The warmth of the conservatory clung to Ilya long after she stepped into the brisk halls of Velwynd Keep. Morning light filtered through stained glass, scattering fragments of amber and rose along the marble floor. Her steps were quiet, deliberate, but her mind still hummed with the memory of Elias's voice.
Some things are worth the ache.
She'd said his name. Heard it in her own mouth like a secret passed between trusted hands. Elias. And the way he had looked at her—guarded but soft—had struck something beneath her ribs she hadn't expected.
He was not what she had feared. Not a monster. Not a tyrant. Something else entirely. Something real. She wondered what he looked like under that mask but found she cared less and less.
Still, she had no time to dwell. There were duties waiting.
She turned down a side hall and found Madam Therin Caelith already there, crisp and orderly as ever.
"Lady Ilya," the headmistress greeted. "Your father's house has sent a representative. He's waiting in the western salon."
Ilya stopped mid-step. The warmth drained from her fingers.
"Who?" she asked.
Madam Therin, to her credit, seemed to catch the sudden tension. She glanced down at the parchment in her hand.
"Toby Vaits. He arrived with a letter bearing the Count's seal."
Ilya's heart turned to ice.
She knew that name. Too well.
The servant who had always found reason to grab her wrist too tightly, to shove when no one was watching. The man who mocked her with false courtesy, always smiling when her mother entered the room. The one who would whisper, "Little mice don't cry out," with fingers clenched around her arm.
She forced herself to nod. "Thank you, Madam Caelith. I'll see him now."
The western salon was quiet when she entered. A low fire crackled in the hearth. The man beside it turned, his face aging and weathered, but those eyes were the same—small, sharp, amused.
"Well," Toby Vaits said, bowing with mock grace. "If it isn't Lady Mouse."
Ilya didn't flinch.
"Toby," she said evenly. "I expected my father to send a hound, not a rat."
He smirked. "Still got that clever little tongue, I see. Not much else has changed, has it?"
"Plenty has. You're no longer allowed to touch anything that belongs to me."
He stepped closer. "This place, this dress, this title... you think you earned it? You're a dressed-up mistake. Your mother should've drowned you at birth."
Ilya didn't back away. Her hands were steady at her sides. But the bile rose in her throat. The smell of him, the sound of that voice—it clawed at memories she'd buried beneath logic and duty.
"Leave, Toby. Deliver your message, or go."
He smiled wider. "Your father wants assurances. Proof that you're playing your part like a good girl."
She narrowed her eyes. "I am the Duchess of Velwynd now. I have nothing to prove to him."
Toby's face twisted. "You're still just the brat nobody wanted, Ilya. Don't forget who you were before he bought you a title."
He stepped forward suddenly, raising a hand.
The room shifted.
A hand closed around Toby's wrist like iron.
The man looked over his shoulder and saw a cold iron mask, empty of emotion. But his face paled at the eyes under it. They spoke of something he had only seen once before in his life.
Death.
The clatter of a cane falling to the floor could be heard as Elias dropped it, reaching up with his other hand to wrap it around the mans throat. With a strength that should not be possible, he lifted Toby off the ground with that one arm, causing Ilya's hands to cover her mouth.
The burns on Eli's body were glowing faintly- she would know instantly he must be feeling tremendous pain and yet he did not show any signs of halting movement. Instead, a muffled shout came from him that seemed to echo through the room.
"YOU DARE!? IN MY HOUSE!?"
He turned and threw toby bodily, his strength far beyond superhuman as the emissary's body flew through the air, smashing into the wall so hard it caved in slightly. Elias marched toward Toby smoothly, precisely- not a single glimpse of the limp that had been his calling card. No- he seemed perfect fine were in not for the patchy glowing under his clothes and mask.
When he reached the man who had riled his anger, he grabbed the gasping fool by the hair and pulled him to his feet only for him to be punched so hard teeth flew from his jaw. Toby grunted and stumbled before he turned and swung back but without missing a beat, Elias caught the punch at the wrist and pulled Toby into a harsh knee, the sound of cracking ribs echoing sickeningly through the place.
Soldiers rushed in. Three attempted to pull Elias off Toby, shouting things like "NO, YOUR GRACE PLEASE-" but the first one was flung off so hard he tumbled over the couch, armor and all. Eli grabbed the front of the bleeding mans shirt.
"SHE IS MY WIFE! YOU DARE TO TOUCH MY WIFE!?"
He backhanded Toby, breaking his nose…it was clear he intended to kill the man, as the soldiers struggled to pull him off. He punched him again, and again, both fists flying and the sound of cracking bone heard with each blow.
"Please….Elias…"
Her voice was soft, but it caused him to freeze. He dropped the limp and weezing man who was now deformed in the face from the beating, turning to Ilya. The soldiers slowly got between the Duke and the bleeding man as Elias moved over to Ilya, looking her over.
"Are you…okay?"
Ilya swallowed and nodded.
"Yes. How did you-?"
She looked to the door she had come through and saw the madam there, hands over her mouth. It was clear that she had fetched the master and told him that someone was here that scared her and he had come promptly. She turned her eyes to Toby and scowled.
"You will leave now and-"
Eli shook his head.
"No. No, he will be coming with me. Your father had something urgent to say…and now, I have an equally urgent reply."
Ilya's eyes widened. Not only had nobody defended her like that before but…now he intended to confront her stepfather?
She swallowed. This…could get bad very quickly.