Chapter 231: The Warm Feeling of Love
"You’re staring again," Emma accused softly, folding her arms. "Do you enjoy startling people with those... adora—uh—sharp eyes of yours?"
When his gaze finally met hers, her entire body felt like it had caught fire. She hated the way her heart stuttered at it. She hated that she liked it, too. It was all so confusing, and she wanted no part in sorting it out.
Elias had slept for a while, and when he woke, a bit of color had returned to his face. But he was still staring at her like... that.
"No," he said flatly. "Only you."
She blinked, her heart tripping over itself. "That’s not—Elias, you can’t just say things like that without warning."
"Noted," he replied without missing a beat. He didn’t move, but his eyes followed her with that unnerving stillness that always made her feel seen in ways she wasn’t ready for. "I wanted to give you something."
"Oh no," she groaned, half-expecting the peony he’d failed to hand her earlier. "If it’s another flower—"
He really didn’t have to give her anything, not when he had a wound on his side and had barely escaped death today.
"That," he said, pointing toward his coat hanging on the wall.
"You want that?" Emma crossed to the coat. Her hands trembled as she lifted it. The tear, the bloodstains... it hit her all at once how close she’d come to losing him. Her throat tightened, and tears welled up. She hugged the coat to her chest, pressing her lips against the rough fabric as if to hold the moment still.
When she turned back, though, she swallowed it all down. He was here. He was alive. That was enough. If she cried now, it would only hurt him, and Elias hated seeing her cry, even if he pretended otherwise.
She returned the coat to him. He reached into the inner pocket, muttering, "I need to save for a new coat," then looked up at her with that dry, expectant expression. He must’ve sensed her pain and was trying to make her laugh. He was odd like that...quiet, awkward... but Emma knew how gentle his heart was. She chuckled despite herself, and he looked quietly pleased.
He finally held out a small, leather-bound book. A sprig of rosemary was pressed into the cover, its shape embossed delicately. She heard him exhale in relief: it wasn’t damaged.
Emma accepted it carefully. "What’s this?"
"A notebook," he said, as if that explained everything. "You talk so much. I thought you’d like somewhere to put the words when I’m resting."
Her cheeks flushed hot. "You...That’s not...You can’t just..." She hugged the notebook to her chest. Sometimes she worried she talked too much, that he wasn’t really listening. But he had been listening. He valued her words. That realization made her heart ache in the softest way. "Thank you," she whispered.
He only gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable as ever. "It’s not a gift. It’s an investment."
"In what?" she asked, breathless without meaning to be.
"You," he said simply, then leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes.
Emma pressed her lips together, laughter trembling in her chest. This man. This man!
She hugged the notebook tight, as if to keep her heart from bursting.
This feeling... love... it was warm. Terrifying. Wonderful.
Lorraine found Emma in the medical room, tending to Elias. She knocked lightly before entering.
Inside, Emma was feeding Elias. She immediately stood when she saw Lorraine.
"Your Highness," Emma greeted, her face blooming into a bright smile.
"Don’t mind me," Lorraine waved her hand gracefully. "Don’t get up, Elias."
Elias blinked, startled. The Princess talked? He’d been told she was deaf and mute. What was going on?
His gaze darted to Emma, but she seemed utterly unfazed, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. The realization struck him: she had always known. The Princess had never been mute.
He didn’t know what to make of it. But when he saw Emma’s radiant smile, some of his confusion melted away, replaced by a surprising sense of ease.
"How are you feeling now?" Lorraine asked, turning to Elias.
"Your Highness, I wish to apologize for failing to protect the Grand Duke—"
"Oh, don’t be ridiculous," Lorraine interrupted lightly. "I was worried for you. You didn’t have to get yourself injured trying to protect him."
Before Emma could react, Lorraine slipped an arm around her shoulders and leaned close.
"Did Elias get his kiss today?" she whispered mischievously. "He looks far too happy for someone who nearly died."
"Your Highness..." Emma flushed crimson, covering her face with her hands.
Elias froze, stunned. He glanced at Emma, who was now hiding her face, and then at the Princess, who was teasing her lady-in-waiting like an old friend.
Lorraine’s arm remained comfortably draped around Emma’s shoulders. There was no stiffness, no rigid divide of status. Just familiarity. Affection.
For Elias, who’d spent most of his life in battlefields and harsh camps, this sight was jarring. A Princess Consort, the epitome of aristocratic elegance, laughing and whispering like this with a servant?
Something stirred in his chest. Admiration, warm and unexpected. He’d always respected the Prince for his valor, but now, looking at the Princess, he found himself wanting to serve her too.
He understood, suddenly, why Emma always seemed so cheerful, so free. She served an extraordinary woman. And now, Elias wanted to protect this world that had taken him in.
Lorraine moved on to practical matters, reviewing Emma’s plans for the upcoming Candlelight Ball. Her lips curved in satisfaction as Emma had outdone herself this year. For the past two years, she had worked under Sylvia’s supervision, but now, the arrangements were entirely her own.
Even while caring for Elias, Emma’s eyes lit up when they whispered over the decorations and the food. Lorraine mentioned, with a conspiratorial smile, arranging Aldric and Sylvia’s betrothal without Sylvia knowing. Emma nearly bounced with excitement.
Elias watched them quietly. They weren’t mistress and servant in that moment—they were friends. The Princess wasn’t barking orders. She was laughing. Whispering secrets. Trusting.
When Lorraine finally left, Emma lingered in the warm afterglow of her presence, a bright smile still clinging to her lips.
"You love the Princess, don’t you?" Elias asked softly.
"I’d do anything for her," Emma replied without hesitation.
Elias didn’t answer. He simply reached for her hand, his decision settling silently in his heart.
He had stumbled into something precious: a sanctuary he hadn’t even known he longed for. And he would fight to keep it.
No one would take this away from him.