When Thorn stepped inside, the house was fully lit by the glow of the fireplace.
The main room was not large, but it was carefully arranged.
A wide stone fireplace occupied the center wall, its steady flames casting orange reflections across the low ceiling.
Directly before it stood a large sofa upholstered in dark fabric. Beside it, a smaller couch and a padded armchair angled closer to the warmth. Next to the chair rested a small table topped with an ornate vase—antique in appearance, strangely refined compared to the rest of the modest furniture around it.
Beside the vase sat a small wooden rabbit, carved with delicate precision. Theo had insisted it remain there, almost at the center of the room—as if guarding the warmth.
In the middle stood a low wooden table, its edges carved with simple patterns suited for quiet family evenings. A tea tray rested on top. An empty cup before Ronald. A cup of untouched ginger tea before Sylis. An empty glass of milk.
This was where the family gathered every evening in search of warmth.
Across the room, the long dining table still held the remains of dinner. Some bread untouched. A half-full cup of water.
They had not finished eating.
They were waiting for him.
Sylis sat upright on the large sofa near the fire, her back straight, her hands folded tightly in her lap.
Theo lay beside her, his head resting on her thigh, fighting sleep.
Ronald sat in the armchair closest to the flames, his cane leaning against his leg, his gaze fixed on the door since sunset.
Then—
The sound of the latch turning.
Their heads moved at once.
The door opened.
Thorn entered.
He closed it slowly behind him.
He removed his gloves first and placed them on the small table near the entrance. He did not speak immediately.
Theo sat up.
"Father! You're back?"
Thorn took two steps toward the fire. He tried to smile… but it was dry, more duty than emotion.
He patted his son's head.
"Yes. I'm back."
He looked at Sylis. Then at his father. Then back to Theo.
"Why are you still awake? It's late. You should be in bed by now, Theo."
Thorn was strict about time—especially when it came to his precious child.
Theo lowered his head.
"I just wanted to wait for you, Father."
Thorn exhaled quietly.
"Alright… that's fine."
He did not have the energy to argue.
Theo's disappointment vanished as he remembered the question that mattered most.
"Father, did you go to the palace? Did you see the King?"
"I did."
One word.
Before Theo could continue, Sylis spoke.
She did not smile. She did not move.
"What did His Majesty say?"
Thorn stopped before the fireplace.
He removed his coat and placed it over the back of a nearby chair.
He looked at her deeply.
The look said: Don't ask.
But she had asked. And she was waiting.
"I told him you were ill."
She met his gaze steadily.
"And how did he respond?"
"He said it was unfortunate."
A brief silence.
Then he added clearly:
"He declared that you are on medical leave for one week. Paid leave."
Sylis's fingers shifted slightly against her dress.
"Declared?"
"Yes. He said it as a decision—not a suggestion."
She understood.
It was no longer merely an excuse between them.
The King had made it official.
"Did he believe you?" she asked more quietly.
This time, Thorn looked at her directly.
"He did not question it."
"That is not an answer."
He inhaled slowly.
"He did not doubt me publicly."
The sentence was precise. Too precise.
His father spoke for the first time.
"Will he leave it at that?"
Thorn shook his head slowly.
"No."
Silence fell.
Then he said plainly:
"He will send another invitation. This time, he wants the entire family."
Sylis's eyes widened slightly.
"When?"
"He did not specify. But he said he wants to see all of us."
Theo looked between them.
"Me too?"
Thorn knelt before his son, softening his voice.
"Yes. He asked about you specifically."
Theo raised his brows in childish surprise.
"Why?"
Thorn paused.
"He said he was curious. He asked your age."
Sylis looked at him sharply.
"And what did you say?"
"I told him you are four."
"Did he ask anything else?"
"He said children at that age speak clearly."
The silence grew heavier.
Ronald tapped his cane lightly against the floor.
"That is not innocent curiosity."
Thorn did not disagree.
Sylis stood and stepped closer.
"Thorn… look at me."
He did.
"Did he imply anything?"
"No."
"Did he threaten you?"
"No."
"Then why do you look like that?"
His jaw tightened.
"Because he did not need to."
She held his gaze.
"Do you know why His Majesty suddenly became interested in us?"
He did not answer.
"Is it about you?"
"No."
"Is it about me?"
He did not smile. He did not evade.
"Yes."
The word fell clear.
Calm.
Honest.
Theo began drifting to sleep again, unaware of what was unfolding.
Thorn lifted him into his arms. The boy wrapped himself around his father's neck with complete trust.
Sylis spoke softly.
"What should I do now?"
"Stay home."
"As if I'm truly ill?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Until I know what he truly wants."
His father added quietly:
"His Majesty does not knock twice… unless he intends to enter."
No one replied.
The fire suddenly flared higher, then settled again.
