Vivid | Lee Minho

•Scene 7•

Much like the last time, your attendants refused you your right of doing-anything-useful while you recovered. Nonetheless, you could only feel thankful for their care. It was not their doing that found you injured and bruised, after all.

The physician that saw to your treatment had declared that you suffered a light concussion and were to rest for no less than a week. So, you were not allowed to leave your chambers by your handmaidens, who seemed to be fiercer than knights in their determination.

You lounged on one of the couches in your sitting room, a half-finished embroidery canvas in your hands. Needlework was one of the many skills your mother had taught you, for it was one of her favored hobbies. Since it was not a ledger, nor did it require you to move around, your attendants allowed you to embroider to pass the time.

The repetitive movement of the needle was calming. In and out, through and through in intricate patterns. You could understand why your mother loved it so.

But, the pastime was not enough to distract you from the world around you. The festival was on its last day, and you were cooped up inside. Though you delegated most of your work to Sycross, ever so dependable, there was yet much to be done. Estate management, trial operations, and there was the pesky issue of the Crown prince.

Minho did not tell you much about the investigations he was carrying out, but you knew that they had captured one of the Prince's subordinates. A member of the Order, you suspected. Under Felix's competent eye, they kept him alive. For what reason, you were unsure, but you supposed he would prove useful in Valorieve's plans to take down the Prince.

Speaking of which, your husband was a rare sight to spot during the past week. He was swamped with so much work that you supposed it made sense. The aftermath of the incident at the festival was discreet yet extensive. Fortunately, there were no casualties, but there were other losses that demanded his attention. For such an event to even occur was wounding to the guard body of Adorance, an oversight that could not be permitted to repeat itself.

But you were not stupid. Minho had developed a habit of only entering your shared rooms deep into the night and leaving much before you awakened. He finished his meals as though in a rush to be elsewhere, and barely met your gaze when you found the chance to speak to him.

He was avoiding you, and it was as clear as the neat stitches on your canvas. It made you uneasy.

The canary you were embroidering stared at you, half-feathered and bead-eyed as you appraised your job. It felt as though it were mocking you with its empty gaze for feeling the way you did. Minho was finally distancing himself from you, should you not have been glad? Was this not what you wanted from the start?

A knock sounded at the door, soft enough that it did not startle you.

"Come in," you answered, a twinge of hope pitching your voice high as Ryujin hurried to open the door.

You were ashamed of the secret disappointment that tightened your chest when your butler stepped through. The hope that it would be Minho was foolish, anyway.

"I have brought your tea, my lady," Sycross announced. A silver tray that held a precious tea set expertly balanced on his hand as he maneuvered through the spacious room. It was his newly acquired routine to bring you teas and nag at you to not overexert yourself at random intervals of the day. Your mother may have been far away in Lurmuse, but it seemed that Sycross was there to act like one in her stead.

"Thank you." the smile you managed was but a mask, empty and false. But it seemed not to fool Sycross, whose eyebrows furrowed in sympathy as he set the tray on the nearby tea table. He too must have noticed the shift in Minho's behavior after the incident, for he served you closely.