The Crow That’s After Me
Chapter 08 —
Elena was sick for more than a week. When she finally got out of bed, Mary’s eyes filled with tears of joy. After washing her face, Elena handed Mary the hair comb she had been clutching during her illness.
“Oh my, it’s a Corangde flower!”
“Corangde?”
Elena tilted her head at the unfamiliar name. Mary explained with a smile.
“It’s a famous flower here. It blooms even in the snow — isn’t that amazing? The flower in the crow’s claw on Lord Barsian’s seal is also a Corangde.”
“What color are its petals?”
Elena was curious. A flower that bloomed in the snow — she wanted to see it. Seeing her mistress looking a little livelier, Mary smiled.
“It’s a noble shade of purple. If you wait just a bit longer, you’ll be able to see it for yourself, madam.”
Elena’s smile faded. Even though her fever had gone down, just standing up made her body feel weak again. She wondered how she would survive the long winter ahead.
“You must be strong like the Corangde, my lady. Don’t lose heart,” Mary said firmly.
Elena only lowered her gaze in silence.
Then Mary asked cautiously, “Who gave you this comb as a gift?”
“Who else but my husband?” Elena answered with a faint smile. Mary looked relieved. Foolish Mary — but her hands were skillful.
Elena gazed silently at the mirror. She twisted up her long hair and fixed it in place with the comb Theodore had given her. The reflection staring back looked every bit the true Duchess of Barsian. It had taken a long time to get here.
After a short sigh, Elena rose from her seat with Mary’s help. It was time for her first duty as Duchess.
When Elena entered the great hall with Mary, Theodore and his retainers all stood to greet her. Until now, she had only been a guest in Barsian. But now, she was its mistress.
Elena sat beside Theodore, holding his hand.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“As you can see, I’m fine,” she replied softly.
“You still look fragile,” he said with concern. “Don’t overexert yourself. Leave if you feel tired.”
Elena nodded. Then the council began. The retainers stepped forward one by one to present their reports. Elena listened carefully to learn about the affairs of the North.
They spoke of wolves attacking villages, a dispute among residents over livestock ownership, and seed varieties being prepared for next spring’s planting.
Theodore ordered knights to hunt the wolves, settled the ownership dispute, and postponed any decisions about the new seeds until later.
It reminded Elena of her father’s work in the South — similar but not the same. She realized that when Theodore was away, she would have to handle such matters herself.
Perhaps because it was her first official appearance as Duchess — or because of her frail health — the meeting ended smoothly without any major issues.
“Let’s have lunch together,” Theodore suggested afterward. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
There was no reason to refuse. Elena took his hand and followed him to the dining hall.
As dishes were served, Theodore sat opposite her, watching her reactions carefully. Her usually calm face wavered slightly at the sight of each familiar southern dish being placed before her.
“What surprises you so?” he asked with a faint smile.
Elena quickly composed her face, but it was too late — he had already noticed.
“It feels… different from usual,” she murmured.
The main dish — rabbit meat cooked in a sweet wine sauce — was distinctly southern cuisine. Even the order of courses was southern-style: appetizers first, then the main course. In the North, all dishes were served at once.
“I hired a new chef skilled in southern cooking,” Theodore said casually.
Elena froze with her knife midair. She couldn’t believe he had done that — for her.
“Don’t just sit there in shock,” he said. “Taste it first. If it suits your palate, I’ll consider keeping him.”
“…It’s delicious,” she whispered.
The meat was so tender it fell from the bone effortlessly. She almost cried. It tasted like home — the South she missed so much. Theodore’s lips curved in satisfaction as he watched her eat.
That hunting trip from a week ago? It had been a ruse. While away, Theodore had secretly met with a messenger sent to the South. He wanted to learn why the Emperor had sent the Duke of Selrem’s daughter to the North.
The messenger brought back rumors and testimonies from Selrem’s servants. Elena had been exiled because she refused to become the Crown Prince’s mistress. When the Prince later learned of her marriage, he flew into a rage, and Elena’s old nanny fell ill from the shock.
Hearing this, Theodore began to see Elena differently — with less hostility. She, too, was a victim of royal politics, much like himself.
