Awakening Love: Reborn to Be His Duchess Chapter 513: Quiet Calculations

Iris lowered her eyes, her voice soft and measured. "It's nothing more than what I'm expected to do, my lord. I couldn't possibly take credit for it."

Honestly, even something as simple as refilling drinks... I could've just had Tristan do it.

But Iris always found a way to take those tasks herself, smooth and unnoticeable, as if it were only natural.

After what happened to Daphne, she had learned her lesson.

Someone in her position could not afford to drift along and hope for the best. If she wanted a future, she had to build it herself, piece by piece, before the ground beneath her shifted.

She had already asked around about Leonhart.

His father, Duke Roland, had a reputation across Avenlor as a man who lived comfortably and stayed far from court politics. He held rank and wealth, yet kept himself untouched by the power struggles that swallowed others whole.

In some ways, that made his household even more desirable than Duskmoor Manor.

There was security there. Stability. No constant maneuvering, no endless traps to avoid.

And Leonhart himself, despite his status, was nothing like Alaric. He lacked the arrogance, the sharp temper. If anything, he was soft-hearted, easygoing, and treated those around him with a rare kind of fairness.

If she could serve at his side, her future would be far easier.

That was why she made herself visible to him whenever she could, making sure he would remember her face, her presence.

"Iris," Leonhart said, leaning a little closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret, "earlier you mentioned Alaric and Maerwyn had some kind of falling-out? What happened? It looked serious."

Iris lowered her gaze further, her expression tightening just enough. "I shouldn't be speaking about matters like that."

Leonhart's tone turned earnest, almost coaxing. "Come on, just between us. I won't repeat it, I swear. It's not like anyone else is listening. You can't expect me to just forget it now, can you?"

Iris hesitated.

Then suddenly, a faint chill crept along her spine.

Subtle, but unmistakable.

Someone was watching her.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes flicking toward Alaric.

But it wasn't him.

He sat alone, shoulders tense, drinking steadily, lost in his own thoughts, paying no attention to anything else.

So who?

"Iris?"

Leonhart nudged again, softer this time, almost pleading. "Please? No one's going to blame you for this."

Iris pushed the unease aside and turned back to him.

It still struck her how rare this was. A man of his standing, speaking to her so casually, so closely, as if there were no distance between them.

The only person she had seen act like that before was Elowen.

That thought only reinforced her conclusion. Duke Roland's household truly was the right place.

After a brief pause, she sighed softly, as though giving in. "...If you insist, my lord."

Her voice remained low and careful as she recounted the entire situation, step by step, without rushing, without embellishment.

When she finished, Leonhart exhaled, his expression complicated. "I see. That explains a lot. No wonder Alaric's been in such a mood."

Iris dipped her head slightly, her tone earnest. "I've already overstepped by saying this much. If word of it spreads, I'll be the one to pay for it. Please, my lord, I'm begging you, keep this to yourself."

Leonhart placed a hand over his chest. "You have my word. Not a single detail leaves me."

Then he frowned faintly. "Still, why are you so worried? Alaric can be sharp, sure, but he's not unreasonable."

Iris only offered a faint, strained smile, saying nothing.

Leonhart studied her, clearly about to press further.

But she didn't give him the chance.

She gave a small, respectful bow of her head. "If there's nothing else, I should return."

Without waiting, she turned and walked back, her steps quiet and controlled, stopping behind Alaric once more.

Back when she had served near the Crown Prince's Wing, she had watched Leonhart carefully.

He was curious by nature, always wanting to understand more than he was told.

So she had given him just enough, leaving space for questions, drawing him in. And just as his curiosity began to deepen again, she cut it off.

He wouldn't let that go. He would think about it, dwell on it, carry it with him until the next time they met.

And when that moment came, he would seek her out again.

When Iris came to a stop behind Alaric, that same feeling crept over her again, someone watching her.

This time it was sharper, heavier, impossible to ignore, cold and clinging, like a presence that wouldn't shake loose no matter how hard she tried.

She frowned ever so slightly, keeping her gaze lowered as she scanned the surroundings from the corner of her eye.

Attendants moved about their duties. Nobles chatted over wine or watched the musicians perform from the raised gallery.

Nothing seemed out of place.

Could someone be lingering out of sight?

Still, she knew her own standing. She wasn't someone who drew attention. These nobles had seen beauty far beyond anything she could offer.

So why her?

She couldn't make sense of it.

Not far off, Albert sat distracted, barely touching the pastries and spiced wine laid out before him.