Rayyan tiredly climbed into bed, fatigued by the all the events of the day. Sunset had just started but she was more than happy to fall asleep that moment, if it would be allowed.

Vira was in her rooms, working off her energy by cleaning everything in sight. The young maid seemed to be talking to herself, but Rayyan was too tired to try and distinguish her words.

“Vira, I think everything’s been cleaned. Maybe it’s time for you to take a break?” Rayyan helpfully suggested, hoping she would take the hint.

“Just a little more, Lady Consort!” Vira quipped, wiping the sweat off her brow as she washed the windows. “Your father’s aide, young Alan, told me your father has tasked me with ensuring your utmost comfort. The state of your room’s is not ideal for a pregnant woman. Mother always said everything must be especially clean during these times!”

Rayyan’s heart warmed at the diligent efforts, and she gave up on attempting to stop the older woman. Despite the bustle of noise around her, the feeling of clean sheets and the gentle warmth of the fire began to lull her to sleep. Her eyes gently began to shut, but the sound of whispering continued to grow, and she tossed relentlessly as it became the focus of her attention.

“Vira…”

“Yes, Lady Consort?”

“Do you mind being a bit quieter?”

“Oh, my apologies! I shall do so!”

Satisfied, Rayyan turned on her side, pulling her blankets closer. Warmth enveloped her again, and she focused on lulling herself back to sleep. However, the consistent whispering prevented her from falling asleep. She sat up irritably.

“Vira, please – no more whispering!”

Vira stopped, feeling unjustly accused. “Lady Consort, I haven’t been whispering!”

The two stared at one another, not taking a breath. There was silence for a moment, both occupants not making a sound. Another beat later, quiet whispering sounded again, this time discernibly coming from the door. Rayyan furrowed her brows, staring at Vira. The maid cluelessly looked back, rag still in hand. They both turned towards the closed door, where the noise originated from.

Rayyan got out of bed, grabbing a robe to pull over the nightwear she had changed too. Both of them inched towards the door, hearing barely distinguishable words.

“…pleasure…serve…Lady…”

“-name… -brose…pleasure…”

The young maid clutched the rag, wringing it nervously as she watched the Lady Consort grasp the door handle. Door swinging open to the hallway, they were met with the sight of…

A backside?

A young gentleman was facing away from them, postured in a deep bow. He seemed to have not noticed their presence, mumbling to himself.

“Hmm … was that perhaps too gallant? Maybe I should be a bit more regal…”

Rayyan coughed lightly to get his attention. The figure noticeably froze, mechanically straightening up. He paused beat, embarrassedly turning around.

The three occupants in the hallway stared at one another, when the unknown man suddenly sprung forward.

Vira squeaked as he energetically bowed deeply, arm crossed over his chest.

“Lady Consort!” he began valiantly, “It is my pleasure to be acquainted with you! I am Sir Ambrose, son of Count Torin! I have been tasked with the absolute duty – nay honour, of serving you as head butler from this moment forward until all of absolute eternity! I pledge to serve you till my last dying breath, or may my family be cursed to five generations!”

Stolen novel; please report.

Rayyan nervously stepped back, laughing awkwardly – unsure of how to take in the … eccentric man in front of her. Seeing him remain in the deep bow, she prompted him up.

“Ah… thank you… Sir Ambrose. Please, rise.”

He snapped upwards and smiled broadly.

She assessed the man before her. While tall, he was actually a full head shorter than Vira – though granted, her companion was one of the tallest females she had seen around the palace. Ambrose sported a clean military haircut, his sides close shaven and longer hair atop his head that was cleanly spiked with pomade. There was not a hair out on place on his brunette head, and not a hair to be found on his face – sporting a clean-shaven look. Rayyan jealously assessed that even his eyebrows were perfectly shaped. Cinnamon brown eyes twinkled happily atop a slightly crooked – possibly once broken – nose, thin lips spread wide to show a pearly white smile against olive coloured skin.

As dashing as he was, what caught her eye out of everything was the empty left sleeve, neatly folded and pinned. Ambrose noticed her gaze on his left arm, or rather lack thereof, and his smile faltered.

