Freya Tarmal’s POV

Francis Hall, my father’s personal valet, led us through the manor to the solar, where we found my father seated on a red sofa, gazing out of the window with a glass of wine in hand.

“My Lord, Lady Tarmal and her family have arrived,” Francis announced as we entered.

“Grandpa!” Haela yelled, practically launching herself off Ronan and tackling Julius into a hug, nearly making him spill his wine. “Your house is so big!”

“Well, if it isn’t our little rascal. You’ve grown,” he chuckled, handing the glass to Francis before tousling Haela’s hair.

I walked over to my father as he stood up and wrapped me in a hug. “How are you?”

“Oh, you know… I keep going to make a joke, turning to the side, and—well, you know. She’s not there.” He let out a deep sigh. “Thirty-six years is a long time.”

Holding him at arm's length, I studied his worn face, glancing sideways at the glass of wine Francis was holding.

“What?” He said, noticing my gaze. “One glass never hurt anyone.”

“But—” I began, but he waved me off and walked over to the others, ruffling the hair of each of his grandchildren in turn. 

“And how are you three doing?” he asked. Chione smiled softly, while Kane wrinkled his nose and tried to duck away—but failed—grumbling as he attempted to fix his now-messy hair.

Despite his attempt at a jovial attitude, I could tell Julius was scrutinising the children, as if something was on his mind. Kane eventually gave up on fixing his hair and crossed his arms sulkily, like he no longer wanted to be part of the conversation.

“It’s good to see you all, but your mother and I need to have a talk. My friend here will show you the rest of the house,” Julius gestured at his valet before settling back into his seat. “Hall, have someone help them settle in and give them a tour. After that, they can be taken into the city.”

“Yes, sir.” Francis bowed and began leading the children out of the room.

“I’ll stay,” Ronan said, before hastily adding. “If that’s okay with you two?”

“Tsk, of course it’s not,” Julius scoffed, then waved at the lounge chair diagonal to him. “Just sit down already, both of you.”

Once the children had been led out and Francis shut the doors, Julius’ smile faded.

“Tell me everything that happened. Your letter didn’t have enough detail,” he said.

I began recounting what had unfolded in my absence. When Ronan tried to add something, Julius raised his hand to silence him.

“I asked my daughter. You can explain your side when it’s your turn,” he sighed. “How an oaf like you ever managed to marry my beautiful daughter, I’ll never understand.” 

Ronan shrank back slightly, like a scolded puppy.

“No, he should explain,” I murmured, my voice briefly turning unsteady. “I wasn’t even there…”

“Freya…” Ronan gently wrapped his hand around mine before turning to Julius and recounting everything—from the day Elian died to our departure from Damerel.

When he finished, the room fell into silence. I had managed to hold back the tears threatening to spill and instead fixed my father with a stolid gaze. Julius remained calm. Nobles were trained from birth to master their emotions, but Ronan—lacking such an upbringing—couldn’t hide his distress. He trembled beside me, his head bowed as he tried to wipe away the tears streaking down his face.

“I know this is going to be difficult, but I need to make absolutely sure,” Julius leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “You said Kane has already awakened as a mage?” 

I nodded, already anticipating what he was about to ask.

“You both know the boy well,” he continued, choosing his words carefully. “In your opinion, could Kane be… A reincarnate?”

Ronan practically leapt off the couch. “Julius, he’s our son! Why would you even ask that?”

“Sit down, Ronan,” I said calmly, keeping my gaze fixed on Julius. When Ronan looked back at me, he hesitated before sinking back into his seat, head bowed once more.

Before answering, I carefully considered everything I knew about Kane as objectively as possible. “Obviously, he would be under suspicion because of his early awakening. It’s unheard of for any ordinary person to awaken at his age. His childhood development was extraordinary, and he’s always been… strange.”

Ronan looked up at me, shocked, but said nothing. Julius leaned forward, his expression grave.

“However, that’s exactly the thing. He’s developed quickly, yes, but nothing more,” I continued. “When I tried to teach him basic mathematics, history, etiquette—anything, really—he struggled. In that regard, he was the same as Chione. If he were a reincarnate, he couldn’t have received any education in his past life, leaving him academically stunted. And as you saw earlier, at times he can be immature and childlike, in his own strange way. 

