Chapter 52
The moment their eyes met, she quickly turned her head away, but even in profile his lips were clearly curled up in amusement.
Selachia swallowed hard and checked on Tenus through the sharp gazes directed her way. His face alone made it obvious that her sudden appearance had caught him completely off guard.
“Ah. Well…”
His lips parted as though to make an excuse, but no words came out. He looked cornered, fumbling, unable to put together even a poor explanation.
Just then, from the otherwise silent table, a deep laugh rang out.
“Hahaha! Did you come here because you missed the Duke, my lady?”
At Baron Colby’s remark, the stiff atmosphere in the garden eased.
“Ah, is that it? Then those rumors about the two of you must be true. The ones from the shopping district.”
“They say His Grace personally carried your parasol, my lady. And that you went canoeing together, just the two of you.”
“That’s not what I heard. Wasn’t it some other man she went canoeing with?”
“My good man, do you really think the lady would go out with some stranger? You really ought to learn to tell the difference between rumor and truth.”
Selachia fought to maintain a polite smile. The topic made her uncomfortable—painfully so—but better to smile than look awkward.
She planned to leave soon anyway: wait until the conversation ebbed, apologize for interrupting, and retreat quickly.
But before she could excuse herself, Baron Colby once again offered the kind of “kindness” she hadn’t asked for.
“Don’t just stand there, my lady. Please, take a seat. It’s a vassals’ council, and I think it would do us good if you joined.”
Immediately, one of the vassals across the table shot back, voice stiff with disapproval.
“That makes no sense. The lady hasn’t yet received imperial confirmation of her marriage. At the last confirmation she—”
“Ahem. Weren’t we all told, by His Grace himself, never to bring that up again? Even so, I must object to the lady’s presence. It’s far too soon.”
“Perhaps not the right to vote, but surely there’s no harm in granting her the right to attend.”
“Then why not the right to vote as well? Even Lord Rog has one.”
“That’s a meaningless exception and you know it.”
The lighthearted tones suddenly hardened, voices rising with severity.
Selachia only darted her eyes back and forth. She had no desire whatsoever to attend the meeting. The whole heated argument was energy wasted on nothing.
“Um, gentlemen, I—”
She was about to state her clear refusal when Tenus cut across her voice with a gesture.
“Selachia.”
He beckoned her.
“Come here.”
She was left speechless. In contrast to the flushed, argumentative vassals, Tenus looked completely relaxed, as though there was nothing unusual about calling her over.
His composure only stung her pride further, reminding her that she was the only one still unsettled after last night’s difficult conversation.
If she didn’t want to look hurt, should she just do as he said?
While she hesitated, Nancy hurriedly carried over a chair and set it right next to Tenus. She moved the heavy seat with startling speed, earning an approving nod from Roberta at her side.
“My lady, please sit here!”
It was impossible to refuse without making a scene. Selachia had no choice but to take the spot unexpectedly offered to her—right beside Tenus, at the place of highest honor at the table.
Once seated, she could feel every gaze more sharply. Some eyes were warm, others clearly resentful.
This time, she broke the silence herself.
“I didn’t know a council meeting was being held here. I’m sorry for intruding.”
“What are you apologizing for? You’ve done nothing wrong.”
She ignored Tenus’s tactless interruption and continued.
“I understand perfectly well that it’s too soon for me to join such meetings. You’ve allowed me to sit here anyway, but I won’t be a burden. Please continue without minding me.”
“Ahem. We did not oppose your attendance out of petty feelings, my lady.”
“I know. And I don’t take offense, so please don’t worry.”
The vassals who had most strongly rejected her coughed awkwardly, showing no further intent to drive her out. Selachia only hoped that was because of her words—not because Tenus sat glaring daggers at them from her side.
Doing her best to look harmless, she arranged her face into a neutral smile, as though she had no connection to Tenus at all.
But Tenus’s eyes moved from vassal to vassal, before finally landing on Nancy.
“Nancy.”
