Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 216: Shi’Enz & Hound.

Chapter 216: Shi’Enz & Hound.

Night.

Theodore Mansion.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

****************

In this cold winter night, the sky a deep, inky black, with crisp air, carrying the faint scent of pine light flickered in the kitchen of the grand Theodore mansion, Hound was carefully wrapping a bundle in the warm light of his kitchen.

His white clothing stood in stark contrast to the dimly lit room, giving him an ethereal appearance. He took a final look at his creation, biscuits he’d baked with care, before securing the package and slipping it into his satchel.

Wrapping himself in a thick white cloak, he stepped out into the night, his breath visible in the cold air. He walked to the stable and opened a space, a majestic horse with a sleek coat, waiting patiently. With a graceful motion, he mounted the horse and urged it forward, the hooves beating a rhythmic pattern on the ground.

The journey through the city was swift; the streets were deserted, the world around him silent except for the occasional howl of the wind. Hound rode with purpose, his eyes fixed ahead, the estate without a fence standing as his destination on the opposite side of the city.

Upon arrival, he dismounted with practiced ease and approached the building, his eyes scanning for the familiar balcony. He scaled the side of the house with agile movements and as his eyes landed on the balcony he took a deep breath before hauling himself up, his stomach muscles ached and clenched but he held back a grunt not to wake her up, the cold metal railings biting into his hands before he landed softly on the balcony, her doors were ajar, inviting him in, his footsteps soundless as he entered the room.

The dim glow of the fireplace cast a soft light over Shi’Enz, who laid on the edge of her bed, her chest rising and falling gently in sleep. She wore a delicate pink nightdress that contrasted with the pale hues of her room. Her honey-brown hair spilled over the pillow, framing her serene face.

He moved closer, his green eyes taking in every detail. With a tender touch, he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, then carefully rearranged her blanket to shield her from the biting cold. His lips curved into a rare smile, a soft, genuine expression that spoke of deep affection as he watched her mumble.

Quietly, he placed the wrapped biscuits on her bedside table, intending to leave without disturbing her. But as he turned to go, a whisper broke the silence.

"Zachary," she murmured, her voice a soft plea.

He paused, his heart beating faster, and turned back to meet her gaze. Her honey-brown eyes locked onto his deep green ones, holding him in place. Her delicate hand reached out, clutching his white shirt, as if to anchor him there with her.

"You are here," she whispered, a small smile playing on her lips.

Zachary’s expression softened even more as he leaned down, as he helped her sit up. "I couldn’t stay away," he replied, his voice low and full of warmth.

She threw her arms around him and started to shake, he soon noticed she was actually sobbing when she spoke, "Liza is dead"

He could ask who that was but he had a feeling whoever the person was, was important and he would hate to disappoint her by not knowing who it was so he stayed quiet, hugging her tighter by the instruction her arms gave as they tightened around his neck. "She was strict but we loved her, she was the closest to a good sister I had after Lydia and now she is gone forever"

"The king has killed her, he killed my sister" she sobbed harder.

No, Hound mused, her sister that is with the king is dead?

"When did the news reach you?" he asked, his voice calm and collected, it helped Shi’Enz feel a little calmer in the midst of all the happenings.

"Almost a week ago, the body was requested for by mother and we can put her to rest tomorrow"

"I am sorry" he whispered.

She cried harder afterwards expressing her feelings and opinion on the matter, how she feels alone and burdened by the happenings, she felt every gaze on her now was accusatory despite not doing anything, she missed her sisters and the estate was suddenly too silent she could hear a pin drop, if only once her father would let her go out and she would feel a bit better but this was her life and she wanted him in it.

"I feel like I am sinking but mother has already drowned, so I feel guilty because I do not hurt enough"

"Not for the right reasons" she felt her throat constrict choking, that she had to push Hound back a bit to draw in breath, it hurt to breathe, making her clench her palm pressing it to her chest as a knock resounded on her door.

"Shi’Enz my – can you..." the voice trailed off, sobbing. Georgina had come to her daughter for a sense of comfort but she turned around and headed to Liza’s room instead, perhaps her belongings would serve as a link to her.

