As evening settled over Shelb Castle, Calista had already prepared Magda's herbal bath. The warm, fragrant water steamed gently, filling the room with the soothing aroma of lavender and chamomile.
Magda eased into the bath, her slender frame sinking into the comforting embrace of the water. She closed her crimson eyes, letting the warmth seep into her weary muscles.
Calista knelt behind her, carefully oiling Magda's raven-black locks. Each stroke of her fingers was precise, reverent, as if tending to a sacred ritual.
Her emerald eyes studied her mistress's form with a critical gaze, noting every detail with practiced care.
"The welt marks seem to have completely faded, Your Highness," Calista remarked, her voice soft but tinged with relief. "Even your skin seems to glow now."
Magda lazily opened her eyes, lifting one arm to inspect it. Calista was right.
Her skin, once marred by scars of physical abuse and the harshness of a life lived in poverty, was now pale and smooth—almost aristocratic in its perfection.
"You've done too much for me, Calista," Magda murmured, her tone languid.
Three years of careful pampering and devoted care by Calista had erased the physical remnants of her hardships and traumas.
Calista's lips curved into a small smile, though her movements remained steady. "You deserve nothing less, Your Highness."
Magda sank deeper into the bath, letting her head rest against the edge. Her body was one of the reasons why she never complained when the House of Shelb's assigned her this humiliating living arrangements. Living in a separate wing from her husband was a small price to pay to maintain her privacy and dignity.
The soft creak of the door interrupted their quiet moment.
A matron entered, her expression composed but her tone firm. "Your Highness, the Duchess requests your presence at the dining hall. The Duke and your elder brothers-in-law have arrived at the estate."
Magda's crimson eyes flickered open, a faint furrow forming between her brows. She nodded once, acknowledging the message. "Thank you. I'll be there shortly."
The matron bowed and left the room, the door clicking softly shut behind her. As soon as she was gone, Calista's calm demeanor cracked, her emerald eyes flashing with anger.
"Unacceptable," she hissed, her voice low but furious.
"Your Highness is an Imperial Princess! Decorum dictates that you be given at least a day's notice before any changes to your schedule. This is an insult!"
Magda sat up slightly, her expression calm despite Calista's agitation. "Calista," she said gently, placing a hand on her retainer's arm. "It's fine. They're family."
"Family?" Calista repeated, her voice heavy with disbelief.
"They've done nothing but impose on you, Your Highness. Family should treat you with respect."
Magda offered a faint smile, her gaze softening. "Perhaps. But I'd rather not dwell on what should be. I'll attend the dinner."
Calista's lips thinned, her frustration evident, but she nodded reluctantly.
Calista hurriedly helped Magda dress in a simple but elegant gown, her hands moving with practiced efficiency. Despite their best efforts, by the time Magda reached the dining hall in the main building, everyone was already seated.
At the head of the table sat Duke Louis von Shelb, his sharp blue eyes surveying the room with authority. To his left, Duchess Eleanor exuded her usual poise, her hazel eyes warm with welcome. On the Duke's right was Ethan, the eldest brother-in-law and a legendary war hero whose presence carried the weight of countless battles. Beside him sat Micheal, her husband the youngest, quietly staring at his plate.
Magda entered and greeted them softly. The men nodded in acknowledgment, their responses curt but polite. Duchess Eleanor, however, offered her a warm smile that never failed to soothe Magda's nerves. She returned the smile, her heart feeling lighter.
Magda carefully made her way to the Duchess's side and sat down, leaving a seat between them. Eleanor raised a brow, puzzled by the unspoken distance, but she had long grown accustomed to Magda's peculiar habits.
As Magda settled in, her eyes caught the faint glint of a pendant around Micheal's neck. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized it—the pendant she had gifted him. The sight warmed her, though Micheal's gaze never lifted from his plate.
"Where might Adrian be?" the Duke asked, his tone calm but inquisitive.
Ethan responded without hesitation. "He's finishing up the accounts for our last expedition. He should be along shortly."
The Duke nodded, then signaled for dinner to begin. As servants brought out the courses, the men delved into discussions about logistics and finances.
The Duchess leaned toward Magda, her voice soft and apologetic. "I'm sorry for the short notice, dear. But with everyone here tonight, I couldn't resist. I even made my best fish soup, and I didn't want you to miss out."
Magda smiled gently, her voice sincere. "Thank you, Your Grace. It's delicious."
"Is there anything else you'd like to eat?" the Duchess asked warmly.
Before Magda could reply, the door swung open, and Adrian, Ethan's younger twin entered, still dressed in his uniform. His golden blonde hair was slightly disheveled, and a playful grin lit up his face as he strode toward the table.
"Sorry for the delay," Adrian announced jovially, taking the empty seat between the Duchess and Magda. "I just couldn't miss dinner. Blame Ethan for leaving me with the paperwork."
Magda stiffened slightly at his sudden intrusion, but she quickly regained her composure.
The table chuckled softly at his antics. "You're in uniform," the Duchess remarked with mild disapproval.
Adrian placed a hand over his heart, feigning guilt. "Forgive me, Your Grace. I came straight here to ensure I didn't miss your wonderful cooking."
He turned to Micheal with a mischievous glint in his eye. "And you, dear brother, still working on some weird innovation?"
Micheal's response was a quiet hum, his focus seemingly elsewhere. Ethan shook his head, and the Duchess chuckled softly at Adrian's playful jab.
Meanwhile, Magda chewed her food carefully, trying to not draw any attention to herself, her movements precise as she followed the etiquette drilled into her by imperial instructors. Her attention was on her soup until she felt someone watching her.
Glancing up, she found Adrian studying her with an amused expression.
"You look like a cute little squirrel," he whispered, his tone teasing.
Magda blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing. Before she could respond, Adrian scooped a spoonful of potatoes and popped it into his mouth, mimicking her careful chewing with exaggerated precision.
A soft giggle escaped Magda's lips before she could stop herself. The sound was light, pure, and utterly unguarded. Suddenly, the table fell silent, all eyes turning toward her.
Magda's cheeks burned as she quickly apologized. "Forgive my impoliteness."
The Duke's stern expression softened. "It's fine to laugh in family settings, Magda. But remember to maintain decorum in public, like your sister Flora."
The Duchess smiled warmly. "You look lovely when you smile, dear."
Magda nodded shyly, her embarrassment fading as the conversation resumed. She couldn't help but steal a few glances at Micheal, who remained silent and distant throughout the meal. He didn't look her way even once.
Despite this, the dinner exuded a rare warmth, a sense of familial closeness that Magda cherished. As the meal ended, she hurriedly rose, hoping to match Micheal's pace as he left the hall.
But her efforts were thwarted by the three brothers walking together like an impenetrable wall.
Her hurried footsteps caught Adrian's attention, and he exchanged a knowing look with Ethan. With subtle gestures, the two excused themselves, leaving Micheal and Magda alone in the corridor.
Magda quickened her pace, trying to walk beside Micheal, but his longer strides made it difficult. She felt as though she was chasing his shadow.
Finally, as they reached the point where their paths diverged, Magda summoned her courage. "Good night, Micheal," she said softly, her voice trembling ever so slightly.
He paused, his expression unreadable. "Good night," he replied, his tone calm but not unkind.
Magda's heart soared despite his brevity. She clutched the warmth of his acknowledgment, her steps light as she made her way back to her chambers. Tomorrow, she resolved, she would gather the courage to ask him about his day.