In his office, Cedric sat silently, turning a tiny vial between his fingers with the utmost care. It was about the size of an adult man's thumb and contained a milky-white substance whose clarity almost hurt the eyes. The liquid flowed like water yet seemed charged with a strange energy.
After a moment's hesitation, he gripped the vial in his right hand, rose from his seat, and stepped toward the window. He held it aloft against the low sun of late afternoon.
Ah... bloody hell, he muttered. Maybe I've taken this too far.
He sank back into the leather chair, sliding the vial into a protective flask bound with a black sponge. The flask was as big as a small A5 notebook, its exterior a rough gray carved with simple patterns, and its handle unadorned.
Doubts still clawed at him. Was this the right choice, or had he lost his mind?
I told Isolde I would do this. Now nothing can stop me.
Steeling himself, he left the office.
As he strode down the corridor, he asked a guard, "Where is Aiden?" Fortunately, the guard knew immediately, so Cedric did not need to search further.
His month-old son was with Vivienne, his first wife—a woman whose soft expression suggested she could melt into the child's arms at any moment.
He arrived at a pair of large wooden doors carved with floral motifs. A petite woman in a lightweight uniform guarded them—one of Vivienne's personal attendants. Every noble household maintained such attendants, each trained to defend their charge if necessary.
"Bring us some tea," he commanded.
Without waiting for further instruction, she hurried off, knowing exactly what to prepare.
He knocked once. A gentle voice replied from inside:
"Come in."
He entered.
The room was at least three times the size of his office. To the right stood a wardrobe and vanity table laden with cosmetics and brushes, beside a tall, ornately framed mirror reaching from floor to ceiling. To the left, a light-green bed with snow-white pillows filled the center of the wall—it was wide enough to comfortably sleep four. Matching sheer green drapes were tied back with carved wooden rails.
Flanking the bed were decorative shelves holding small, gilded mirrors. Near the door was another wardrobe and a beautiful brown-framed mirror.
At the center sat a low oak coffee table, surrounded by two pale-green armchairs and a three-seater sofa in the same hue. On the sofa, Vivienne nestled in her flowing green gown, her hair loose around her shoulders. Sunset light poured through wall-to-wall windows, bathing her in a rose-gold glow that turned the scene almost painterly. Cradling Aiden, she looked up at Cedric with a teasing tilt of her head.
"Didn't they teach you to wait for permission before you walk in?" she chided lightly.
Cedric placed a hand over his heart and feigned offense.
"Shall I walk out and knock again?" he retorted with a wry smile.
Vivienne's surprise melted into laughter.
"No need."
She patted the sofa.
"Have you come to claim this little darling?"
Cedric scanned the room as if searching for something.
"And where's Lucien? Haven't you had your fill of him yet?"
Vivienne's brows knotted.
"He's seven. I can't fuss over him like this... Besides, he wasn't half as angelic as this one." She glanced down at Aiden and added in a playful, almost silly tone unbecoming her usual poise, "He's all yours now."
Cedric settled into the armchair opposite her.
"How long has it been? If memory serves, you were to hand him off to Selene after lunch."
She nodded.
"Yes. I fetched him about an hour ago. Selene didn't cling to him, so I claimed him. And now..."—her eyes shone pleadingly—"I can't bear to give him back."
Vivienne's gaze held a sudden, fierce protectiveness.
"Have you come to take him?"
Cedric drew a slow breath.
"I'll stay a bit longer. Enjoy this time, but once I've finished my tea, I'm taking him."
He waggled a finger at Aiden, who reached for it with earnest baby curiosity—undeniably adorable.
"Surely you haven't ordered tea yet? It might take a while."
Vivienne shook her head and resumed entertaining Aiden, who groped at her fingers with his limited coordination.
Silence settled comfortably between them—no awkwardness in many years of marriage—until a knock echoed at the door.
Vivienne motioned him forward.
Anette, the attendant, entered with a wheeled tray bearing two teapots. One, pale green with floral patterns, held fruity tea and matching cup; the other, plain light blue, contained mint tea in a similarly styled cup. Both sat on magical burners that kept the liquids warm.
A small glass bottle with a rubber nipple for the child also rested on the tray. Cedric eyed it.
"I'll feed him later."
Vivienne shot him a look that said Really?
Ignoring her, he took a cup of tea and stepped onto the balcony. The sky had turned a blush pink, and the dying sun warmed his face as he sipped.
He gestured for more tea. The attendant refilled his cup, and he drank another pot over the next half hour, wrestling with his conscience—yet reminding himself,It's a promise to Isolde.
Returning inside, Cedric approached Vivienne. Reluctantly, she handed over Aiden.
"Get him back to me tomorrow morning," she said firmly.
Cedric grinned and headed for the door.
"Do I have a choice?"
Stepping out, he called to the attendant guarding the hallway.
"Find Sebas and tell him to come to my office. No rush—he can finish what he's doing before he comes."
She bowed and hurried off.
A rhythmic knock—loud, pause, loud—announced Sebas, the majordomo.
When he entered Cedric's book-lined chamber, he found his lord at the desk, surrounded by towering tomes, a pristine white feather pen, and an ink pot. With one hand, Cedric gently rocked a black wheeled cradle; the other rested on the flask.
Sebas needed no explanation. He locked the door behind him and stood respectfully by the desk.
Inside Cedric's mind, doubts churned once more. Though he had argued these points hundreds of times, now they roared louder than ever. He longed for Sebas to challenge the plan again—not to reverse it, but to help Cedric steel himself.
Cedric inhaled one final, steadying breath as Sebas approached with the warmed bottle of milk on a protective stand.
He opened the flask, then the milk bottle, and drank more than half of its contents himself. He set the bottle back down, reached for the empty vial, opened it, and carefully poured the white liquid into the bottle.
The vial, now completely empty, looked pristine, as though unused.
He snapped the vial shut, returned it to the flask, and shook the bottle. Then he instructed Sebas:
"Bring him to me."
Sebas gently lifted Aiden from the cradle, startling the babe awake. Cedric took the child into his arms and pressed the bottle to his lips as though breastfeeding.
The liquid vanished swiftly, despite the rubber nipple's slow flow.
Within moments, Aiden's eyelids drooped, and he slipped into sleep once more.