“His majesty was the one who sent me over to serve you, Lady Consort. However, his majesty said that the decision ultimately is yours,” he explained, smile taking on a stiff form.

The unspoken message hung between them. Vira frowned slightly, glancing between the pregnant Lady Consort and the disabled Sir Ambrose.

Maybe her ladyship is not as favoured as one would think? Afterall, why would his majesty send a disabled man to serve her?

Her gaze must have reflected her thoughts, Ambrose’s eyes dimming as he surmised her thoughts. Keeping the smile on his face, he awaited his rejection.

“Alright,” Rayyan conceded calmly, smiling at him. “I look forward to working with you, Sir Ambrose.”

“Ah?”

He blinked at her blankly, expression going lax.

“However, I am quite tired today. Let us meet tomorrow morning, and get acquainted?”

The question snapped him out of his daze, and he excitedly nodded.

“Of course, Lady Consort! Please rest well.”

She quietly bid him goodbye, shutting the door gently behind her.

----------------------------------------

Lennox Dillon thoughtfully walked down the hallway of the central palace, ignoring Alan’s nervous energy. Really, he had to do something about the young lad’s nerves. He was more jittery than that a newly married bride on her wedding night.

The meeting with Sir Lenin replayed in his head, and he hoped there would be results after the tense standoff.

“How long has she been with child, Sir Lenin?” he had questioned calmly, watching as the Emperor’s right-hand man methodically cleaned his glasses.

“The royal physician will advise once she has been examined,” was the short reply.

“Very well, who are her serving ladies? Who is her head lady or butler? Who is taking care of her during this time?”

“…she currently has none.”

“Who is responsible for ensuring sufficient staff for the Lady Consort, Sir Lenin?” The question came out sharper than his previous one.

“The Empress, Duke of Dillon.”

“Is the Empress failing in her duties then?”

“Duke of Dillon! I ask you remember decorum!” The rebuke came swiftly, glasses being placed back on the speaker’s face. “You, more than anyone, should be aware of the last few months within the Empire, and more so what that meant for the Palace. Even if the Empress overlooked this, it is not your place to question her competencies!”

“I was not born yesterday, Len. She has overlooked nothing.”

There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation, ending with a long sigh.

“…I know. I am sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He responded harshly. “I did my duty towards my kingdom and Emperor but have failed my daughter; you, however, have simply failed in your duty towards your Emperor. You don’t have to care for the Lady Consort, but you are duty bound in protecting the Emperor’s people – and she is now one of them, more so as she is with child. Seeing her state now, I cannot begin to imagine what she has gone through.”

Silence stretched on between them, once again broken by Sir Lenin.

“What’s done is done Lennox. What has passed cannot be fixed but moving forward I will ensure that she is properly taken care of.”

“I will hold you to it, on the bonds of our battalion’s brotherhood.” Lennox Dillon solemnly swore, looking at the man who was just as burdened as the Emperor. “I’ve already lost Adora… I cannot lose Rayyan. Not now, not ever. If something were to happen… I cannot be responsible for my actions…”

“-chess, Sire?”

Alan’s voice broke him from his reverie, and he paid attention to the figure walking towards him. The Empress’s mother swept forward, accompanied by her handmaid. Stopping a few feet away from him, she smiled softly and greeted him.

“Duke Dillon, congratulations are in order I believe,” she said calmly, smiling at the handsome man across from her. “You will be a grandfather soon.”

Lennox tilted his head, returning her greeting. “Thank you, Duchess Galen. These are happy times for our kingdom.”

“Of course,” she agreed readily, “I just came from visiting her majesty. She is simply overjoyed that the royal line will have another addition.”

“As she should be,” the Duke replied tonelessly. The two members of nobility stared at each other, shallowly smiling at each other. The Duke moved aside, pardoning himself.

“I must excuse myself Duchess, it is past time I return to my estate. Please convey my greeting to the Duke of Galen. Good day to you, Duchess Galen.”

She folded her hands over the front of her body and moved aside, letting him pass by. Verena watched him walk away, committing the image of his broad shoulders and upright posture to memory.

“Good day to you too… Lennox,” she whispered, absent-mindedly rubbing at the burn scar on the inside of her wrist.

Only after was he out of sight did she turn around, continuing her walk towards her destination.