"Shi’Enz–" Hound started but Shi’Enz cut him off with a firm request, "Stay." he couldn’t say no, he pulled her into a hug again, her tears dampening his shirt

The night outside remained cold and silent, but in that moment, the warmth between them was all that mattered in the midst of the ice water that the Statham family had fallen into.

Moments later, Hound shifted pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead he stood up intending to leave while

"If you could please inform Lydia that tomorrow is Liza’s last rites" She pleaded and in his heart he knew even if he was killed this night, his soul would inform Lydia before he ascended.

He nodded, "Rest, Shi’Enz, you might feel better tomorrow"

She closed her eyes as though hypnotized and slept off, in her sleep there were no dreams and they were no nightmares, she slept free of the burdens that tomorrow would come with.

*

* *

*

Dusk.

Private Cemetery, Statham Estate.

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

***************

Hound did tell Lydia and no animosity or courage helped her through the shock she fell into at the information. Her sister was dead, a sister she had from the day she was born was now gone and never to be communicated with again. She cried the amount her dry eyes could offer before leaving with her husband to her former house.

The air was thick with the crisp chill of the almost-winter morning as mourners gathered for the burial of Miss Liza Statham, the marquis’s first daughter and the Lady of the city, Lady Lydia’s beloved sister.

The Statham estate once lively and noisy, was shrouded in an air of solemnity and sorrow. The grand yet somber building stood as a stark contrast to the grief that permeated the grounds, its stone walls suddenly echoing with whispers of the past and present heartbreak.

A small crowd assembled in the family’s private cemetery, a beautifully kept garden surrounded by ancient yew trees that swayed gently in the cold breeze.

The morning light cast long shadows across the gathered mourners, their breath visible in the frosty air. The sky was a blanket of muted grays, mirrored the somber mood of the day.

At the center of it all was the open grave, where Liza’s coffin, it was adorned with white lilies and roses, as they laid ready to be lowered into the earth.

The vicar stood nearby, his hands folded in front of him, his face etched with a compassionate sadness, the last time he was here he had been forced by Theodore to conduct a marriage ceremony but today he had come by the will of his heart. He was ready to lead the final rites for the young woman whose life had ended all too soon within the walls of the citadel.

Lydia stood beside her husband, Theodore, her face a mask of grief and composure, she was a perfect lady even during grief. Her hand clutched his arm, seeking both support and solace.

Theodore’s presence was a pillar of strength, his own expression a mix of confusion, distraction and guilt. He was the king’s brother, and Liza had died in the king’s custody, now the weight of that connection laid heavily on his shoulders. Since Liza had been with the king, his brother, when she died, and Theodore couldn’t shake the feeling that he bore some responsibility for her fate.

The couple was flanked by Lydia’s two other sisters, Mira and Shi’Enz. Mira, married and now the lady of another noble house, the baron of Critic Arley came alone, she held a handkerchief to her face, her eyes red-rimmed from weeping, she could swear Liza would soon rise from the coffin and call them all silly for crying so pathetically and unculturally, Lydia had been the one to take her modesty lessons most, but she still never accepted her. Shi’Enz, sobbed uncontrollably, her slender frame shaking with each wracking cry. Last night didn’t reduce the tears she had to shed today.

Their mother, Lady Statham, stood close by, her face pale and drawn. She doesn’t cling to her husband like half of the kingdom know her to do, now of all times and the city noticed.

The marquis, took deep breathes so many times, his face was beet red, he seemed to have aged years in just a few days. His strong, authoritative presence was now overshadowed by the weight of his loss, his shoulders hunched and his eyes hollow. The grief of losing a child had carved deep lines into his face, and his usually commanding voice was quiet and subdued and now his beloved was furious and he could do nothing to appease her because no promise could bring back her first child.

A cluster of sympathizers and onlookers had gathered a respectful distance away. Among them were close friends and extended family, their expressions reflecting genuine sorrow. There were also the inevitable gossipers, whispering among themselves, their curiosity and speculation only momentarily overshadowed by the solemnity of the occasion. The cold air carried snippets of their murmurs, blending with the soft rustling of leaves and the quiet sobs that punctuated the silence.

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