“That is…” she whispered, face pink, “irrelevant.”
“It’s very relevant,” Sylva’s voice called from downstairs.
Lucy grinned. “Victory.”
Sylva’s quiet amusement brushed against her like a warm touch. Lucy pretended not to notice. It was becoming a full-time job.
Rhea entered with folded clothes. “These should fit you. They’re simple, but warm.”
The Baroness took them like sacred artifacts.
When she returned, Rhea clapped softly. “You look lovely.”
Basil paused mid-step. “Oh,” he said quietly. “You look… very pretty.”
Lucy gagged.
Before she could retort, Sylva entered the lounge, and Lucy’s soul aggressively evicted her body. Her body reacted before her pride could intervene. Heat rose to her face. Her pulse skipped. It was wildly inconvenient.
He wore a pale-blue warrior’s outfit adorned with silver accents, crossed belts, and layered armor plates. His tail flicked lazily, ears perked forward. Tan skin and sharp pale eyes contrasted beautifully with the cool tones of the outfit.
Lucy stared. Her mouth may have dropped open—just a little.
Sylva frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
His voice was neutral. His ears weren’t. They angled forward a fraction, attentive in a way that made Lucy feel seen without being cornered.
Lucy frantically fumbled in her satchel, ripped out a notebook, and scribbled at lightning speed:You look weird dressed like that.
Sylva snorted. Loudly.
“You wrote it down to avoid the lie detection?” he said. “That means you’re lying.”
Lucy slammed the notebook shut and slapped it to her chest.
Before she could recover, voices drifted in from outside—familiar ones.
“Rhea?” a man called. “You home?”
Rhea stiffened just a fraction. Lucy noticed.
The door opened, and a dark-haired man stepped inside. Something about him felt… off. Not dangerous. Not magical. Just wrong, like a painting with a skewed perspective.
“Brother,” Rhea said, smiling. “You’re early.”
Lucy blinked.
Brother?
“Do you have a second brother-in-law?” Lucy asked, practically drooling at the man who sauntered into the room.
The man smiled back — polite, pleasant, absurdly handsome—the exact opposite of Brom, who looked forgettable.
His gaze flicked over the room, cataloguing everyone in it in the space of a breath.
“Theo,” Rhea said warmly. “These are friends.”
Lucy stared harder now.
