“Morning,” Ritsuka said. “You are just in time. This is not really a breakfast dish, so call it an early lunch and sit down before the food gets cold.”
Silence hit the kitchen first.
Lucas Wynnee stood in the doorway, chest rising and falling like he had run the whole way down from the upper halls and stairs. His eyes went straight to Ritsuka and stayed there.
From the stove, Ritsuka watched him track every wrong detail.
For a moment his face did not belong to a duchy lord. It belonged to an older brother staring at his little sister.
“L, Lord Wynnee,” Isolde said quickly, the towel on her arm jerking as she bowed. “Forgive us, we did not expect you so soon.”
The spell broke. The kitchen remembered how to move again, proceeding back to normal motion as far as Ritsuka could see.
Ruar ducked his head so fast his curls bounced, clutching the clean ladle like it might bolt from his hand. From where she stood, Ritsuka saw him force himself back to the pot, stirring the stretched stew with careful motions.
Bram inclined his head, one palm steady on the side of the big pot that now held the stew.
“My lord,” the head cook said. “The kitchen is at your service. We were just turning something into a meal fitting for lunch.”
From her spot by the stove, Ritsuka watched Lucas’s eyes cut to Bram, then the pot, then Isolde hovering near her shoulder. His gaze came back to her and stayed there.
Lucas gave Bram and Isolde a short nod, a quiet acknowledgement.
“Julia,” Lucas said softly. “What are you doing on your feet?”
She could hear the wear under the words. Not anger, more a worry that had been carried too long.
All right, she thought. If I’m going to survive here, building a real relationship with him is the start. I have so many questions… but at least one thing is settled. I can still cook.
“I am standing,” Ritsuka said. “And I am not just wearing this getup for nothing. I am cooking, as you can see.”
She spread a hand down the front of the coat and tipped her chin toward the counter nearest the stove, where a clear stretch of space waited for trays and bowls.
“I hope you’re hungry,” she added. “Because you look like you have not eaten yet, so that means we can have a bite together.”
Isolde’s shoulders tightened. Bram’s fingers flexed once on the pot, then settled as he kept stirring.
Lucas’s mouth twitched, caught between exasperation and relief.
“You are trying to sit me down to eat,” he said, a quiet huff of air slipping out that almost counted as a laugh. “I must look worse than I thought if my little sister wants to share a meal with me.”
“I am saying it would be a shame if you let all this go cold,” Ritsuka answered. “At least taste it with me, Lucas.”
The name dropped into the room and everything drew tight around it.
Ruar’s ladle slowed. Isolde’s fingers went slack on the towel before she caught it again. Even Bram’s eyes flicked up, quick and startled, like he had heard something he had not realized he missed.
A faint shimmer slid across the edge of her vision.
Relationship Updated
Lucas Wynnee – 60 → 70 (Trusted)
There it is again, she thought, breath catching. Some kind of system that turns bonds into numbers. If this world is going to measure my relationships, then I want this one to be real. Brother first.
Lucas went very still.
A breath left him that sounded almost like a laugh that had forgotten how to be loud.
“Lucas,” he repeated, quiet, tasting it. “I have not heard you say my name like that in… a long time.”
Ritsuka felt the weight of it without needing the details.
“Then it is overdue,” she said. “And if we are going to talk after this, you should not be doing it on an empty stomach.”
Something in his expression loosened. The corners of his mouth eased into the first real smile she had seen from him, small but honest.
Lucas drew in a steadier breath.
Stolen novel; please report.
“You are right,” he said. “We do have a great deal to speak about, if you are feeling up to it.”
His eyes slid past her to Bram.
“Bram,” Lucas said, voice slipping back into its everyday work cadence. “A small bowl for tasting here. Then a tray for my study two proper servings, one for my sister and one for me.”
“Yes, my lord,” Bram said at once. “It will be done.”
Still minding the pot, Bram hooked a smaller clay bowl off the shelf, wiped it with a clean cloth, and held it toward the main pot. Ruar, already moving, ducked to the lower shelf for a spoon, then hurried it over.
Ritsuka shifted just enough to give them room. The heat from the stove and the stew wrapped around all of them.
Bram dipped the ladle into the stew and filled the small bowl. Meat and sauce slid in with a soft, heavy sound. A thin sheen of fat caught the light on top.
Ruar passed the spoon. Lucas stepped closer to the cleared stretch of counter and took both.
Steam rolled up, carrying tomato, roasted peppers, and reefback boor straight into his face.
He breathed in, and Ritsuka saw something in his expression ease in spite of himself.
“Isolde,” he said quietly, eyes still on the bowl. “You brought her down here?”
Isolde flinched, but she did not step back.
