Sardin.
A slave of northern origin, brought to the estate by Cornelia herself.
Normally, Eric wouldn't have spared a second glance for someone like Sardin. But today, his mood was foul, and the sight of the man lingering by Cornelia’s side like a faithful dog grated on his nerves.
“Entering without knocking is a grave discourtesy.”
Eric’s voice was like a lash, cold enough to send a shiver down a normal man's spine. But the brown-haired young man didn't even flinch.
“I apologize, Your Grace.”
The apology did little to soften Eric’s expression. “What could possibly justify such impudence?”
“I only came to offer my congratulations to my lady on the news of her pregnancy. I meant no offense.”
Eric’s eyes narrowed. He had personally seen to it that the staff who overheard the announcement were silenced, yet it was clear Cornelia had already shared the news with her slave.
*Congratulations? This piece of filth...*
Under normal circumstances, a slave was a non-entity, a shadow that moved when told. But today, Sardin’s presence felt like a deliberate provocation. Eric felt a sudden, visceral urge to remove him from his sight permanently.
He grabbed the slave by his collar, his grip tight and aggressive.
“She doesn’t need your congratulations. Get out before I—”
“What is all this noise?”
The sound of Cornelia’s voice broke the tension. Seeing that she was awake, Eric released the slave’s collar and straightened his jacket.
“Your slave seems to lack even the most basic manners,” he said, his voice low.
Cornelia didn't miss a beat. “Kneel, Sardin.”
The young man dropped to his knees instantly. Cornelia looked down at him, her expression unreadable.
“What are you doing? Apologize to my husband at once.”
Sardin hesitated for a fraction of a second before bowing his head low. “My deepest apologies, Your Excellency.”
“Tell me what you did wrong,” Cornelia prompted.
“I was disrespectful. I entered this room without knocking, disturbing the peace.”
“And why were you here?”
“I... I wished to congratulate you on your pregnancy, my lady.”
“I see. In the future, you will knock. Is that clear?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Cornelia turned back to Eric, her gaze challenging. “Is that enough? He has apologized and promised it won't happen again.”
She was right. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't even worth an argument. But seeing her defend the man only stoked the fire of Eric's resentment. He knew his anger was irrational, born of a frustration he couldn't name.
“See that you teach him properly from now on,” Eric said coldly.
He turned on his heel and marched out of the room, his jaw tight. As he headed toward his office, the image of Sardin’s unwavering gaze stayed with him. The slave was annoying, yes, but there was a more pressing matter to attend to.
The moment he entered his office, he summoned Haight, his most trusted informant and assistant.
“Find out everything you can about a man named Damian,” Eric ordered.
***
Back in the room, I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“What a fool,” I muttered. “Getting so worked up over nothing.”
I was cursing Eric under my breath, but my hands were still shaking. I knew how easily Eric could have ended Sardin's life with a single word. He was clearly taking out his anger over my "affair" on the only available target.
I looked at Sardin, my heart heavy with guilt for putting him in such a position.
“My lady, are you alright?”
He was still on his knees, moving closer to check on me. I offered him a small, weary smile.
*Always so considerate.*
Sardin was a handsome man with ash-brown hair and grey eyes. I had found him years ago in the arena, a gladiator slave who had been passed over by every knight. I remember being struck by his stubbornness; even when battered by men twice his size, he had refused to stay down.
But if I were honest, it was his hair that had truly caught my eye. That particular shade of brown was exactly like the hair of the boy who had brought me flowers all those years ago. In a moment of impulsive sentimentality, I had paid a small fortune to buy him.
"Protect me," I had told him then.
And he had. From that day on, the scarred boy had followed me like a shadow. Even as I grew into a bitter, broken woman, he remained at my side. Back then, I told myself he was only loyal because I provided him with a comfortable life.
But now I know better. Sardin never once betrayed me. He had risked his life to save me and my son while the man I loved was busy hunting us down.
I remembered the night of the rebellion. Eric’s words had been so formal, so carefully indifferent even then. I had tried to tell myself it was a facade, that he still cared for me in some small way.
*But it was all a lie, wasn't it? A way to keep me from suspecting the truth.*
The memory of my son's crying face flashed through my mind, and the old pain flared anew. I looked at Sardin, my voice softening.
"If the Duke looks displeased, you should apologize and leave immediately. Why be so foolishly stubborn?"
Sardin bowed his head even lower. “I am sorry for causing you distress...”
*Damn it.* I was being sharp again. My old habits were hard to break. I hadn't meant to be sarcastic, but the words had come out with that same old forceful edge.
“I’m not blaming you,” I said, trying to steady my tone. “I was only afraid he would take his anger out on you.”
Sardin looked up, his grey eyes wide with surprise. I suppose he had every right to be. In the past, I probably would have used him as a scapegoat to appease Eric’s anger. Back then, Eric was my sun, and I couldn't bear to see anyone—especially a "tool" like Sardin—displease him.
*But I won't do that this time. You’re the one who saved us.*
“What are you waiting for?” I said, more gently now. “Are you planning to stay on your knees all day?”
As he stood up, I noticed the blanket draped over me. “Did you cover me with this?”
“The blanket...? No, my lady. I only just arrived.”
My brow furrowed. *Then it must have been Eric.*
Before I could dwell on it, Sardin spoke again, a small smile touching his lips. “Congratulations on the pregnancy, my lady. I will pray for the child’s health every day.”
It was the first genuine congratulation I had received. Not a cold calculated move or a shock to the system, but a simple, kind wish.
“If you’re going to pray, see that you do it properly,” I said, my voice still carrying a hint of its usual bite, though the malice was gone.
***
The next morning, I woke up much later than usual. I instinctively reached out to the other side of the bed, but the sheets were cold. The bedding hadn't been touched since I first lay down.
*He didn't come back last night.*
In the past, I would have spent the entire night awake, trembling with anxiety as I waited for him. I would have been consumed by fears that he was with another woman, or that he had been injured and would never return. I would wait until I practically fainted from exhaustion.
*I was such a pathetic mother.*
Back then, I had been so grateful when he stayed by my side during my pregnancy. I had mistaken his distance for protective care, thinking he was trying to shield me.
Now, the truth was much clearer. He had hidden my pregnancy from the world to avoid a scandal, and he had never once asked me what I—or the baby—needed.
*If I want something, I’ll just get it myself.*
My mood gradually stabilized as I thought of the future. I would need to find a seamstress soon to begin making maternity clothes and a wardrobe for the baby. I had the means to do it; while the Emperor had been cold toward me, he had never been stingy with money. My dowry had been immense, including a vast amount of gold, fertile land, and three palaces.
In my first life, most of that wealth had been squandered covering for my brother Franz’s "accidents," and the rest had been lost when my villas were burned during the rebellion.
*Not this time.*
A sharp pang of hunger pulled me from my thoughts. There was no point in worrying about the future on an empty stomach. Eric and the Dowager would have finished their breakfast by now. I would eat whatever I pleased.