Two days had passed, and the estate had settled into its quiet rhythm. The sun shone brighter now, brushing the gardens with a soft, warm glow, but inside the house, boredom weighed heavily on Aneria. Three days with the estate under her care—and nothing to entertain her beyond supervising Lyria and Elio—felt endless.
Aneria lounged by the window, chin resting on her hand. Elio was tracing patterns in the dust on the floor, humming a little tune, while Lyria arranged some freshly folded laundry with meticulous care. It was peaceful—but painfully dull.
"I can't take this," Aneria muttered to herself, standing abruptly. Her eyes glimmered with a mischievous spark. "I'm going to the market."
She tiptoed toward the door, heart beating with the thrill of a harmless adventure. She crouched to pick up a small satchel, careful not to wake anyone, and paused to glance back at the children.
Elio, noticing the movement, tilted his head. "Where are you going, Lady Aneria?"
Aneria froze, caught mid-reach. "Ah… um… to check on… the garden?" Her voice squeaked slightly.
From the hallway, a familiar voice rang out. "Lady Aneria… where do you think you're sneaking off to?"
She spun around. Sasha, ever watchful, arms crossed, raised a brow. "And what is this? Off on an adventure, are we? You won't go far without me, missy."
Aneria's ears turned pink. "Uh… to… check on… the garden's… uh… pastry plants?"
Sasha let out a short laugh. "Pastry plants, hm? Very well, little gardener, but I shall not let you wander alone. Off we go—together."
Aneria huffed, crossing her arms in mock indignation. "Busted. You're ruining my grand escape!"
"Grand escape, my foot," Sasha replied, tugging gently at her sleeve. "One cannot sneak past me so easily. Come along."
Lyria and Elio soon joined the group, curious eyes wide. "We can come too, Lady Aneria?" Elio asked, hopeful.
Aneria's face softened immediately. "Of course. I suppose the market will be more fun with my little assistants." She crouched, ruffling his hair affectionately, then smoothed Lyria's neatly braided hair. "And you, my dear, must learn the proper way to taste pastries before serving them to the household."
The children giggled, following her lead. Sasha shook her head, muttering, "You are impossible, Mistress, always leading them into trouble. Best I keep a close eye."
By the time they reached the bustling streets, Aneria had taken up the role of a protective, doting big sister—or perhaps surrogate mother—guiding the children through the crowded market. She clasped Elio's hand and let Lyria walk close beside her, occasionally lifting the younger boy to peer over a stall.
The sweet aroma of freshly baked pastries drew them like a magnet. Aneria led the children and a small group of guards to the famous café known for its flaky tarts and sugared confections.
"I get the biggest one!" Elio declared, pointing to a tart almost as big as his face.
"Patience, little one," Aneria said, trying to keep a straight face. "We must decide fairly. Lyria, choose carefully—don't be distracted by the shiny frosting."
Lyria bit her lip, concentration etched on her face. "I… I like this one!" She held up a modest pastry, eyes shining with pride.
Elio pouted dramatically, "That's not fair! I wanted the one with sprinkles!"
Aneria laughed, pressing a finger to his cheek. "You'll live, little warrior. Sprinkles aren't everything."
Elio's bottom lip trembled, then he sneezed—flinging a tiny puff of powdered sugar onto Aneria's nose. She froze, then made a perfect pout, cross-eyed and trembling her lip just like a five-year-old.
"Hey! That's cheating!" she squeaked, smearing a little on her cheek.
Lyria giggled, almost toppling off her chair trying not to laugh. Elio clutched his sides, giggling uncontrollably.
Sasha leaned on the counter, shaking her head. "I do not envy these poor bakers, Mistress. You and your charges could eat the entire tray and still want more."
Aneria wiped the sugar off, then pretended to dramatically faint onto the table, making the children shriek in laughter. "Oh, the treachery! They attack with sugar from all sides!"
"I'm the mature one here," she said with a mock bow, "clearly superior in wit, wisdom, and pastry distribution."
The children erupted into more laughter, crumbs scattering over the table. Even the guards couldn't hide their smiles.
When it was time to leave, the carriage ride back was anything but quiet. Elio poked at Lyria, trying to make her laugh, while Lyria retaliated by gently tossing a napkin at him, which bounced off his head.
"Hey! I shall declare war!" Elio shouted, leaning forward, and nearly tipped his little seat—but Aneria caught him just in time, hugging him close.
"Peace, little warriors," she scolded gently, though her eyes twinkled. "Or the war shall be lost to napkin tyranny!"
Lyria collapsed into giggles beside her, pointing at Elio. "He is too dramatic!"
Sasha, sitting opposite them, shook her head, a small smile on her lips. "The little ones may be trouble, Mistress, but you… you are the storm that follows."
Aneria chuckled, ruffling Lyria's hair. "They are my treasures. I will not let a hair be out of place—or a crumb go unguarded."
The carriage rattled over the cobblestones as they passed through the remaining market streets. Merchants called out, selling fruits, textiles, and small trinkets, but one stall made Aneria freeze mid-seat. Several merchants had begun displaying medicinal herbs and tonics, their strong aroma immediately familiar.
A sudden jolt of memory struck her. Her eyes widened, and she gripped the edge of the seat.
concern etched on her face.
Sasha, noticing the change, leaned closer.
"Ah… our Mistress has that look. That look always means she has remembered something important. Best we hold tight, children. Our lady is a swift one when her mind takes flight."
Aneria gave no answer. She was already thinking, already planning.
Once they arrived at the estate, the carriage doors opened. Aneria helped the children down carefully, her mind still racing. She didn't rush, but every movement was purposeful.
Inside her room, she sank onto the window seat, diary open on her lap. Her fingers trembled slightly as she traced the familiar lines, rereading a note she had almost forgotten.
Her eyes widened. Her lips parted in a silent gasp, an expression of both awe and urgency crossing her face.
Something important—something that would change everything—was about to unfold.
And Aneria, ever the careful, perceptive soul, was ready.
...