34 - Knowing

Sarah had thought exhaustion would claim her the moment she lay down.

The journey had worn her thin—dust clinging to her cloak, the endless weight of worry pressed against her chest, and then, the ordeal of facing Baron Eldwin.

That meeting replayed in her head over and over. His quiet gaze, the measured way he had spoken, the way Darren had stood so proudly, declaring what she herself had never dared to utter aloud.

She had been certain sleep would sweep her away. But though her body begged for rest, her mind refused it. Thoughts circled endlessly, a hawk wheeling above prey.

She turned again and again on the bed, staring up at the ceiling beams until the faint gray of dawn slowly gave way to morning light spilling through the shutters.

It is early in the morning now. A new day had arrived—and still, Sarah had not truly slept. It was not only the grandeur of the manor that made her restless, though that alone was enough to unsettle her.

The soft sheets beneath her felt foreign. The polished wood, the faint scent of oil lamps and beeswax polish, the hushed quiet—all of it reminded her that she was in Darren’s world now.

His home. The house of a noble. The very place she had once walked in simpler clothes, head bowed, hands busy with chores.

And now… she was here not as a servant, but as Darren’s chosen partner.

Her heart squeezed every time that truth brushed her thoughts. Could she really belong here?

The knock on her door startled her from those spiraling doubts. Light, polite, yet oddly familiar.

Sarah sat up, rubbing her face. “Who is it?” she called, her voice rough from disuse.

“It’s me,” came a lilting reply, female and tinged with mischief. “Riona. Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten me?”

Sarah froze. Recognition hit instantly. Riona. A name from years past, from laughter and whispered secrets between laundry shifts, from stern corrections by their mentors when the two of them let their tongues wag too freely.

Her hands trembled slightly as she went to the door. When she opened it, there she was—Riona, still bearing that ever-present grin that Sarah remembered so well.

She looked older, of course. Time had honed her features into a sharper elegance, but her eyes still danced with the same playful light.

“Riona…” Sarah breathed, half in disbelief.

“You’re awake earlier than I thought you’d be,” Riona said as she slipped inside without waiting for an invitation. “Couldn’t sleep, could you?”

Sarah gave a weak laugh and closed the door. “Something like that.”

Riona made herself comfortable, dragging a chair toward the bed and flopping into it with casual ease. “I don’t blame you. If I were in your shoes, sleeping under the same roof as the young lord after all these years…” She tilted her head, grin widening. “…I’d probably be tossing and turning, too.”

Sarah flushed and sat on the edge of her bed, fingers twisting in her lap. “It’s not… well, maybe it is that,” she admitted. She was too tired to fence words, too weary to dance around truth.

That only made Riona’s grin grow. “So you do admit it. You’ve come back not just to work or visit, but for him.”

Sarah groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Riona…”

“What? I’m only saying what everyone with eyes can see.” Riona leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “You always tried to hide it before. You’d blush, you’d make excuses, you’d pretend he was nothing more than the baron’s son while staring at him like he held the sun in his pocket. But now—” She gestured at Sarah with her free hand. “Now you’re here, in his manor, after traveling gods-know-how-far with him. If that’s not facing your feelings, I don’t know what is.”

Sarah lowered her hands slowly. The heat in her cheeks remained, but her expression had softened, honesty breaking through exhaustion. “You’re right. I stopped running. I… I couldn’t anymore.”

Riona blinked. For once, her teasing faltered, surprise overtaking her. “You really said it.”

Sarah gave a small, tired smile. “Maybe because I’m too worn out to keep lying to myself. Or maybe because if I didn’t, I’d lose him.” Her voice wavered, but the words rang clear. “I love him, Riona. I’ve always loved him. And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

Silence hung between them for a heartbeat before Riona’s grin returned, softer this time, touched with genuine warmth. “Finally,” she whispered. “Took you long enough.”

Sarah laughed weakly. “You sound like Luna.”

“Luna?” Riona tilted her head. “Who’s that?”

The mention of the little girl drew Sarah’s thoughts immediately to her. A spark of fondness bloomed across her features.

“She’s… someone unexpected. Someone who came into our lives when I least thought I needed her—and yet she changed everything.”