“She woke with strength, my lord,” Isolde said. “She stood. She did not cough. She asked for the kitchen.” Her fingers tightened around the towel. “If I was wrong to say yes, that wrong is mine. But I could not put her back in bed when she looked at me like that.”
He looked up then, really looking at her, and Ritsuka saw the lines of tired worry on Isolde’s face land in his eyes.
“I would not blame you for letting my sister move,” Lucas said. “It is truly a blessing.”
This woman has carried you both for a long time, Ritsuka thought, watching Isolde’s shoulders sag in quiet relief.
Lucas picked up the spoon.
From this close, the shadows under his eyes looked darker than they had by the bedside. The tendons stood out along the back of his hand. His grip on the spoon was steady, but too tight for something as simple as tasting food.
He dipped, blew once, and took a mouthful.
He did not move at first.
Then his brows climbed, just a fraction. The tightness at the corners of his eyes loosened.
He swallowed, closed his eyes briefly as if listening to his own body, then went back for another bite.
She knew what the stew was doing. Pepper heat and fat pulling his blood up to his skin. Broth carrying strength instead of sitting like a stone.
Color crept into his cheeks. His shoulders dropped a notch. His next inhale came deeper.
By the time the little bowl was nearly empty, Lucas’s face had changed.
Good, Ritsuka thought. If I can’t fix anything else yet, I can at least feed him.
Lucas looked over at Bram.
“This is yours?” he asked.
“Respectfully, it was all Lady Julia, my lord,” Bram said, still stirring the main pot. “I have never put a stew together like this. I am not sure how my lady learned how to cook, but I hope she returns to our kitchen soon.”
Lucas’s gaze came back to her, sharper now but not colder. He ran it over the coat, the ink on her arms, the pendant.
“You have never wanted to be in here,” Lucas said. “Not once. And now I find you standing at the stove with a knife in hand, dressed like…”
His eyes lingered on the tattoos at her throat, but the words trailed off.
Ritsuka held his gaze and kept her voice even.
“I woke up hungry,” she said, trying to keep the truth hidden. No one needs to know about my old life.
She let her shoulders lift in a small shrug.
Lucas’s mouth curved, just for a moment, into something that belonged around a family table, not a council one. From where she stood, Ritsuka caught Ruar watching that smile like it was rarer than reefback. Isolde’s eyes went bright.
“I see,” Lucas said.
He eased the empty bowl back onto the counter and cleared his throat.
“This is not the room for everything else I would like to ask,” he said. “But this stew is incredible, Julia.”
“Then we did not waste your pantry, my lord,” Bram said. “We can stretch what is left so everyone gets a bowl.”
“Good,” Lucas said. “Do it.”
He looked to Ruar.
“Ruar,” Lucas said. “Once Bram has it set, have Isolde bring a full bowl up to my study for Julia. One for me as well. We will eat while we talk.”
“Yes, my lord,” Ruar said, flushing, already reaching for more bowls. “Right away.”
Lucas studied his sister’s face again, and from where she stood, Ritsuka could see him memorizing every new line in it and locking the rest of his questions away for later.
“Will you be all right to walk?” he asked, the lord’s tone gone, only brother left.
“I am tired,” Ritsuka said. “Nothing a bowl upstairs and a chair wouldn’t solve.”
Some of the strain went out of his shoulders.
“Then let’s go,” Lucas said.
His gaze skimmed over her coat, her trousers, the bare lines of ink at her throat.
“We will talk about your clothes too,” he said. “Mother would be delighted. The tailor will not.”
“I plan on being in the kitchen,” Ritsuka said. “So please have something fitting for a chef, not just a lady in lace.”
This time, the smile reached further toward his eyes.
“Of course,” he chuckled back.
Lucas turned toward the corridor.
Isolde stepped forward, already shifting into another list of tasks.
“My lord,” Isolde said, “I will see to the Lady Julia’s new clothes.”
Lucas gave a short nod without slowing.
Ritsuka fell in beside him as they left the warmth of the kitchen for the colder stone of the hall.
Information first, she thought, keeping her steps steady. Where am I exactly, what is this family carrying, and what is this system doing when I talk to people and cook? I want a real family this time. But I am not letting politics swallow me again and this time I will open my damn restaurant.
Behind them, the kitchen snapped back into rhythm Bram’s low orders, Ruar’s quick steps, the clink of clay bowls being set out for the tray.
The smell of stew still clung to her sleeves.
I fed him. she thought, fingers brushing the warm edge of the pendant. “Is that what you meant… Leah”
She matched Lucas’s pace down the corridor toward the study, peppers and reefback still lingering on her tongue.
END OF CHAPTER 6