The morning sun barely reached through the thick mist curling around Ashthrone Manor, casting only a dull, hesitant light through the high windows of the dining hall.
Serena hesitated at the threshold. The scent of freshly brewed tea and buttered toast lingered in the air, but there was something else, too—an underlying tension.
Three figures sat at the grand dining table.
Lucian Blackmoor, ever composed, sat at the head, his expression unreadable as he sipped his tea. His storm-gray eyes, sharp and cold, flicked up as soon as she entered. A look that sent an unshakable awareness down her spine.
To his left sat Jerry, a man with chocolate-brown hair and a permanent smirk. His attire, though neat, carried an air of effortless charm, his sleeves slightly rolled up as if he had better things to do than play noble.
And beside Jerry—Ava.
Her grape-violet hair caught the weak morning light, and her green eyes narrowed ever so slightly as she stirred her tea a little too forcefully.
"Well, well," Jerry grinned, setting down his cup with an exaggerated flourish. "The Duke has finally done the unthinkable—invited a woman to breakfast. Should we celebrate, Ava? Or is this a sign of the world ending?"
Ava exhaled, propping her chin on her palm. "I vote for the latter. Lucian and hospitality don't exactly go hand in hand."
Lucian, unfazed, set his cup down with deliberate ease. He said nothing, but the weight of his stare was sharp enough to cut glass.
Serena wasn't sure how to react.
Lucian invited her? She had assumed last night's encounter had left them at an impasse, a silent understanding that she was merely a guest walking on the edge of something far deeper than she could comprehend.
Yet here she was.
"Serena," Lucian acknowledged, his voice smooth, without warmth. He gestured to the empty seat across from him. "Sit."
She did.
"Tea?" Jerry offered, winking as he reached for the teapot. "Or do you prefer something stronger? A bit of brandy, perhaps? You did survive a night in the manor, after all. That calls for a drink."
Ava rolled her eyes. "She doesn't need your theatrics, Jerry."
Jerry gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. "My dear Ava, if I don't provide theatrics, who will?"
Serena let out a soft chuckle, which seemed to please Jerry and irritate Ava—though the latter tried to hide it behind a sip of tea.
Lucian, however, remained silent.
Expressionless.
Watching.
His gaze was impossibly steady, as if he could peel back layers of her thoughts with just a glance. Serena felt an odd sense of being studied, as though he were measuring something unseen.
Jerry nudged Ava suddenly, lowering his voice in a stage whisper.
"Do you think Lucian smiled after she arrived? Even a little?"
Ava smirked. "Lucian? Smile? That would require a soul."
Jerry dramatically shuddered. "You're right. My mistake. Maybe he twitched. A twitch counts, right?"
Lucian exhaled through his nose. Not quite a sigh. Not quite irritation.
But his stare?
Deadly.
Jerry grinned. "Oh, I think we're getting to him. What do you think, Serena? Has our dear Duke shown even the slightest hint of amusement?"
Serena, amused but wary of Lucian's gaze, set down her cup carefully.
"I think if he ever did, it would be more terrifying than his usual stare."
Silence.
Then—
Jerry burst out laughing.
Even Ava smirked, though she quickly hid it behind her teacup.
Lucian, however, did nothing.
Didn't react. Didn't blink.
Just watched.
And yet…
Something in his gray eyes shifted. Not quite annoyance. Not quite amusement.
Just something.
A flicker.
Whatever game Jerry and Ava were playing, Lucian Blackmoor was always three steps ahead.
The laughter faded, but Jerry's smirk remained as he leaned back in his chair, utterly at ease despite the daggers Lucian's eyes were throwing at him.
"You wound me, Duke," Jerry sighed dramatically, resting a hand over his heart. "At least pretend to enjoy our company. Or is brooding the only thing you know how to do?"
Ava clicked her tongue. "You're asking a man with the emotional range of a locked door to express feelings. Good luck with that."
Serena took a slow sip of tea, watching Lucian closely.
He hadn't spoken since welcoming her.
He didn't need to.
The air around him was a force on its own—a quiet, unshaken presence that demanded attention even in silence.
Lucian tapped his fingers once against the table—a barely-there movement. And yet, it was enough to send a strange hush through the air.
The room cooled.
Jerry, ever the fearless one, grinned wider.
"Ah," he mused, drumming his fingers against the table in mock imitation. "That was, what, a gesture? Progress! What's next, Lucian? A raised eyebrow? A full sentence?"
Lucian tilted his head ever so slightly, gray eyes gleaming with something dark.
"Would you prefer silence or suffering?"
Jerry blinked.
Then laughed, delighted. "Now, that's the Duke I know."
Ava sighed. "One day, Jerry, he really is going to kill you, and I won't even blame him."
Lucian picked up his teacup, ignoring them entirely.
Serena, despite herself, felt a small smile tug at the corner of her lips.
There was something oddly fascinating about watching these three interact. The way Jerry provoked, Ava warned, and Lucian tolerated.
Or at least, appeared to.
"So," Serena finally spoke, setting her cup down. "Are breakfasts always this lively?"
Ava smirked. "Oh, this is tame."
Jerry leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a scandalous secret. "Last week, Ava tried to stab Lucian with a fork."
Serena blinked. "Why?"
Ava shrugged, utterly unbothered. "He pissed me off."
Lucian sighed through his nose, finally looking at Serena again.
"Eat," he said simply.
A command.
She should have been annoyed at his dismissive tone. Should have questioned why, exactly, he had invited her here in the first place.
But all she could think about, as the morning light barely touched the mist outside, was one thing—
This house may have been silent.
But it was never dull.