Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, spilling across the cold marble floor of Euphemia's chamber. A soft, insistent knocking at the door stirred her from slumber.
"Lady Euphemia, it is time to rise," one of the maids said, her voice clipped, carrying the usual icy edge she reserved for their young mistress. Two others lingered, expressionless, watching her with the habitual mixture of duty and disdain.
Euphemia stretched under her covers, yawning slightly. A month had passed since Noah had been assigned as her knight, and despite his quiet, serious demeanor, she had grown accustomed to his presence. His steady, unflinching companionship had become a comfort—an unexpected warmth in her cold household.
"Thank you," she said softly, though her words were more a habit than a reflection of any real warmth. The maids exchanged a glance but said nothing further.
"You are summoned," another maid continued, her tone almost mechanical. "The patriarch has requested your presence in his office. You must prepare immediately."
Euphemia's eyes drifted to the window, the morning breeze ruffling the sheer curtains. It had been a year since she last saw her father, a year in which his gaze had been as distant and cold as ever. Her mother—the duke's second wife—had died soon after giving birth to her, leaving Euphemia with little more than a title and the weight of expectation.
She sighed, pulling herself from the bed. "Another day, another summons," she murmured to herself. Her fingers lingered over the polished wood of her desk for a moment, and then she moved to her wardrobe.
By the time she finished dressing, her hair pinned back elegantly, she found Noah standing just outside her door, armor gleaming faintly in the morning light, posture impeccable as ever.
"Good morning, Lady Euphemia," he said in his usual calm, measured tone.
Euphemia smirked, an impish spark lighting her golden eyes. "Ah, my ever-dutiful knight. You've grown stiff just standing there like that, haven't you? Surely you can't resist teasing me with such perfect posture."
Noah's jaw twitched. "I am sworn to protect you, Lady Euphemia. I do not tease."
"Mm-hmm," she said, stepping past him lightly, brushing close enough to ruffle the edge of his armor. "Then I suppose I shall put your loyalty to the test. I am going to see the patriarch."
Noah inclined his head slightly. "Very well. I will accompany you."
Euphemia's golden eyes softened, just for a fraction of a second, as she walked. He was always there, silent and vigilant. Her thoughts wandered back to the loneliness of her childhood: born to a mother she never truly knew, the second wife of a distant duke, left with little more than her title and the cold regard of the patriarch.
"You know," she said, lowering her voice as they descended the grand staircase, "my mother… she was the duke's second wife. She died shortly after I was born. I suppose that's why… I've always felt a little out of place here. Everyone treats me like I'm fragile, or worse, useless."
Noah's steady eyes met hers, showing no shock, only quiet understanding. "That… must have been difficult," he said softly.
Euphemia smiled faintly, a mixture of mischief and melancholy. "Perhaps. But at least now I have you, Noah. The knight who can endure my teasing, it seems."
Noah's lips twitched ever so slightly, though he made no other response. And for Euphemia, that quiet acknowledgment was enough.
As they approached the patriarch's office, her mind wandered between duty and the strange comfort of Noah's presence. One month had passed since he became her knight—but already, she could not imagine moving through these cold halls without him by her side.