He remembered her expression that first night — how she silently endured his cruel words. She must have been furious, humiliated. And yet, she bore it all.
Even so, watching a proud noblewoman fume because of him had amused him. Especially because he was the reason.
“Does the meal not suit your taste, Your Grace?” Elena asked, noticing him staring.
He quickly shook his head and began eating. The sweet flavor of the sauce mixed with the tenderness of the meat reminded him of her skin — soft and warm.
He stopped himself. What am I thinking?
Elena was a southern woman — passionate, seductive, and dangerous. Of course she knew how to tempt men. He almost fell for it. Theodore scolded himself silently. She was his prisoner, not someone to love.
“The dessert will be served soon,” a servant announced.
Elena’s face brightened instantly. It reminded him of that night she had been so thrilled to see the snow.
“It’s Rabevoir, made with honey and raspberry jam,” the servant explained.
Elena didn’t need the explanation — she recognized it immediately. The dessert had gone out of fashion long ago in the South, but even so, she was delighted.
She inhaled the sweet scent of honey, sliced into the cake, and watched the ruby-red jam ooze out. It was perfect. She smiled at Theodore.
“If I could eat like this every day, I wouldn’t mind being sick again,” she said playfully.
A dimple appeared on her cheek — something Theodore had never noticed before. He realized she had never smiled so freely until now. And that meant there were still many things about her he didn’t know.
For a brief moment, his heart calmed. But then the cold truth returned — she was a southern woman, untrustworthy, a potential threat to the North.
Theodore smiled faintly. “My dear wife is still such a child. No wonder you cling to your nanny’s letters.”
Elena’s smile vanished. Her face returned to its usual calm, distant mask. Theodore preferred her that way — emotionless, easier to deal with.
“You must miss your home very much,” he said.
“No. I only spoke without thinking,” she replied softly, lowering her eyes. The dessert before her remained untouched.
“That’s unlike you,” he said. “Even if you hate me, at least don’t punish the food.”
“I’m simply not hungry,” she said coldly.
“That pains me. I thought we’d grown closer, but you still push me away,” he murmured.
Elena glared at him, then picked up her fork and took a slow bite of the dessert — because if she refused, it would be seen as an insult.
“I have knight training this afternoon,” Theodore said. “Would you like to watch?”
She shook her head wordlessly. He studied her face.
“Then I’ll visit your chambers tonight. Be prepared.”
Elena’s hand clenched tightly around her fork.
“As you wish, Your Grace,” she replied stiffly.
Once she left the dining hall, Elena stormed down the corridor, her anger simmering.
“My lady! Please slow down — you’ll collapse again!” Mary cried, panting behind her.
Realizing she was taking it out on Mary, Elena stopped and waited. She didn’t have to act like Theodore — she was not him.
If he was going to be cruel, he should stay that way. Why act kind one moment and cruel the next? The gift, the gentle tone, the southern dishes — all lies. He was still the same man who humiliated her for revenge. But even so, she hadn’t expected him to mock her old nanny.
As she and Mary walked back to her chambers, Elena forced herself to calm down. She refused the herbal tea the physician had prescribed and drank the same tea she’d brought from the South.
Her conclusion was simple: she could trust no one. Not her only maid. Not her husband.
Caw! Caw!
“There you are,” Mary sighed, opening the window. “I thought you weren’t coming today.”
It was Donovan.
Elena smiled and held out her arm. The crow immediately landed on it. Then she noticed the small piece of paper tied to its leg. Pretending to stroke its feathers, she pulled her cloak over its body.
“For a wild bird, he’s quite clever,” Mary said. “Did you know? When you were bedridden, he came by every single day.”
“Good boy,” Elena murmured, keeping her tone casual as she secretly slipped the paper free and hid it in her hand.
Donovan squawked loudly, flapping his wings in excitement, thrilled to see her again. Watching him, a thought flashed through Elena’s mind.
Maybe — just maybe — the crow could carry a letter all the way to the South.
“Mary,” she said calmly.
“Yes, my lady?”
“Would you bring some treats for Donovan?”
As soon as Mary left the room, Elena unfolded the small note with quick, trembling hands.