Thorn looked once more at the door.
"Tomorrow… he may send something."
It was not a guess.
It was a feeling.
And the night was not yet over.
A Morning Visit
Morning did not arrive with warmth.
The sky was gray, and the light that slipped through the windows looked pale—as if it did not wish to enter fully.
In the small kitchen, Sylis stood near the stove.
A pot of water simmered gently, the scent of herbs spreading through the air—a simple performance of illness.
Theo sat on the floor near the table, playing with the same wooden rabbit he had insisted remain at the center of the room. He moved it across the tiles like a small knight.
Ronald sat at the table reading an old newspaper, though he had not turned the page for several minutes.
Thorn stood by the window.
Looking at the street.
He was not waiting for something specific.
But he was waiting.
Then—
The sound of carriage wheels over gravel.
Not loud.
But not passing.
Thorn stopped breathing for a second.
The carriage halted before the house.
A knock at the door.
Not violent.
Measured.
Official.
Ronald moved first, but Thorn gestured lightly for him to remain seated.
He went to the door.
Opened it.
Two men stood outside.
One wore a dark formal coat, a small silver insignia pinned to his chest.
The other carried an elegant wooden box.
The first bowed with practiced precision.
"Good morning, Baron Thorn."
His voice was polite… more than necessary.
"I am the palace physician. I have come by order of His Majesty to examine Lady Sylis's health."
Nothing changed on Thorn's face.
But his hand tightened slightly around the door handle.
"That will not be necessary."
A faint smile appeared on the physician's lips.
"His Majesty insisted."
A pause.
Then he added smoothly:
"A paid medical leave requires official follow-up."
Official.
The word fell clearly.
From inside the house, Theo's voice called out:
"Father? Who is it?"
The physician glanced inside lightly.
Smiled.
"And it seems there is a small gift as well."
He gestured to the second man.
The wooden box was delicately carved—not ostentatious, but certainly not something bought in an ordinary market.
"From His Majesty," the physician said lightly.
"For the child."
Thorn did not move.
One second.
Two.
Then he opened the door wider.
"Enter."
The palace had arrived.
---
The physician sat before Sylis after she refused to lie down.
"Just a few routine questions, my lady."
His voice was polite… excessively so.
He took her wrist gently, measuring her pulse.
His eyes were not watching her hand alone—they were studying her face.
"Have you experienced dizziness recently?"
A brief silence.
Before she could answer, Thorn said in a carefully controlled tone,
"She was tired yesterday."
The physician did not look at him.
His gaze remained on Sylis.
"Morning dizziness?"
Her fingers trembled slightly.
"Sometimes."
He noted something in his small leather book.
"Nausea? Loss of appetite? Unusual fatigue?"
The air grew heavier.
Thorn's jaw tightened.
"Fatigue is natural. She has been working long hours."
The physician smiled faintly.
"Of course."
Then he returned his attention directly to her.
"And since when have you been feeling this way?"
She hesitated.
A moment longer than necessary.
"For… a few days."
A small lie.
Not entirely false.
But not honest either.
The physician noticed.
So did Thorn.
Another note in the book.
Then the physician spoke evenly:
"Rest is essential. In some cases… fatigue can indicate the beginning of a new physical stage."
He said no more.
He did not need to.
Thorn slowly turned toward Sylis.
"A new stage?"
The physician smiled without answering directly.
"The body often announces matters before its owner does."
Silence.
The fireplace crackled softly.
Theo, who had been playing with the newly gifted wooden horse, suddenly ran toward the physician.
"Does His Majesty like children, sir?"
The physician turned to him.
He bent slightly to meet his height.
Studied him a moment longer than appropriate.
Then said gently:
"His Majesty appreciates intelligent children."
His gaze lifted to Thorn.
"And the boy… resembles his father very much."
The sentence was simple.
But not innocent.
At last, the physician stood.
Closed his book.
"There is nothing alarming at present."
A short pause.
"However, I strongly advise complete rest. And notification… should there be any change."
Notification.
The word fell clearly.
He bowed and departed.
The empty box remained on the table.
The wooden horse rolled across the floor on its hidden wheels.
The door closed.
Silence.
Thorn turned slowly toward Sylis.
He was not angry.
But his eyes were no longer calm.
"Since when?"
He asked quietly.
This time, she did not avoid his gaze.
"I don't know."
"Sylis."
Only one word.
Sharp.
"It was delayed… a little."
The silence that followed did not belong to them alone.
Something else stood in the room now.
Thorn's eyes lowered—
to her abdomen.
Then to the door the physician had just exited through.
Then back to her.
"And you did not tell me?"
She whispered:
"Because I am not certain."
The fire dimmed slightly.
The wooden horse came to a stop.
Outside, the wheels of the palace carriage rolled away slowly.
But something of it…
remained.