The Bonaventura manor never slept. Even at dawn, servants moved briskly through its halls, always with their heads bowed. Soldiers in black and crimson guarded every doorway, their cloak bearing the snake sigil that glinted in the morning light. To Ezekiel, it felt less like a home and more like a fortress bracing for siege.

He trailed behind Lanastha, still aching from the shallow cut on his arm, still dizzy from fatigue. Her stride never slowed for his short legs. Her cloak swept along the marble floor like the wing of a bird, scattering servants who glanced at her for too long.

At the end of a long corridor, Lanastha stopped. “Rue.”

A young man stepped from a side passage and bowed with easy precision. He was perhaps seventeen, with light-brown hair kept short, sharp green eyes, and the lean build of someone used to carrying a blade. His uniform — plain black with crimson trim — marked him as a personal retainer rather than a household servant. Unlike the others, he didn’t look terrified of Lanastha, just alert.

“This is my son,” Lanastha said curtly, as if presenting an heirloom rather than a child. “You will attend to him.”

Rue’s gaze flicked briefly to Ezekiel — not with disbelief, but with quick appraisal — then back to Lanastha. 

“Yes, my lady.” Turning to Ezekiel, he gave a shallow bow. “Young Master.”

The title startled him. No one had ever called Theo master in his old life. He muttered an awkward, “Uh… hi.”

Lanastha’s crimson stare cut through them both like a blade. “He is to be guarded at all times. If he vanishes, you will answer for it.”

Rue’s voice stayed calm. “Understood.”

Lanastha swept off down the hall, two soldiers falling in behind her. The heavy doors shut, leaving Ezekiel and Rue alone in a wide, sunlit chamber lined with bookshelves and windows overlooking the inner courtyard.

Rue crouched so they were eye-level, his expression softer than his clipped tone had been with Lanastha. “You look pale. Did you sleep at all?”

Ezekiel hesitated, unsure how much he could say. “Not… really.”

“Not surprised.” Rue poured water into a basin, wrung out a cloth, and carefully cleaned the blood from Ezekiel’s arm. 

His touch was steady, almost practiced — nothing like Lanastha’s cold, gloved inspection. “Your mother doesn’t bring home strays. Everyone will be talking.”

“Talking about what?” Ezekiel asked.

Rue’s eyes darted toward the door to make sure no one was listening. 

“Some say you’re an illegitimate heir. Others say you’re a hostage. But I think…” His voice dropped conspiratorially, and a faint smile tugged at his mouth. 

“I think you’re exactly who she says you are. Bonaventura blood. The eyes give you away.”

Ezekiel shifted uncomfortably. “Is that… bad?”

Rue gave a short laugh, though it held no joy. “Depends who you ask. Around here? It means people bow lower… and stab deeper.”

Later that day, Rue led Ezekiel through the manor’s endless halls. He named the important faces in low tones: the steward, the captain of the guard, the veteran retainers who’d served the family for decades.

But there were others Ezekiel didn’t like  men and women in fine black coats who bowed just a little too low, smiled just a little too long. Rue murmured their names like warnings. “Lord Sorel. Lady Veyra. Don’t let them corner you.”

Whispers followed everywhere they went. 

The witch has a son. 

The boy has her eyes.

At lunch, Ezekiel caught one servant glaring openly before vanishing down another corridor. Rue’s hand twitched toward the dagger at his belt, a reflex Ezekiel didn’t miss.

That evening, Rue helped Ezekiel into bed and checked the shutters before locking the door. 

“Keep it that way,” Rue said quietly.

“Why?” Ezekiel asked.

“Because this place is a nest of hawks,” Rue said, settling into the chair by the door with a watchful posture. “And hawks eat their own if they’re hungry enough.”

The faint smile Rue gave him tried to be reassuring, but his eyes didn’t match.

As Ezekiel drifted into uneasy sleep, he wondered if the veiled woman had known this would happen.

 Be happier this time

 she’d said. But happiness felt very far away inside these cold, stone walls.