Love's Unexpected Awakening Elowen's Choice novel Chapter 513

Iris lowered her eyes, her voice soft and measured. "It's nothing more than what I'm expected to do, my lord. I couldn't possibly take credit for it."

Honestly, even something as simple as refilling drinks... I could've just had Tristan do it.

But Iris always found a way to take those tasks herself, smooth and unnoticeable, as if it were only natural.

After what happened to Daphne, she had learned her lesson.

Someone in her position could not afford to drift along and hope for the best. If she wanted a future, she had to build it herself, piece by piece, before the ground beneath her shifted.

She had already asked around about Leonhart.

His father, Duke Roland, had a reputation across Avenlor as a man who lived comfortably and stayed far from court politics. He held rank and wealth, yet kept himself untouched by the power struggles that swallowed others whole.

In some ways, that made his household even more desirable than Duskmoor Manor.

There was security there. Stability. No constant maneuvering, no endless traps to avoid.

And Leonhart himself, despite his status, was nothing like Alaric. He lacked the arrogance, the sharp temper. If anything, he was soft-hearted, easygoing, and treated those around him with a rare kind of fairness.

If she could serve at his side, her future would be far easier.

That was why she made herself visible to him whenever she could, making sure he would remember her face, her presence.

"Iris," Leonhart said, leaning a little closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret, "earlier you mentioned Alaric and Maerwyn had some kind of falling-out? What happened? It looked serious."

Iris lowered her gaze further, her expression tightening just enough. "I shouldn't be speaking about matters like that."

Leonhart's tone turned earnest, almost coaxing. "Come on, just between us. I won't repeat it, I swear. It's not like anyone else is listening. You can't expect me to just forget it now, can you?"

Iris hesitated.

Then suddenly, a faint chill crept along her spine.

Subtle, but unmistakable.

Someone was watching her.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes flicking toward Alaric.

But it wasn't him.

He sat alone, shoulders tense, drinking steadily, lost in his own thoughts, paying no attention to anything else.

So who?

"Iris?"

Leonhart nudged again, softer this time, almost pleading. "Please? No one's going to blame you for this."

Iris pushed the unease aside and turned back to him.

It still struck her how rare this was. A man of his standing, speaking to her so casually, so closely, as if there were no distance between them.

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