"Come to the kitchen with me," Kaian suggested, a mischievous glint in his red eyes.
"The kitchen?" I was startled. "It's the middle of the night."
"You're hungry but don't want to wake the servants. So you have no choice but to find something yourself."
His logic was impeccable, but the premise was wrong. "I've never been inside the kitchen."
"Never?"
I shook my head. As the Duke of Vermont's daughter, I'd been carefully sheltered. Castle Valmonde operated differently from other noble estates—its kitchen was less a household facility and more an industrial operation feeding soldiers and staff. An unmarried lady didn't belong in such spaces.
Even when dining with the Duke and Duchess, food had simply appeared before me. Hannah managed any small requests. My uncle had placed tremendous importance on propriety and reputation.
"You grew up well," Kaian observed.
I was indignant at the implication. "And you didn't?"
"Of course I did." He smiled, his answer so casually confident it felt hollow.
The truth was, I'd been confined—first by uncertainty in Vermont, then by illness at Rowen. Even now, pregnant though I was, I'd only explored a few rooms. The morning sickness the doctor had finally diagnosed explained my nausea and weakness. Once I'd begun eating regularly again, the symptoms had mostly subsided.
My stomach gurgled audibly.
Kaian dressed me in a thin robe over my nightgown, then guided me to the oil lamp by the bedroom entrance. The brighter light felt almost sacred in the darkness.
"Let's go," he said, offering his hand.
I took it, stepping into the shadowed hallway.
This late-night venture felt like an adventure. The familiar castle transformed into something mysterious, and walking beside Kaian through the darkness made my heart race.
*Why am I this excited just to go to the kitchen?*
But I knew the answer. It was his hand in mine. The way he led me somewhere new. The sense that in this moment, there were no worries, no secrets—just a man concerned that I not stumble in the darkness.
*I really do like him. I'm just weak.*
The realization made me pathetic. I'd be happy following him anywhere, doing whatever he wanted. My love for him was like being trapped in a tightly sealed paper bag—concealed, suffocating, inescapable.
And when our eyes met, he seemed to read every hidden emotion.
*I should stop feeling this way.*
But I couldn't. Instead, I focused on the baby—Hope or Miracle, I hadn't decided which name suited better. Perhaps Kaian's love could become hope for my child. Or perhaps conceiving after Herzol had nearly destroyed that possibility was the miracle itself.
*Either way, I'm being greedy.*
God's scales were fair. Those who wanted too much were punished.
Yet I couldn't help praying that my long years of deprivation might earn some compassion from the heavens.
---
We reached the main staircase. Kaian lifted the oil lamp, then lifted me into his arms.
"You trust me?" he asked softly.
"Always," I whispered.
He descended with easy confidence, set me down gently, then reclaimed the lamp.
"The real adventure begins at the kitchen," he promised.
---
The kitchen fire had been banked for the night, but embers glowed red beneath ash, offering a warm greeting.
"Let's see what the chef is hiding," Kaian said with a grin that suggested this wasn't his first late-night raid.
The kitchen was remarkably sophisticated—a long central table, walls lined with sauces and spices, a ventilation window, and the cooking pit.
Kaian searched with purpose, then held up a prize. "This will do."
"What is it?"
"Dried bacon the chef has been hoarding." He began gathering potatoes as well, humming softly.
*He looks good doing everything.*
Rolled sleeves, casual grace, complete confidence—he moved through the kitchen like he owned it. Which, technically, he did.
"How do you know how to cook?" I asked as he cut a potato in half, placing both into a pan.
"I wasn't always at war."
"You're impressive because there's nothing you can't do."
He paused at my words. "Are you confessing now?"
The question struck like a blade. "No," I said coldly. "You said you didn't like me. Remember?"
*How long will he speak so indifferently after rejecting me?*
He simply took the pan to the banked coals, carefully positioning it on the warmest part of the ash bed. The bacon sizzled, the potato began to brown, and the kitchen filled with rich, savory aroma.
As he retrieved the finished dish, the golden potato and crispy bacon glistened with rendered fat.
I looked at it sadly. "You hate me."
"What?" He seemed genuinely confused.
"You do everything. You cook, you lead armies, you understand succession strategy, you know every corner of the castle. You're perfect." I met his eyes. "And you don't love me."
Kaian set the pan down carefully. For a moment, he simply studied my face.
"Claudel." He stepped toward me. "I said I didn't like you to protect myself. Because what I actually feel—" He stopped, seeming to war with something. "It's terrifying. You're Vermont's blood. You could betray everything. And yet..."
"And yet?" I held my breath.
"And yet when you're not beside me, I can't concentrate on anything. When you're hurting, I burn. When you smile, I—" He stopped, frustrated with himself.
"You what?" I whispered.
"I want to do this forever," he said quietly. "Bring you to kitchens at midnight. Feed you. Watch you eat. Hold your hand in the dark. I want all of it. Forever."
My heart stopped.
"So when you say I hate you, you're wrong." He cupped my face gently. "I'm terrified of what I feel. But I don't hate you, Claudel. I could never hate you."
For the first time since that devastating conversation weeks ago, I allowed myself to hope.
He leaned down and kissed me softly, there in the kitchen surrounded by the smell of bacon and baked potato.
"Come. Eat. We need to keep you and our baby healthy."
The word *our* shattered something I'd been carefully holding together.
"Our baby?" I whispered against his lips.
"Hope," he said. "That's what I want to call her. Because that's what you are to me. The only hope I have."
---