Kael’s voice came out strained, barely above a whisper.
“Isn’t that… isn’t that… how do you have Lila’s picture?”
The words seemed to drain the warmth from the corridor.
Daren stiffened.
For a heartbeat, he did not move. The sunlight streaming through the tall window painted his figure in pale gold, but it did nothing to soften the sudden tension that seized his shoulders. Slowly—too slowly—he turned toward Kael, confusion creasing his aged face. His brows knitted together as if he were struggling to understand what he had just heard.
“Lila?” Daren echoed. The name tasted unfamiliar on his tongue. “What do you mean… Lila?”
He looked down at the frame in his hands, as though seeing it anew, then back at Kael, his frown deepening.
“My daughter’s name is Ella.”
The words hit Kael like cold water dumped over his head.
For a moment, he felt as though the ground beneath him had shifted. His breath caught, but he forced himself to inhale slowly, deliberately, until the sharp edge of panic dulled. When he spoke again, his tone was controlled—carefully measured.
“I… see,” Kael said. “Forgive me. I may have spoken too fast.”
Daren studied him closely, suspicion flickering briefly behind his eyes before fading into something quieter. He turned his attention back to the picture, his fingers tightening slightly around the worn wooden frame.
“You wanted to know what happened,” Daren said at last, his voice low and distant. “Didn’t you?”
Kael nodded. “If you’re willing.”
Silence stretched between them.
Outside, somewhere deep within Ridgehall, footsteps echoed faintly, then faded. The castle continued breathing around them, unaware that something old and buried was being dragged back into the light.
Daren exhaled—a sound that seemed pulled from deep within his chest.
“I married my wife when I was still young,” he began. “Before Ridgehall. Before titles and duties swallowed my life.”
A faint, fractured smile touched his lips.
“Her name was Mirelle. She had this way of looking at the world… like it was kinder than it really was. She believed people could be better if someone simply expected it of them.”
Kael listened without interrupting.
“She hated my posture,” Daren continued softly. “Said I stood like a man bracing for an ambush, even in our own home. Every night she’d try to pull my shoulders down, laughing, telling me I wasn’t on duty anymore.”
The smile trembled.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“She cooked too much. Always worried I wasn’t eating enough. If I came home late, she’d still be awake, pretending she hadn’t been waiting.”
He swallowed.
“When Ella was born… everything changed.”
Daren’s grip on the frame tightened.
“She had Mirelle’s eyes. Bright. Curious. Always watching. From the moment she learned to walk, she followed me everywhere—clutching my leg, tugging at my coat, asking questions she was far too young to understand.”
His voice softened.
“She wanted to be a guard. Said she’d protect her mother and me. She carried around a wooden spoon like it was a sword.”
Kael felt something tighten in his chest.
“She laughed easily,” Daren said. “Too easily. Even the house felt warmer when she laughed. Like the walls themselves remembered joy.”
His voice wavered.
“And then… the guards attacked your parents.”
Kael’s jaw tightened instinctively, but he did not look away.
“When the news reached me,” Daren said, “I didn’t think. I panicked. I left immediately. No orders. No escort. Just my blade and my fear.”
His breathing grew uneven.
“I thought—if I could just reach them. Warn them. Fight if I had to. I could do something right. Something that mattered.”
His fingers trembled.
“But I made a mistake,” he whispered. “The worst mistake of my life.”
The corridor felt smaller.
“I left my wife and child unprotected.”
The words shattered whatever composure he had left.
“When I returned,” Daren continued, voice breaking, “the house was silent. Too silent.”
Tears welled in his eyes, spilling freely now.
“Mirelle was dead,” he said hoarsely. “Slain where she stood. She didn’t even try to run.”
Kael closed his eyes briefly.
“The walls were soaked in blood,” Daren whispered. “I remember thinking… how could so much come from one body?”
His shoulders slumped.
“And Ella…” His voice cracked completely. “She was gone.”
No body.
No blood.
No sign of struggle.
“Nothing,” Daren said. “Just her room. Empty.”
He laughed weakly, the sound hollow and broken.
“I searched,” he cried. “For days. Weeks. Months. I searched everywhere. Slums. Markets. Border towns. I begged. I bribed. I threatened.”
His fists clenched.
“I chased rumors like a madman. A girl with dark hair. A child sold. A body found. Each one led to nothing.”
Tears streamed unchecked down his face.
“I thought about ending it,” he confessed. “More times than I can count. What use is living when every breath reminds you of what you failed to protect?”
He pressed a shaking hand to his chest.
“It never leaves,” he sobbed. “The guilt. The image. It stains your mind forever.”
Kael stepped forward.
“I think your daughter is alive.”
The words sliced through the air like a blade.
Daren froze.
For a long moment, he did not breathe. Slowly, painfully, he lifted his head. His eyes were red, raw, filled with disbelief so sharp it bordered on fear.
“…What?”
Kael met his gaze steadily. “Daren. Believe me. Your daughter is alive.”
A broken laugh escaped Daren’s throat. “My lord…” he said weakly. “Don’t say such things lightly.”
“She goes by the name Lila,” Kael continued. “The girl I told you about before. The one I asked you to search for. The one Orin’s group took in.”
Daren’s breath caught.
“She matches the description in that picture,” Kael said. “ The features.”
He hesitated, then spoke carefully.
“I can’t say for certain,” Kael admitted. “But I’m seventy percent sure.”
“Seventy percent…” Daren whispered.
He looked down at the picture again, his tears dripping onto the glass.
A fragile smile formed on his lips—unsteady, trembling, barely holding together.
“At least… that gives me a shred of hope,” he said softly. “Even a little… is enough.”
At that moment, footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Tarin walked in, stretching lazily. “What’s with the heavy atmosphere—”
He stopped.
His eyes landed on Daren.
On the tears.
On the picture.
Tarin blinked.
Then he laughed.
“By the gods,” he said incredulously. “I never thought I’d live to see the day Daren the butler cried.”
Kael turned slowly.
His gaze alone was enough.
He leaned in just enough and whispered, low but unmistakably sharp, “Can’t you read the room?”
Tarin flinched. “Oh—uh—my bad am sorry .”
He cleared his throat awkwardly, then squinted at the picture still clutched in Daren’s hands.
He stepped closer.
Looked again.
“…Wait,” Tarin said slowly. “Isn’t that baby Lila?”
The words hung in the air.
