vera always had servants at the academy dormitory?"
I shook my head.
"Because the last time she tried to cook at the academy, the kitchen nearly caught fire. Not because of magic. Purely because of her cooking skills."
I stared at her.
"You are serious?"
"Completely serious. Even the servants refused to teach her because they were afraid. A magical genius who can control the elements with perfect precision, yet cannot tell the difference between salt and sugar."
I thought back to the soup from this morning.
Suddenly, everything made sense.
When we walked back into the house, Veralyn was already sitting in the dining room chair with impeccable posture, reading a book she had taken from my small library. She raised her head when she heard our footsteps.
"I heard my name mentioned," she said flatly.
Serena immediately put on the widest smile I had ever seen.
"No, no! We were only talking about how delicious your breakfast was!"
The most transparent lie in the history of this world.
Veralyn looked at Serena, then looked at me.
I turned my face toward the window.
"I see," Veralyn said. Her voice remained even, but there was the thinnest pause before she continued. "In that case, I will cook lunch as well."
The color drained from Serena's face.
I cleared my throat loudly.
"Actually," I said quickly, "Serena has been wanting to cook in my kitchen for a while now. Is that not right, Serena?"
Serena looked at me, then at Veralyn, then back at me. In that fraction of a second, she grasped the situation with the speed of a businesswoman who was long accustomed to reading a room.
"That is right!" she exclaimed, her smile blooming once more. "I even brought ingredients from the city. Vera, just sit down and rest. Leave lunch to me!"
Veralyn looked between the two of us.
Her gaze said she knew something was being hidden.
But she said nothing. She simply gave a small nod, then returned to her book.
Serena sidled up to me and whispered very quietly.
"You owe me a box of chocolate."
"Consider it an investment in our continued survival," I whispered back.
Serena suppressed a laugh, then walked to the kitchen with a light step, humming softly to herself.
I settled back into my chair and took in the scene before me. Veralyn reading quietly on one side. Serena humming in the kitchen on the other. Morning sunlight streaming through the window, illuminating my small house that was usually so still.
I leaned back and allowed myself to enjoy the moment.
This house had never been this lively before.
And strangely, I did not mind.