His instructions were so low Selachia, seated right beside him, couldn’t catch them. But Nancy clearly understood, for she smiled brightly and skipped off toward the manor.
In her absence, Amy quietly poured tea into Selachia’s cup.
Pretending to watch the stream of amber liquid, Selachia studied the maid instead.
“Now then, shall we return to the matter of the Tria Company’s trade goods?”
“As I was saying about maintaining the exclusive rights to trade…”
The vassals carried on as though Selachia had ceased to exist. She half-listened to their jargon, letting it wash over her while her thoughts spun.
It was Amy’s doing, no doubt, that she had ended up here.
But why? What could Amy gain by dragging her into this meeting?
To watch her get thrown out? To laugh at her for sitting mute and useless among the vassals?
“….”
Selachia gave a quiet, bitter laugh at her own small-minded speculation.
She had lived for over ten years in her father’s household as a burden, scorned and neglected. Being ignored was nothing new.
And besides, Seiden was not her own house—it was someone else’s. Why should she feel wronged to be treated coldly in another family’s council?
She brushed the thoughts aside. No, Amy must have had some larger, more ambitious purpose that Selachia couldn’t even guess at.
Which meant…
“….”
Her gaze dropped to the teacup, now filled to the brim with clear liquid.
“What is it?”
Noticing her staring at the tea without touching it, Tenus whispered.
His face tilted close, far too close. She felt his warm breath at her ear; if she turned her head, their noses might brush.
The realization erased every other thought in her mind, her awareness shrinking to him alone.
“Selachia Seiden.”
When she said nothing for too long, Tenus called her again. She licked her dry lips and whispered back.
“…I think Amy’s trying to poison me.”
“What?”
“She said you’d called me to the garden. That’s why I came.”
“I never did.”
“Exactly. Which means this was all her plan. She wouldn’t have sent for me otherwise.”
Tenus said nothing. Selachia wondered if he thought she was paranoid, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the cup.
It wasn’t that she truly feared the tea would suddenly rise up and kill her. It was simply that Tenus’s nearness made her so nervous she couldn’t focus on anything else.
As she leaned slightly away from him, trying to put distance between them, a large hand suddenly entered her field of vision.
Broad fingers seized her cup—and in one swift motion, Tenus drank the contents down.
Selachia’s eyes went wide.
“What are you doing?! It could be poisoned!”
“I told you before—I’m immune.”
“You don’t even know what kind of poison it might be!”
“I’m immune to most.”
“Even if you survive, that doesn’t mean it won’t make you vomit blood or writhe in agony while your insides burn!”
Her words hissed out between clenched teeth. In her agitation, she found herself leaning even closer to him.
“How can a duke keep making such reckless sacrifices?”
“Finally, you’re looking at me.”
“What?”
“Hm. Doesn’t taste like poison.”
Calmly, he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, utterly unaffected by her scolding.
“You—!”
She swallowed her fury, forcing her breaths steady for propriety’s sake. But only then did she realize how unnaturally quiet it had grown around them.
The background hum of vassals’ voices was gone.
Startled, Selachia turned her head stiffly.
Dozens of eyes fixed on her, far livelier now than during the meeting.
Heat rushed to her face—and then someone burst into raucous laughter.
“Wahahaha!”
The laughter spread like wildfire, until the whole table was chuckling, even those who had opposed her presence earlier.
“Hahaha! The two of you whispering so sweetly together—it’s just like the previous Duke and Duchess. Truly, I never believed those rumors that His Grace could be affectionate.”
“Nor I. The Duke has always shown no interest in women. No matter how much we pushed for marriage, he rejected it time and again.”
“Even seeing it with my own eyes, it’s still hard to believe. But tell us, surely that story about you carrying her parasol was exaggerated?”
Viscount Shulman, sitting nearby, asked with a mischievous gleam.
Tenus answered without hesitation, as if such petty questions were nothing.
“Carrying a parasol is hardly a big deal.”
