Tristan glanced at Aria, who was focused on cooking at the stove, as he set down the stack of firewood on the ground.
Rayan followed closely behind, carrying another stack of firewood in one hand and a basket brimming with fresh vegetables and fruits in the other. As he entered the hut, he noticed Tristan's unwavering gaze fixed on Aria. A deep frown creased his forehead; he had hoped to keep her out of Tristan's scrutiny.
"Tristan," Rayan called, stepping forward to stand in front of him, effectively blocking his line of sight.
"Yes, My Lord!" Tristan replied immediately, his tone indicating he was ready to comply with whatever Rayan needed.
"Stop staring at her. She will feel uncomfortable," Rayan said firmly, his eyes narrowing.
"Ohh..." Tristan responded, his brow knitting in confusion.
Nevertheless, he turned his gaze away from Aria, redirecting his attention to the interior of the hut. Rayan moved toward Aria to help her.
Taking a seat near her, Rayan began sorting through the vegetables and fruits in the basket, trying to help her with the preparations. Aria glanced at him for a brief moment before looking away, her thoughts swirling with uncertainty.
"Should it be this way?"
She heard him say something. Of course, she didn't understand, so she had to look towards him. Rayan was gesturing towards the cut vegetables.
She merely nodded. Satisfied, Rayan continued. Just like that, he seriously helped Aria with everything she was doing.
Tristan, who finished looking around, noticed this and gaped.
"My Lord! Why must you do this? Let me do it!" He exclaimed and tried to take the knife away from Rayan.
His master was served by uncountable servants in his manor. When had he done such work with them being around him! They respected him too much to let him do such things. But Rayan frowned at him and avoided his hand.
"Just sit silently there."
Rayan frowned at Tristan, avoiding his hand. "Just sit silently there," he instructed, his tone bordering on an order.
"But My Lord, if it's about helping the lady, I can do it. You should rest," Tristan insisted, but Rayan's response was cold, irritation seeping into his voice.
"Don't irritate me."
With those words, Tristan felt a wave of disappointment wash over him. Unable to argue further, he turned away, feeling a stifled heartache as he watched Rayan chop vegetables. His master's hands, capable of defeating the fiercest foes, were now engaged in such mundane tasks.
It felt wrong to him—those hands were made for battlefield, not for the kitchen.
As Tristan wrestled with his emotions, Aria battled her own. Tears threatened to spill over as she kept her head down, trying to process her feelings.
Why would Rayan choose to stay with her who was so fragile and unworthy?
Realizing she couldn't hold back her tears any longer, Aria reached for an onion, forcing herself to chop it in an effort to distract from the swell of emotions. Rayan observed her, confused. The vegetable soup was already simmering on the stove, and he wondered if onions were necessary. He decided against questioning her, at least until he noticed the tears silently falling from her eyes.
A deep frown crossed his face as he took the knife from her hands, disregarding all notions of traditional etiquette.
"Let me do it," he said firmly.
Aria looked up, surprised. Rayan had already started chopping the onions, deftly handling the knife. After slicing a couple, he paused and asked,
"Do you need more?"
Aria wiped her tears, her eyes slightly red, and looked at him in confusion. She didn't understand his question. More than that, she was baffled by the fact that he wasn't crying while chopping onions. Why was he different? Even her grandmother had shed tears during such a simple task.
Suddenly, the dam broke, and Aria sobbed, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. Rayan was taken aback, bewildered by this unexpected outburst.
"Wh... what happened?!" he stammered.
The knight who had never panicked at the sight of thousands of soldiers in the battlefield, panicked at the sight of tears.
Tristan, who had been sitting a short distance away, was immediately concerned for Rayan. Hearing his master's voice filled with distress, he rushed over.
"My Lord! What happened?" he asked, approaching them with a furrowed brow.
"I... don't know," Rayan replied, confusion mingling with concern as he looked at the distraught Aria.
In an attempt to comfort her, he held up the chopped onions. "Is it wrong? Don't cry. I'll chop them again," he assured her, picking up fresh onions to begin chopping once more.
But as Rayan resumed chopping, Aria only cried louder in response. He stopped abruptly, feeling a mix of embarrassment and helplessness as she cupped her mouth, trying to stifle her sobs.
At that moment, Tristan, still trying to make sense of the situation, spoke up again.
"My Lord... what happened?" His confusion deepened as he glanced between Rayan and Aria.
Hearing Tristan's voice, Aria looked up at him, and new tears brimmed in her eyes. She sobbed again. Rayan noticed this.
"Go out right now!" he ordered Tristan sharply.
Tristan, caught off guard, hesitated. "But My Lord—"
"Out right now, Tristan!" Rayan snapped, his voice leaving no room for argument.
The command was so intense that Tristan, feeling a sense of urgency, darted outside the hut as if his tail was on fire.
YOU ARE READING
Allure Of The Witch
Historical Fiction"I...I have been nothing but trouble for you. Leave me to the same place from where you brought me." A tear rolled down her eye as she whispered in a low voice laden with despair. At that moment, he had walked to her, held her face, wiped her tears...