“While he can be apathetic and antisocial, nothing about his behaviour, besides his rapid development, suggests a previous life. Elian was better at socialising than he is. Chione is more academically capable. And after Haela, I’m convinced all our children are equally strange in their own ways. If, by some chance, he is a reincarnate, then whoever he used to be would have had to live a completely isolated existence—no education, no relationships, no room to develop or mature as a person. Even now, he struggles to grow in those areas. So, although he’s an unusual child with immense magical talent, I don’t believe he could be a reincarnate.”

By the time I finished, Ronan had wiped away his tears and seemed closer to his usual self. Julius had listened intently, and now he leaned back against the lounge, staring at the ceiling in thought.

“If it’s as you say,” he murmured, “then I, too, see little reason to suspect him. He truly is just a genius in magic. But that raises another question—what about the other two?”

I shook my head, but before I could formulate a response, Ronan spoke first. “Chione is the spitting image of my mother, not just in appearance but in how she acts as well. Academically, she’s not far above average. Although she might seem distant or indifferent, anyone who spends enough time with her can see she’s just a little awkward and doesn’t know how to express herself. She’s actually very warm-hearted.

“We were a bit overprotective since she was our first daughter, so the only person she ever really spoke to was us and Elian. By the time we realised she wasn’t willing to socialise with others, she had already grown completely attached to him. And you know how Elian was—she never had to speak. No matter what she said, he was never annoyed or impatient, so she never needed to learn how to socialise properly. Now that he’s gone… I’m honestly a bit worried about whether she’ll be able to open up to people again.” 

I smiled as I listened, feeling the warmth of his hand against mine. 

“As for Haela, there’s no chance,” I said.

“Even if she were a reincarnate, she sleeps too much to come up with any evil schemes,” Ronan laughed.

“Reincarnates aren’t just evil,” Julius reminded us. “They’re tragic existences—cursed, whether they want to be or not. But you both seem confident, so we’ll leave it at that.”

Ronan sighed, then glanced at me with a relieved smile. Though I knew this was only the first part of our discussion, I still returned his smile.

“Now,” Julius continued, exhaling deeply, “preparations for Laela’s funeral are already underway, and everything's under control. But we need to think about what comes after. Of course, I could return to the county estate, but Eryndrel has always suited me better. I plan on spending most of my time here. And frankly, I’m going to be lonely. So how about you stop living in that shithole of a town and stay here with me?” he paused. “You’d really be doing me a favour.”

“I’ve told you, that’s not happening!” I snapped. “I want to raise them away from all of this. They need to grow up properly, without the suffocating politics and indulgent luxuries. I had no choice but to bring them here for mother's funeral, that was unavoidable, but living here is an entirely different matter.”

Julius threw his hands up. “They need a proper education, Freya. There’s no better place than here in Eryndrel, where I can give them everything they need.”

“Chione’s growing up,” Ronan agreed. “It’d be good if she could attend a proper academy. Maybe we should think about it, Freya.”

Julius nodded, then gestured at me. “Besides, I can’t keep going to Damerel every time you come here to give birth. When are you due this time?”

“In four and a half months. You could tell?” I asked, surprised. I’d been wearing thick clothing to conceal it, and I hadn’t mentioned it yet.

“You’re my daughter, I know you.” He rolled his eyes. “Look, you don’t have to come to a decision straight away. If you decide to stay, I’ll send some people with Ronan to collect your things—after the funeral, of course.”

I looked at Ronan, who nodded in support. “Give me some time to think about it, Ronan and I will discuss it later.”

“Consider it carefully, you know it really is for the best.” Julius said. Then, in a gentler voice, he added, “If you want, we can also move Elian here, so he can rest next to Laela.”

“We’ll discuss it later, it’s a huge decision.”

* * * * *

Kane Tarmal’s POV

“This is Miss Eleanor, our newly appointed governess,” Julius’ valet introduced us to a tall woman with long brown hair and a refined smile. “She will give you a tour of the manor and show you to your rooms. Now, forgive me, but I must return to the Count. I wish the Young Master and Young Mistresses an enjoyable stay.” He finished with a bow before striding down the hallway.

We turned back to Eleanor, who smiled sweetly, her hands neatly clasped in front of her grey dress. She stood so straight it made her seem as though she were looking down her nose at us. “It is a pleasure to meet you. As you just heard from Mister Hall, I am the governess of the Ellis household. You may call me Miss Eleanor. I will be your educator and guardian for the foreseeable future. Now, if you would please follow me.” Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and strode away.