And so Sarah told her.

She spoke of the inn, of the late afternoon Luna had walked in, small and curious, with eyes that seemed too knowing for her face.

She described how the girl had listened so intently to her stories of Tierra, how she had eaten her stew with innocent delight. How Luna had, with startling simplicity, given advice that pierced through fears Sarah had carried for years.

“She told me to stop hiding,” Sarah murmured, voice softening. “She told me that love wasn’t something to run from. That if I kept pushing Darren away, I’d only hurt myself more. She was so… blunt. And yet so kind.”

Riona listened intently, her mischievous smile fading into one of interest.

Sarah continued, her words gaining momentum as memories spilled forth. She spoke of Luna’s overwhelming power, how she had stood against threats far greater than any child—or even adult—should have been able to face.

She recalled how Luna had saved them, how she had carried strength beyond her appearance, and yet still remained innocent in spirit.

“She’s… remarkable,” Sarah finished, her voice carrying both awe and gratitude. “If not for her, I think I’d still be at the inn. Still regretting. Still running.”

Riona leaned back in her chair, lips pursed thoughtfully. “This Luna… she sounds less like a child and more like a miracle dropped in your lap.”

Sarah smiled faintly. “That’s what she feels like.”

For a long moment, the two sat in quiet reflection. The morning light filtered through the shutters, painting stripes of gold across the room. Sarah felt lighter somehow, as though speaking the truth aloud had eased some invisible weight.

But Riona’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “You know,” she said slowly, “the way you describe her—powerful, wise, yet small and unassuming—it makes me wonder.”

“Wonder what?”

“Whether you truly know who she is.”

Sarah, startled by the shift in tone. “What do you mean?”

Riona leaned forward, her grin returning, sharper now. “Because I do.”

Riona’s grin sharpened into the kind of expression Sarah remembered well—the look of someone about to drop a stone into still waters just to watch the ripples spread.

“You’ve been traveling with her, haven’t you? Talking with her, fighting beside her. And yet, you don’t know who she is.”

Sarah frowned. “I told you—I don’t. Only that she’s… special.”

“Special,” Riona echoed, chuckling. “That’s one way to put it. But no, Sarah. She’s not just special. She’s extraordinary. That little girl you describe so fondly… she’s the daughter of Duchess Valerie Terra.”

The words struck like a hammer blow.

Sarah blinked once. Then twice. A silence fell, so thick that even the faint rustle of the wind at the shutters seemed distant. “The… daughter of—what?”

Riona leaned back in her chair, arms folding comfortably as though she’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“You heard me. The daughter of Duchess Valerie Terra.” She tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “The Terra family. Surely you’ve heard the name.”

Sarah’s lips parted, but no sound emerged. The name struck chords of memory, half-forgotten lessons from her brief time at the academy, hushed conversations among the maids, tales that had drifted even into villages. Terra. A name carved into history.

“I…” She swallowed, throat dry. “The Duchess of the Empire. The genius who graduated from the Dragon Slayer Knight Academy at twenty-one. The imperial knight who reached Level Seven while still young.”

Riona’s grin softened. “That’s the one. Valerie Terra.”

Sarah’s hands trembled in her lap. She remembered whispers among the trainees at the manor, stories of a prodigy who could match ten men in battle, who commanded magic and blade alike. Someone untouchable. Someone from a world Sarah could barely comprehend.

And Luna—her Luna, the girl who ate stew with childish delight and offered blunt advice with candy in her mouth—was her daughter?

“That’s impossible,” Sarah whispered, shaking her head. “She’s… she’s just…”

Riona arched a brow. “And yet, didn’t you just finish telling me how she faced things grown men would flinch from? How she carried strength beyond her size? How she saved you, saved Darren? You already knew she wasn’t normal, Sarah. You just didn’t connect the pieces.”

Sarah’s chest tightened. “But… she never said anything. Not once.”

“Of course she didn’t.” Riona shrugged. “If she’s really who they say she is, then she’s grown up with formality clinging to her like a second skin. Maybe she doesn’t want that. Maybe she just wants to be Luna, not ‘Lady Luna Terra, daughter of the Duchess.’”

