Awakening Love: Reborn to Be His Duchess Chapter 98: Shall We Continue Tonight?

Of course.

She was utterly guileless, understanding nothing. What had he been expecting?

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. "Very well."

Elowen promptly disappeared into the kitchen.

...

Alaric's abdominal pain had kept him unconscious for much of the day. By evening, the worst of it had finally subsided.

Following the royal physician's instructions, he was allowed simple, easily digestible food.

Yet, nothing the servants brought stirred his appetite.

"Your Highness, please, eat something. You haven't had a thing all day," a servant pleaded.

"Take it away," Alaric said, his face expressionless.

The servant dropped to his knees, nearly weeping. "This is the fifth dish the kitchens have prepared, Your Highness! If you touch none of it, Her Majesty will have my hide!"

Alaric glanced at him, a rare flicker of sympathy crossing his features.

Seizing on that slight softening, the servant asked tearfully, "Is there anything you crave? Name it, and I will have the kitchens make it at once."

Alaric's throat worked. The words slipped out almost against his will. "Tart."

"Pardon, Your Highness?"

"Herb-crusted savory tart."

Alaric's brow furrowed.

Elowen used to make them for him. He could always eat two whole ones.

She would always ask, hopeful, "Are they good?"

He, thinking her too proud, needing her spirit tempered, would deliberately scowl and declare them flavorless, dreadful.

Now, thinking back, it seemed an age since she had last baked those tarts for him. Looking at the dry, crumbly pastry on the table, a strange, sharp pang of regret twisted inside him.

But then another thought occurred: she must have stopped making them because her skills had declined. No way she'd be making them over at Duskmoor Manor for Cassian.

And even if she were, a man as aloof and refined as Cassian would never deign to eat more than a single, polite slice.

...

Elowen had been busy for quite some time. When she emerged, a kitchen boy followed, carrying a large ceramic platter piled high with golden-brown tarts.

She served Cassian a slice herself, her heart fluttering nervously as she watched him lift a forkful to his mouth.

She had once believed her herb-crusted savory tarts were among her finest dishes, impossible to dislike.

Until Alaric.

Every time she asked, he would coldly declare them tasteless.

It had eroded her confidence so deeply she had never dared bake them again... until today.

Holding her breath, she asked, "...Are they good?"

"Delicious," Cassian replied without hesitation.

Then, he proceeded to eat two full slices.

For the first time in recent memory, he felt genuinely, pleasantly full, sitting back in his chair in a slight daze.

Thinking he was merely being polite, Elowen turned to Bran. "Would you like some? I made plenty."

Bran looked to Cassian.

Cassian gave a slight nod. "If you wish."

So Bran tried a slice.

Then he ate three.

In the eight years since joining the household, living in comfort with ample food and warmth, this was the first time he had eaten to the point of pleasant stupor.

Standing beside the wheelchair, one hand on his rounded belly, he gave Elowen a thumbs-up with the other. "Your Grace, these tarts are incredible! The herb-infused flaky crust, the rich, earthy filling—truly the best in all the kingdoms!"

Elowen smiled, a little abashed. But a small piece of her long-lost confidence seemed to drift back into place.

"I know how to make many other kinds of tarts, all quite good," she said brightly. "My lord, if you like them, I could make them for you every day."

She looked at Cassian expectantly. "Would that make you happy?"

Cassian, feeling pleasantly lethargic from the meal, murmured, "Not bad."

Elowen blinked. "Then... shall we continue tonight?"

Cassian paused, the lazy contentment evaporating. He said nothing.

Thinking he hadn't heard, Elowen repeated cheerfully, "My lord, I will certainly continue striving to make you happy tonight."

Bran's eyes widened comically beside them.

A sharp glance from Cassian silenced him. "Still staring? Duties all finished?"

Bran grinned. "Right. I'll be off then."

Watching him leave, Elowen asked curiously, "Why did you send him away? It might have been fun to have him here later."

"You wanted Bran to watch later?" he asked slowly.

Elowen tilted her head. "Is that not allowed? It's more lively with company."

"Lively is a consideration for this sort of thing?" Was she suggesting Bran cheer from the sidelines?

"It was like that in my family home..." Elowen murmured, then quickly brightened. "But just the two of us is fine too! That way, we can concentrate properly on where to place the pieces."

Cassian finally sensed a disconnect. "Place the pieces?"

"Yes." Elowen nodded. "Playing chess with you, my lord."

Cassian stilled. "...Chess."

A faint, almost imperceptible thread of disappointment colored his tone.