“I already don’t like her,” I muttered to my sisters. “What does she mean education and guardian? We’re only visiting, not moving in.” At some point, Haela had tucked herself behind Chione, who ignored me. Instead, she squeezed Haela’s hand and hesitantly followed Eleanor. After a brief pause, I sighed and trailed behind at my own pace.

We toured every room of the manor, each accompanied by a succinct explanation before we were promptly ushered to the next. Eventually, the tour ended in the residential wing.

“This will be the Young Mistresses’ room,” Eleanor announced, pushing open a wooden door. Inside, the room was carefully divided in two—on the left, a low-set bed with an embroidered canopy marked Haela’s side, while on the right, a larger bed with carved wooden details sat beside a cosy reading nook brimming with books, clearly Chione’s. 

The girls stepped inside slowly, their eyes wide with wonder. It was at least twice the size of their bedroom back in Damerel. Haela made a beeline for a cushioned chest beside her bed, eagerly rummaging through the toys inside, while Chione ran her fingers along the spines of the books before selecting one. She was just about to settle onto the couch by the floor-to-ceiling window and flip it open when Eleanor cleared her throat.

“You’ll have time to get comfortable later. Once Master Kane has seen his room, you will change into fresh clothes, and we will be going on an outing.”

“But we only just got here,” Chione said with a frown.

“It has almost been an hour since your arrival, Miss Chione, and to truly understand the city, you must experience it firsthand,” Eleanor replied smoothly. Then, with a graceful smile, she added, “Also, do try not to frown so deeply. It will cause wrinkles.”

I was then led to the room next door, where a sturdy single bed with a carved headboard sat against one wall, accompanied by a small writing desk and a cushioned window seat. With a few other modest furnishings, the room felt somewhat plain, but it was a clear upgrade from my old one in Damerel.

A few minutes later, I found myself standing in that very room, looking into a full length mirror while being dressed by one of the maids. She fastened a well-tailored black doublet with golden embroidery over my shoulders, paired it with fitted breeches, and slipped soft leather shoes onto my feet. To complete the ensemble, a light cloak was draped elegantly over one of my shoulders. Not only had someone else dressed me, but I was now indistinguishable from any other spoiled noble child.

This is humiliating, I lamented.

Once I was ready, I met my sisters. They had been similarly adorned. Chione wore a modest soft blue dress with delicate lace trimming and embroidery—a fitted bodice complemented by a flowing skirt—and a small shawl draped over her shoulders for warmth. With her poised demeanor, refined through Laela’s teachings, she had transformed into a perfect young noble lady. Beside her, clinging to Eleanor’s hand, Haela wore a pastel yellow dress made from a lightweight fabric, a knitted cardigan, and tiny leather shoes to match.

Accompanied by Eleanor, a maid, three guards, and two footmen, we left the manor once more, taking a carriage through the Royal Ward towards the inner wall.

“Where are we going?” Chione asked. She was more talkative than usual, which, if I had to guess, was because today’s whirlwind of events had unsettled her.

Eleanor, who hadn’t let go of Haela’s hand, turned to her. “We will be visiting the Merchant's Haven just outside the inner wall. I believe it’s the best place to experience the city’s more common nature.” 

Chione nodded in understanding, and we fell into silence until we arrived at our destination and stepped out of the carriage.

The air in Merchant’s Haven was thick with the mingling scents of fresh bread, roasted nuts, and exotic spices, carried on the crisp afternoon breeze. Sunlight filtered through the towering stone buildings that framed the district, casting long shadows across the bustling streets. Stalls and permanent shopfronts spilled onto the cobbled roads, their awnings fluttering as merchants called out their wares. The steady clatter of hooves and wagon wheels provided an undercurrent to the din of haggling voices, with the occasional burst of laughter or sharp exclamation rising above the noise. 

The crowd moved in an organised chaos, a blend of different people navigating the market’s energy. Well-dressed merchants in embroidered tunics spoke in hushed tones with their wealthier clientele, while street vendors boisterously advertised their goods to passing buyers. A bard strummed the strings of a lute in one corner, his hat resting on the ground with a few scattered coins inside. 

“Stay together at all times,” Eleanor instructed. “Haela, don’t let go of my hand, dear.”