Fated Hearts: Reborn to be His Duchess

Chapter 98: Chapter 98: A Spark Rekindled

"Great! I’ll definitely make you happy, my lord!" Elysia promised.

Cassiel paused.

Once again, her words led his mind to drift into dangerous territory. He wondered if she had any idea how that sounded.

Then he caught himself.

Of course not.

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

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.

Very well.

Elysia promptly disappeared into the kitchen.

---

Meanwhile, Vaelen’s abdominal pain had kept him unconscious for most of the day. By evening, the worst of it had finally subsided. Following the royal physician’s instructions, he was allowed only 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," Vaelen said flatly.

The servant nearly burst into tears and dropped to his knees.

"This is the fifth dish the kitchens have prepared, Your Highness! If you refuse to touch any of it, Her Majesty will have my hide!"

Vaelen glanced at him.

A rare flicker of sympathy crossed his otherwise expressionless face.

Seizing the opportunity, the servant asked hopefully, "Is there anything you crave? Just name it, and I’ll have the kitchens prepare it immediately."

Vaelen’s throat moved.

The answer slipped out almost against his will.

"Tart..."

"Pardon, Your Highness?"

"Herb-crusted savoury tart."

Vaelen frowned slightly.

Elysia used to make them for him.

He could easily eat two whole tarts at a time. She would always watch him with hopeful eyes and ask, "Are they good?"

And he, thinking she was too proud and needed her spirit tempered, would deliberately scowl and declare that they were tasteless.

Dreadful, even.

Now, looking back, it seemed like an age since she had last baked those tarts for him.

His gaze fell to the dry, crumbly pastry sitting untouched on the table.

A strange, sharp pang of regret twisted through him.

But then another thought occurred to him.

She must have stopped making them because her skills had declined.

There was no way she would still be making them at Draevenor Manor for Cassiel.

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

That thought somehow made the bitterness in his chest easier to bear.

---

Elysia had been busy for quite some time.

When she finally emerged from the kitchen, a young kitchen boy followed behind her, carefully carrying a large ceramic platter piled high with golden-brown tarts.

The aroma filled the room.

Elysia personally placed a slice before Cassiel.

Her heart fluttered nervously as she watched him lift his fork.

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

That was till she made them for Vaelen.

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

Over time, his words had eroded her confidence so thoroughly that she had never dared make them again.

Until today.

Holding her breath, she asked softly,

"...Are they good?"

"Delicious."

Cassiel answered without the slightest hesitation.

Elysia’s eyes widened.

Then, before she could even react, Cassiel took another bite.

And another.

By the time he finished two full slices, he leaned back in his chair, pleasantly full and slightly dazed by how satisfying the meal had been.

Elysia, convinced he was merely being polite, turned toward Bran.

"Would you like some? I made plenty."

Bran looked at Cassiel.

Cassiel gave a slight nod.

"If you wish."

Bran immediately tried a slice.

Then another.

Then a third.

In the eight years since joining the household, he had lived comfortably, with ample food and warmth. Yet this was the first time he had eaten to the point of a pleasant stupor.

Standing beside Cassiel’s wheelchair with one hand resting on his rounded belly, Bran gave Elysia an enthusiastic thumbs-up with the other.

"Your Grace, these tarts are incredible! The herb-infused flaky crust, the rich and earthy filling... Truly, they must be the best in all the kingdoms!"

Elysia smiled, a little embarrassed by the praise.

But somewhere deep inside, a small piece of her long-lost confidence seemed to settle back into place.

"I know how to make many other kinds of tarts," she said brightly. "They’re all quite good."

She turned toward Cassiel.

"My lord, if you like them, I could make them for you every day."

Her eyes were bright with expectation.

"Would that make you happy?"

Cassiel, feeling pleasantly lethargic after the meal, answered lazily,

"Not bad."

Elysia blinked.

Then her smile widened.

"Then..."

"Shall we continue tonight?"

Cassiel froze.

The lazy contentment that had settled over him vanished instantly.

He said nothing.

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

Bran’s eyes widened comically.

A sharp glance from Cassiel silenced him before he could say a word.

Cassiel looked at him coldly.

"Still here? Are all your duties finished?"

Bran immediately grinned.

"Right. I’ll be off, then."

He hurried away.

Elysia watched him leave, then turned back to Cassiel with a puzzled expression.

"Why did you send him away? It might have been fun to have him here later."

Cassiel’s expression became unreadable.

"You wanted Bran to watch later?"

Elysia tilted her head.

"Is that not allowed? It’s more lively with company."

Cassiel stared at her.

"Lively is a consideration for this sort of thing?"

Was she actually suggesting that Bran should cheer from the sidelines?

Elysia seemed to realize he had misunderstood something, but instead of noticing the source of his confusion, she merely murmured, "It was like that in my family home..."

Then her face brightened.

"But just the two of us is fine too! That way, we can concentrate properly on where to place the pieces."

Cassiel finally sensed that something was very wrong.

"Place the pieces?"

"Yes."

Elysia nodded enthusiastically.

"Placing the chess pieces, my lord."

Cassiel went completely still.

"...Chess."

A faint, almost imperceptible thread of disappointment coloured his voice.

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