The thought sent a pang through Sarah. Images flooded her mind, Luna laughing as she tugged Darren into honesty, Luna sneaking sweets into her pockets, Luna gazing at the world with unfiltered wonder.

Could that same girl truly be the heir to one of the empire’s most powerful houses?

Sarah hugged her arms to herself, suddenly cold. “Then… all this time… I was treating her as a child. As a friend. Was I… disrespecting her?”

Riona’s grin softened again, touched with understanding. “Sarah. If she let you treat her that way, then it’s because that’s what she wanted. Think about it. A noble child—no, a duchess’s daughter—chooses to spend her time with you. Doesn’t that say something?”

Sarah’s eyes stung. She shook her head quickly. “I don’t know what to think anymore. Everything feels so far above me, Riona. Darren, his father, and now Luna—if she really is who you say she is—then what place do I have among them?”

Riona reached forward, catching Sarah’s hand in hers. “The same place you’ve always had. Beside them. Don’t twist it into something it’s not. You’ve faced demon worshippers, Sarah. You’ve stood your ground when others would’ve fled. Do you think titles make people worthy of love or loyalty? No. Actions do. And you’ve proven yours.”

Sarah’s breath caught. She wanted to believe Riona. She wanted desperately to believe.

But the shadow of doubt clung to her heart still.

Elsewhere, on the manor’s training grounds, the air rang with steel.

Darren swung his blade in practiced arcs, the rhythm of his strikes echoing against the walls. The other knights watched with approving eyes, some nodding at his form, others matching him in drills.

But Darren’s mind was elsewhere.

The words had reached him through whispers among the knights—Luna’s true name, her lineage, the weight of her blood. Daughter of Duchess Terra. Granddaughter of William Terra, the Duke-emeritus of the Empire.

His blade faltered mid-swing, the arc breaking. He stood still, staring at nothing, his grip slackening.

Memories crashed over him. Luna’s sharp words urging him to confess to Sarah. Her small hand pointing at him with authority far larger than her body. The way she had protected them, her magic bursting forth with power that defied reason.

All of it, in hindsight, made sense. Too much sense.

And yet, he had never seen her as anyone but Luna. The strange, blunt, curious girl who had turned his world upside down.

“Young lord?” a knight asked, stepping closer. “Are you well?”

Darren blinked, snapping back to the present. His blade lowered. “I…” He hesitated, then laughed weakly. “I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“That she was… that.” Darren’s smile faltered into something softer, more bewildered. “The daughter of Duchess Terra.”

The knight nodded solemnly. “None of us did. But Head Butler Cedric told us she wished to be treated casually. To forget the titles. Said formality suffocates her.”

Darren’s eyes widened slightly, then softened. Casual. Yes, that word fit her perfectly. Luna, who refused to bow to weight she didn’t care for. Luna, who carried herself not as a noble’s daughter but as a free spirit.

A chuckle escaped him, small but genuine. He wiped a hand over his face, shaking his head. “Of course she did.”

He thought of Sarah, of the courage Luna had helped her find. He thought of himself, of how much braver he had become under her prodding. And for the first time, he wondered—what would her future be?

He was a noble’s son. His path was already set, service to the empire, loyalty to the emperor. Yet when he thought of the years ahead, he saw not the emperor’s, but Luna’s small figure, standing proud against a world too large.

Perhaps one day, he thought, his blade would not be for crown or throne, but for her. For Duchess Luna Terra.

The thought settled heavy and sure in his chest, and Darren resumed his drills with renewed focus, though his strikes carried a quiet resolve that hadn’t been there before.

And in the manor itself, the storm of revelation, doubt, and newfound loyalty swirled unnoticed around a single room.

Baron Eldwin’s office was dim, its lamps burned low, its hearth crackling softly. On the sofa, curled beneath a blanket, Luna slept soundly.

Her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, her lips slightly parted, her hand curled around nothing but air. In her dreams, perhaps, she wandered far-off worlds, or maybe only savored the simple sweetness of rest.

The weight of her lineage, the whispers spreading through the manor, the silent vows forming in Darren’s heart—none of it touched her.

She slept on, oblivious, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

And outside that room, the empire shifted one small step closer to the future she would one day inherit.