Chapter 279: Morning Training Without Monika

The next morning, Ulrich woke early as usual.

He had gradually recovered the routine his injuries had interrupted. Rising before the household stirred, he went to the training yard beside the estate and began with the exercises his body could bear without aches. He had increased their difficulty over the past few days, adding repetitions and returning to movements he had set aside while his ribs and arm healed.

There was still some stiffness in his left side. He felt it when he raised the practice sword too quickly or held a position for longer than he should. Ulrich paid attention to those warnings, however irritating he found them. Pushing through an injury merely to prove that he could endure pain would achieve nothing if it delayed his recovery.

But caution did not mean remaining idle.

His body needed work to recover its strength, and he intended to give it that work in steadily greater amounts. If he continued without doing anything foolish, he expected to regain his former condition within a month. He had no intention of allowing that month to become two because he had lost patience with a stiff arm.

That morning, he had only one spectator close enough to follow every part of his training.

Esther stood behind a pillar at the edge of the yard, her blond head peeking around it whenever she thought he was occupied enough not to notice. She had watched him practise so often that she recognised much of the sequence. When he finished one set of movements, she could usually guess which would come next, though that did not make her any less interested.

She never seemed to tire of watching.

There was something reassuring about finding him here in the morning. After the capital, Valmoria, and the frightening days when he could barely leave his bed, seeing him return to his usual habits made the estate feel more normal. He was still careful with some movements, but he no longer had to stop as often as he had when he first resumed training.

Esther looked around the yard.

Airam and Hermione sometimes came with her. This morning, there was no sign of either sister.

Airam’s absence was understandable. Yesterday had gone badly for her, and no amount of encouragement from Esther or Hermione had improved her mood. She had struggled through Shana’s lesson while both younger girls found their Trees, then returned to the house to see Ceres receiving Ulrich’s attention.

That had made an already difficult afternoon worse.

Airam had been upset enough that she stayed in the sisters’ room throughout the night. She had not gone to Ulrich’s chamber, though the decision had been less an attempt to punish him with her absence than a precaution against her own temper. She knew how readily her witchcraft could answer feelings she had not meant to release. After what happened in the yard, she had no wish to risk doing something near him that she might regret afterward.

Remaining with her sisters had been the wiser choice. It had done little to quiet her thoughts and prevented her from doing something to Ulrich.

Hermione’s absence puzzled Esther more.

When she asked whether Hermione wanted to come and watch Ulrich train, her sister refused with such irritation that Esther decided not to ask a second time. Hermione had turned away and made it clear that she preferred to remain upstairs.

Esther assumed it was because of Ceres.

Both elder sisters had been displeased at dinner, and Esther knew Hermione could hold on to a grievance long after she stopped speaking about it. She had not explained why she seemed even angrier this morning, and Esther had chosen to leave her alone rather than risk an argument before the day began.

Her own spirits were much better.

Monika’s idea had given her something to look forward to. Whenever she thought about it, she found herself smiling, imagining how Ulrich might respond when he learned what they intended. Perhaps he would look surprised. Perhaps he would try to remain stern and fail.

Esther giggled quietly behind the pillar.

Then she remembered Monika.

She looked toward the place where the maid usually waited near the end of Ulrich’s training. It was empty.

That was strange.

Monika sometimes arrived later than usual if something in the house delayed her, but she always came before Ulrich finished. Esther had seen her appear with a fresh towel countless times over the past two years. Often she waited for an hour, watching quietly until he was ready to take it.

This morning, she had not appeared at all.

Esther checked the doors leading into the house, then the path beside the yard. There was no sign of her coming.

Ulrich had reached the last part of his routine. He would finish soon, and there was no towel waiting for him.

Esther hesitated only a moment before slipping back inside.

She found one of the maids carrying linen and asked for a fresh towel. The woman gave her one without questioning the request, though she looked mildly surprised when Esther thanked her and hurried back toward the yard.

By the time she returned, Ulrich was still practising.

Esther went to Monika’s usual place and stood there with the towel folded over her hands. She tried to arrange it neatly, smoothing an edge that had come loose while she ran.

Normally, she would have remained behind the pillar. Ulrich had noticed her watching before and did not seem to approve of her spending so much of the morning observing him rather than attending to her own preparations. Now, however, she had a perfectly good reason to be there.

Someone needed to bring him his towel.

She waited patiently, resisting the urge to glance toward the house again. If Monika arrived now, Esther could explain that she had only wanted to help.

A couple of minutes later, Ulrich finished.

He drove the tip of his wooden practice sword into a soft patch of ground and left it standing while he took several breaths. The final exercises had required more effort than they once would have, but his breathing recovered. He rolled his left shoulder with care, testing whether the stiffness had worsened, then turned toward the waiting figure at the edge of the yard.

Esther straightened.

Without the pillar between them, she suddenly felt far more conspicuous. Ulrich was still dressed for training, his shirt set aside and his skin damp from exertion. In the morning light, the marks of old wounds and newer injuries were plainly visible. Esther’s attention caught briefly on the scars left by the dangers he had faced, then she lifted her eyes to his face as he approached.

He looked much more like himself again.

His mother’s features showed strongly in him, softened only a little by the fatigue of the morning’s work. The dark crimson hair and the eyes that made his expression so difficult to meet belonged definitely to the other side of his family.

Ulrich frowned when he saw that it was Esther holding the towel.

“Where is Monika?”

“I haven’t seen her,” Esther replied.

He took the towel from her hands.

Esther watched him wipe his face and neck, then glanced toward the house once more. She had expected him to be pleased that she had thought to help, or at least to ask why she was standing there instead of hiding. His attention seemed occupied by Monika’s absence.

Ulrich looked around the yard.

There was still no sign of his personal maid. She knew his routine well enough that he rarely had to think about whether she would be there. Even when other duties delayed her, someone came in her place, or she appeared with an apology for being late.

Esther had evidently taken it upon herself to supply what was missing.

Then he remembered the previous night.

Monika had entered his office with tea and found Shana in front of him at exactly the wrong moment. He had tried to explain, but she had withdrawn before he could finish. After that came Hermione’s appearance, another accusation, and a slammed door.

He had ended the evening with more misunderstandings than he had begun it.

At the time, Monika’s reaction had irritated him chiefly because she had not listened. Remembering it now, he found himself thinking about the tears in her eyes.

She had looked hurt.

Not merely embarrassed at walking into something she believed was intimate. Her expression had changed too quickly for that.

Ulrich’s own expression hardened.

He could ignore it. Monika would return to her duties, Shana would eventually explain herself, and there was no reason for him to concern himself with every conclusion someone drew from an unfortunate moment in his office.

Yet the thought did not satisfy him.

He disliked knowing that Monika might still believe he had summoned Shana for that purpose. He disliked, more than he cared to admit, remembering how she had looked before closing the door.

Ulrich lowered the towel.

Whatever else required his attention that morning, he did not intend to let that misunderstanding continue.