Free Web NovelChapter 85: The Sound of Wings
Chapter 84: The Sound of Wings
Lyria’s POV
Jacinta made a soft, nonchalant sound, as though the matter of the flower held little interest to her beyond polite curiosity.
"Oh," she said lightly.
The Baron’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he straightened, adjusting his gloves with a measured calm.
"It does not matter if you recall it or not, Your Highness," he said. "The event to which I refer occurred when I was much younger."
So he noticed she had no idea what he was speaking about.
Baron Redwick paused, his expression shifting subtly.
"It was... a severe drought."
The levity that had coloured the earlier conversation faded, replaced by something quieter.
"An unforgiving one," he continued. "The sort that does not simply inconvenience a territory, but tests its very foundation."
Jacinta tilted her head, her parasol angling slightly as she regarded him.
"I see."
"I witnessed things during that time," he went on, his voice steady, though the words themselves were not light, "that no ruler should ever wish their people to endure."
There was a pause.
Then, more quietly—
"People died."
The wind moved faintly through the garden, stirring the wisteria along the walls.
"I saw hunger take hold of entire households," he continued. "I watched families ration what little they had until there was nothing left to ration at all." freёwebnovel.com
His gaze drifted, unfocused now—not on the garden, but somewhere beyond it.
"And worse still," he said, "I saw what desperation does to wolves."
My breath stilled.
"They turned on one another," he said simply. "Pack against pack. Brother against brother. Not out of malice—but out of necessity."
I knew what he meant. Everyone in a werewolf territory would know what he meant. Wolves eating each other was not something spoken of openly. It was the kind of thing that happened at the extreme edges of desperation and was remembered afterward with a particular shame that had nothing to do with the individuals involved and everything to do with what the situation had reduced them to.
A faint tightening touched his jaw before it smoothed away again.
"Seeing that," Baron Redwick said, "when I was young enough that I could not do anything about it—it stays with you."
Jacinta watched him now with more attention than before, though there was still a distance to it—as though she understood the gravity, but did not feel it.
"I found it unacceptable," he said. "The not being able to do anything. So I decided that when I could do something, I would."
"And when I took over as Baron," he continued, "that was the first thing I addressed. Systems. Safeguards. Contingencies for drought conditions, for crop failure, for every foreseeable crisis I could identify. We rebuilt the land management approach entirely. It took years." He adjusted his spectacles. "But it has not happened again."
I found myself listening more intently than I ought to.
Every word he spoke was filled with facts.
If I had been in any other position—
If I had not been standing where I stood, head bowed among a line of maids who were not meant to speak unless spoken to, I would have asked how.
How they had built such systems.
How they had secured resources in times of scarcity.
How they had convinced others to cooperate rather than hoard.
How they had prevented desperation from taking root again.
There were a hundred questions in my mind.
More.
But they remained there because I knew my place.
Jacinta exhaled softly, as though the weight of his words had only just settled upon her.
"Well," she said after a moment, her tone returning to something lighter, "it seems you have done quite well for yourself."
He inclined his head.
"I have done what was necessary."
"And your people?" she asked. "They must be very proud of you."
A small smile touched his lips then.
"Yes," he said. "They are."
It was not a wide smile. But it changed his face in a way that was... noticeable.
Jacinta noticed it too.
Her expression softened at once, her gaze lingering just a fraction longer than before.
"You have a very handsome smile," she said, her voice dipping slightly, carrying a note of something warmer. "It brightens your entire face."
He gave a quiet chuckle, the sound polite—though there was something faintly uncertain beneath it.
"You are kind, Your Highness."
"I am observant," she corrected gently.
She took a small step closer.
The distance between them lessened. Baron Redwick moved back subtly.
That did not discourage Jacinta in the slightest. If anything, it encouraged her, and she followed, moving closer.
"I suspect," she said, lowering her voice just slightly, "that you and I shall have a very pleasant time together."
Baron Redwick cleared his throat, a soft sound that did little to disguise the flicker of unease that passed across his features.
"I would not be opposed to that," he said.
There was a faint pause after it.
The sort that lingered just a moment too long to be entirely comfortable.
I was very much keeping my eyes down and my expression carefully neutral, and I was absolutely not in any way finding this funny.
Then I heard it.
A single note of sound, low and familiar, cutting through the warm garden air with the particular quality that my body had apparently stored in some deep and permanent memory from the last time I had heard it up close.
Buzzing.
My entire body went still.
Go away. Go away, please.
The buzzing continued anyway, and no matter how much I prayed, the bee did not go away.
I kept my eyes straight ahead and my breathing even and told myself it was simply a bee. One bee. Bees were small. Bees were not interested in people who were standing still and not bothering them. I was standing very still. I was not bothering anything.
The buzzing got louder now, and I squeezed my eyes shut, praying desperately that the bee left.
