Chapter 50
The east sitting room was quiet. Too quiet. Dara paused at the doorway, one hand resting lightly against the frame as she peered inside.
Her father sat by the window—not lounging, not entertaining guests, not avoiding paperwork, but actually sitting upright with a stack of letters in hand, reading them with a seriousness Dara had only rarely seen from him.
She stared.
Cai floated beside her. “Is that… your father?”
I believe so.
“He’s working.”
“…I don’t like this,” Dara muttered.
Cai nodded solemnly. “It’s unsettling.”
Dara stepped inside. “Father.”
Regulus looked up immediately. “Lynara.”
For a moment, he simply looked at her, his gaze sharpening slightly. “You look…” He paused. “Pleased.”
Dara lifted her chin. “I am.”
“That is either very good news,” he said slowly, “or very expensive news.”
“…Both.”
Cai snorted.
Her father set the letters aside. “Should I be concerned?”
“Yes,” Dara said calmly, and held out the folded order. “But also impressed.”
Regulus took the document, his expression shifting the moment he saw the seal. He unfolded it carefully, read, then read again while Dara watched and the room went still.
Cai leaned closer. “This is the part where he either panics or cries.”
Cai.
“I’m just observing.”
Regulus lowered the letter slightly. “Temporary… governess.”
“Yes.”
“Of Ambervale.”
“Yes.”
He looked up at her. “You.”
“Yes.”
A long pause followed. Then Regulus let out a quiet breath—not shock, not disbelief, but something else entirely. He stood slowly, and for once, he did not look like a man scrambling to maintain dignity. He looked steady in a way she rarely saw from him.
“Lynara,” he said, his voice deeper than before, “this is no small matter.”
“I am aware.”
“Do you understand what this means?”
“Yes.”
That was enough for him. Regulus looked back down at the document, fingers tightening slightly along the edge, and then, unexpectedly, he smiled. Not his usual easy, careless smile. Something quieter. More genuine.
“Your grandfather would have been proud.”
Dara blinked.
The words landed softly.
Then Regulus’s expression shifted. The smile did not vanish, but something heavier settled beneath it. “Perhaps he would have been disappointed in me.”
Dara stilled.
Cai, for once, said nothing.
Regulus lowered the letter and looked at her again. “You remind me of him. More than I expected.”
“How so?” Dara asked, quieter now.
“He never saw Ambervale as something to simply hold.” Regulus glanced toward the window, toward the distant city beyond. “He saw it as something to shape. He noticed things others ignored. He did not wait for perfect conditions. He acted.”
A faint, self-aware smile touched his lips. “I, on the other hand… preferred comfort.”
“That is one way to describe it,” Dara said.
Her father huffed a soft laugh. “Yes. That is one way.”
The honesty hung between them—not bitter, not accusatory, just there.
Then his gaze sharpened again. “But understand this. The council will not welcome this.”
“I assumed as much.”
“They will smile. They will agree. They will praise your ideas. And they will resist you at every turn.”
Dara’s lips curved slightly. “That is expected.”
Regulus studied her. “You say that very calmly.”
“I am planning accordingly.”
“…Yes,” he said slowly. “You would.”
He stepped closer. “You must be careful, Lynara.”
“I am always careful.”
“No,” he said gently. “You are decisive. That is not the same thing.”
Dara paused.
That… was fair.
Regulus continued, quieter now, “Do not mistake politeness for loyalty. And do not assume resistance will be obvious. The most dangerous opposition rarely is.”
Dara met his gaze. “I understand.”
He searched her face for a moment, then nodded. “Good.”
After a pause, Regulus crossed to a small cabinet near the far wall.
Dara watched, curious.
Cai leaned in. “Ooh. Is this a sentimental moment?”
Be quiet.
Her father opened the cabinet and withdrew a worn leather-bound book. It was old—not decaying, but used, handled, important. He held it for a moment before turning back.
“This belonged to your grandfather.”
Dara straightened slightly.
Regulus walked back and held it out. “It’s his administrative journal. Private notes. Observations. Decisions he didn’t record in official ledgers.”
Dara hesitated, then took it carefully. The leather was smooth from years of use. Familiar, in a way she could not explain.
“I never used it properly,” Regulus said quietly, without defensiveness or excuse. “Perhaps you will.”
The words settled between them. Soft. Heavy. Right.
Dara held the journal a little more firmly. “I will.”
Regulus nodded once. Then, after a beat, his expression shifted slightly back toward something lighter.
“Well,” he said, exhaling. “It seems Ambervale will be in more capable hands than it has been in some time.”
“That is the plan.”
“And an ambitious one.”
“I prefer efficient ones.”
“Yes,” he said, almost amused. “I have noticed.”
Dara allowed herself a small smile, then straightened, tucking the journal carefully against her side.
“I will begin reviewing reports tomorrow.”
“Of course you will.”
“And I have a meeting scheduled in three days.”
“With the council?”
“With my council.”
Regulus paused. “…I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“You don’t need to.”
“That is also concerning.”
Dara turned toward the door, then paused and looked back at him. “I’ll be careful.”
Regulus met her gaze. “I know.”
A beat.
Then, softer, “Just don’t lose yourself in it.”
Dara held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. “I won’t.”
That, at least, she believed.
Probably.
Cai floated beside her as she left the room. “So you’re definitely building the aquarium.”
Dara didn’t even hesitate. “Yes.”
Cai sighed. “The most aggressive villainess in the kingdom.”
Dara smiled faintly. “Exactly.”