Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 145: Sir Conan’s Birthday.

Chapter 145: Sir Conan’s Birthday.

Dusk.

Female Employed Quarters, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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"What on earth are you doing, miss?" Dorothy sing-songed to Joyous who sat lost in thoughts on the edge of her bed.

Joyous looked at the window. "I feel..." she trailed off.

While Dorothy raised a brow. "What do you feel?"

"I feel today is another day" Joyous blinked, replied, before bending to fasten her shoes on.

"Whatever does that mean? Of course it is another day" Dorothy said with a roll of her eyes.

Joyous smiled, that was thesame question she’d asked the person who had told her that. Everyday was another day and she couldn’t be any more grateful for the lessons learned from her. She was her companion.

"Why do you have cheese under the bed?" Joyous’s voice is muffled from pressing her chest to her knee as she sighted the cheese on an open plate under Dorothy’s bed.

"I...uhh...for rats". Dorothy stuttered out. "Yes, I have it there incase a rat gets hungry" she nodded.

"They would grow big and destroy storage if you feed them" Joyous said alarmed. "Dorothy, do not engage them, we should a way to rid the mansion of rats before winter"

Dorothy faced the door quickly.

"Alright, alright I forgot we have enough in the mansion, I could not eat it so I hid it" she announced, her tone loud from embarrasment.

"Oh Dorothy" Joyous stood up and gathered Dorothy in a tight apologetic and warmth sharing hug.

"I am so sorry" she whispered into her ear.

Dorothy sighed. "I am okay, today is another day"

"Another day to let go of the past" Joyous added subtly, her eyes tired.

They left their room to go live another day in the mansion or wherever the day takes them.

*

* *

*

Morning.

Parlour, Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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"Do you suppose we need more of those happiness bananas from the north?" Theodore asked, his voice tinged with hopelessness.

"That is hilarious, do you perhaps feel sad?"

Theodore had come out of the office to find his wife coming down the stairs, she’d looked so pretty, he had kissed her then and there as though his life had depended on it. She had returned the kiss with the same vigour having missed her husband despite just waking up.

"How’s your chin?" she’d asked, tracing her index on the small cut. He had grabbed her wrist, kissed her palm before whispering. ’I am fiine’ and then he had kissed her again, for reassurance she knew.

"The day is rather murky, no?" Theodore pointed out as they sat in the palour, her hands on a book, his on her thighs.

Lydia glanced at him. "I believe the day is doing just fine, the mansion is the gloomy bastard"

With a chuckle Theodore reached for her hand and just as he took it into his, she snatched it back.

"Okay here he comes" Lydia squealed, picked the two little packages on her side as she shifted in her seat.

"Happy birthday Conan!" she wished in a soft voice.

Conan paused, relatively surprised. "I have gifts?" he asked with a small tilt of his head.

"Theo has never gotten me a gift for my birthday" he confessed.

"And I still did not, Conan" Theodore grumbled out, wondering when he could get rid of Conan.

"What do we have here?" he asked with a grin.

He started to unwrap the first box, it looks a bit bigger than the other.

A custom-made piece of jewellery, featuring the knights heraldic symbol. Conan was pleased.

"A jewel" he breathed.

"Why, thank you Lady Gooseberry" he said, his smile teasing as he glanced at Theodore.

"Conan" Theodore growled a warning.

Lydia turned in her seat held his gaze as she asked. "Why is it Gooseberry though?"

"I have always thought to ask" she added.

"I just had to." Conan shrugged as he began to put it on.

Theodore took her left hand, his right rindex keeping the errant strands away from her face.

"You are Gooseberry because you are something precious from a tree of thorns" he whispers with a dreamy look on his face.

Conan cringed at the cheesiness. "How sweet of you Theo" he teased.

"Shut up, Conan" Theodore growled.

"I love it" Lydia breathed out.

And as they got lost in the beauty of their eyes they didn’t notice Conan open Helena’s gift.

His gaze darkened. "Where is she?"

Lydia froze before blinking innocently. "Where is who?"

"Helena" and immediately there was a squeak and they all turned to the direction where heels started clanking with the floor in a hasty attempt to get away from them.

Conan stood up instinctively rushing after the movement.

It had to be Helena, he thought.

"Helena!" he yelled.

In the lavish expanse of her friend’s mansion, Helena who had been eavesdropping and quietly watching Conan open his present had involuntarily squeaked when he immediately knew she sent it and then she’d dashed through the ornate living room, her heels tapping anxiously against the polished hardwood floors.

Her hands trembled, betraying the misplaced guilt gnawing at her conscience as she fled from her former male roommate.

His presence is threatening to unravel the sanctuary she had found.

Around every corner, she darted, her perfectly tailored attire a stark contrast to the chaos of her emotions. She could feel him nearing as he yelled her name, calling out to her to stop.

With each passing moment, the weight of her deception bore down upon her, propelling her forward in a desperate bid to outrun both her past and her guilt before they consumed her entirely.

And there, Conan caught sight of her as she ran unsteady on her heels.

"Wait, you could trip, why-" and she fell.

Tripped on her fancy dress so knees and palm first on the marble floor.

"I told you to stop, you are better at clinging than running" Conan scolded as he caught up to her easily.

"You are wrong!" she lashed out at him, her chest heaving, her brows tight. "I have been running all my life!" she added.

"Because you did not have another option" Conan countered, his arms spread in resignation.

She met his eyes from the ground where she now sat comfortably. She was headed to the courtyard.

"You are not alone anymore" he added softly.

She rolled her eyes. "I was not alone, I was surviving"

"You do not have to anymore" he said, squatting in front of her

"I do not have to what?"

"Run, you do not have to run anymore" he whispered confidently. "And even if you have to, run to me"

She reddened, her eyes stung so she blinked. "You are so obnoxious, Conan, leave!" she started to stand up.

"I do not believe I am being obnoxious at this moment, Helena" he retorted, helping her up, both his large warm palms on the side of her shoulders.

"Come back home" he growled into her ear.

"It does not feel the same without you"

She gulped avoiding his gaze. "You saw the news Conan, I am a witch and everyone is beginning to know about it"

He shook his head, one of his arm dropping. "I did not need the news to know who you are and they do not exactly, it is all gossip" he announced. "Besides the Muckraker has yet to say anything about it"

"She will not, which is the good thing, but I cannot come back to the bungalow" she countered confidently.

"Helena" he breathed, his voice pleading.

She shook her head, took a step back before whispering. "Happy birthday Conan, enjoy your day" her eyes and voice solemn.

"Helena-" he started but right in his eyes she’d turned into nothingness. She was gone from his sight.

"Wow" he breathed.

He could let her be now but he was a knight and giving up has never been in the books for them. This temporal peace in Critic-Ishire is his chance to pursue Helena of Critic-Ishelm.

I forgot to thank her, he chided himself mentally.

He had been pleasantly surprised that the lady of Critic Arley had gotten him a gift as he sat upon the plush couch with the couple earlier and with gentle anticipation, he had untied the ribbon adorning the small box nestled in his hands. After opening Lydia’s they had gotten just with themselves whilst he went ahead to see the second gift.

As he lifted the lid, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of the exquisite hair comb nestled within.

The intricate design spoke volumes, evoking memories of an almost long-lost action.

Emotion welled within him as he realized who must have sent this cherished gift, the lady he had been searching for, who had eluded him for a few days that felt like decades now.

Helena.

A wave of bittersweet longing washed over him, mingled with the hope of finally reuniting with her.

In that moment, amidst the loving couple, Conan had felt a surge of determination to seek out Helena, to find her and confess his undying gratitude and willingness to help.

But he has done none of that but watch her disappear.