Page 51 of Maid For The Dark Elf

"Lady Aurelia, is everything⁠—"

"Going well?" She interrupts, violet eyes studying me with uncomfortable intensity. "Yes, actually. Everything is going exactly as I'd hoped. Isn't it?"

"I—"

"Sister, I heard⁠—"

Caelric's voice cuts off the moment his indigo eyes find me across the room. He stands in the doorway holding a small leather-bound book, his tall frame filling the entrance with that commanding presence I've grown to love. But something's wrong. The warmth that usually lights his face when he sees me has vanished completely.

"Rosalie. I didn't realize you would be here." The words fall from his lips like rocks into still water.

My brows furrow as confusion washes over me. "Well, yes. I'm helping with the wedding preparations and with the investigation. As I have been."

"Right." His response carries no inflection, no recognition of our shared history. Those beautiful indigo eyes stare through me as if I'm made of glass, as if the woman who confessed her love to him just days ago has become a stranger.

The fabric samples suddenly feel heavy in my hands. This is the man who whispered promises against my skin, who spoke of impossible futures with such tender hope. Now he regards me with the same distant politeness he might show any servant.

"What did you need, brother?" Aurelia prompts, her voice carefully neutral.

Caelric shifts his attention to his sister with visible relief. "The seamstress you requested for the additional alterations has been approved. The arrangements are finalized."

"Wonderful. Thank you for handling that."

"Of course." He steps back toward the doorway without sparing me another glance. "I'll leave you to your preparations."

The door closes behind him with a soft click that might as well be the sound of a tomb sealing shut. I stare at the polished wood, my heart thundering against my ribs like a caged bird.

"What's wrong with him?" The words tumble out before I can help it. I turn to Aurelia, searching her violet eyes for answers. "Did I do something wrong? He's never⁠—"

Aurelia studies my face for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then understanding dawns in her features, followed immediately by something that looks almost like pity.

"Oh." She sets down the emerald silk with careful precision. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" The sitting room suddenly feels too warm, the flower arrangements too cloying. "Aurelia, what's happened?"

She draws in a slow breath, as if gathering courage for an unpleasant task. "The night of the engagement party, Father discovered your... relationship with Caelric."

The world tilts sideways. My teacup rattles against its saucer as my hands begin to shake. "He knows?"

"They all know." Aurelia's voice carries gentle finality. "And Caelric has been instructed to end it."

The sitting room spins around me, fabric samples blurring into meaningless color. My chest constricts as if someone has wrapped iron bands around my ribs and pulled them tight. They know. The family I've grown to love, the people who welcomed me into their home with such warmth—they know exactly what I am to their heir.

And Caelric has made his choice.

The days blur together in a haze of silk and silver, of flower arrangements that need constant adjustment and seating charts that change with each political consideration. I move through House Vaerith like a ghost, helping where I can while avoiding the places where Caelric might appear.

It becomes impossible, of course. The estate isn't large enough for complete avoidance, and wedding preparations demand coordination between every family member. I round corners to find him discussing security arrangements with Nikolai. I enter the library to find him reviewing guest lists with Asterion. Each encounter follows the same pattern—polite acknowledgment, careful distance, those indigo eyes skating past me as if I'm part of the furniture.

"The musicians need confirmation about the evening entertainment," Seralyth mentions during one of our planning sessions. "Caelric was supposed to approve the final selection."

"I'll handle it," I offer quickly, then catch myself. Why am I volunteering to seek him out? "Or perhaps Aurelia could⁠—"

"Nonsense. You have excellent taste." Seralyth's smile carries no hint of the knowledge I'm certain she possesses. "He's in the east wing study."

The walk through familiar corridors feels like marching to an execution. My hands shake as I knock on the heavy oak door, and his voice calling "Enter" sends ice through my veins.

He doesn't look up from the documents spread across his desk. "The Melaniris quartet is acceptable. Approve their proposal."