Chapter 295: Aria Everhart

Eve's fingers tightened around her teacup, the porcelain creaking under pressure. "That's not an answer, Isabella."

The morning sunlight caught the steam rising from Isabella's tea as she took another deliberate sip. "My dear Eve," she murmured, "must everything be a battle with you? After last night's... medicinal rest, I'd think you'd be grateful for the care."

Sophia's chair scraped against the marble floor as she leaned forward. "What I'm grateful for is honesty Mom. None of us remember anything after the soup course."

Her gaze darted between Adrian's stiff posture and Seraphina's white-knuckled grip on her chair. "Yet you three seem remarkably... refreshed. It's totally suspicious you know."

A strangled noise escaped Adrian's throat that caught the attention of everyone in the room.

"Adrian? Are you okay," Sophia asked with concern.

Seraphina seized the moment before Adrian could respond.

The prisoners—and the Harbinger," she interjected, her voice firm. "We didn't just capture cultists. I have captured the soul of the Abyssal Harbinger as well in the hopes of curing Isolda. We should be focusing on that and not in these trivial matters right now."

She paused, letting the weight of that sink in.

The effect was immediate. Chris's fork froze halfway to her mouth, her bronze skin paling. "You think... the Harbinger itself would tell us?"

"If we make it," Seraphina said darkly.

Eve opened her mouth to continue with the previous topic, but Sophia cut her off with a sharp gesture toward Chris.

Christine reached across the table to squeeze her sister's hand. "We should check," she murmured, her usually vibrant voice subdued. "After all this time... if there's even a chance...Mother..."

The weight in the air shifted palpably. Eve's protest died on her lips as she took in the sisters' hopeful expressions. She exhaled sharply through her nose but said nothing.

Adrian seized the opportunity, pushing back his chair with sudden energy. "Then we're agreed." His deep voice carried an uncharacteristic urgency.

"Eat quickly. I'll have the guards prepare the interrogation chamber for the cultist members. Mom, big sis and Eve, you guys conduct the interrogation on them. As for the Abyssal Harbringer, Aunt, me and Christine will probably suffice."

Rosalyn tapped her knife against her plate with a sharp ting. "And what about me?" Her dark eyes flashed between them. "Where do I fit in this little operation?"

Adrian turned toward his aunt, his expression softening. "I was hoping you'd watch the little one while we handle this. She shouldn't see..." He glanced at the others before lowering his voice. "...the darker side of what needs to be done."

Rosalyn's lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded. "Fine. But only because I refuse to let that child anywhere near a demon's soul or fanatical cultists." She stabbed a piece of fruit with more force than necessary. "Though someone should tell her why her 'papa' keeps disappearing—"

A sudden commotion at the dining hall doors cut her off. A frazzled maid burst in, struggling to contain a squirming, tear-streaked bundle in her arms. "M-my lords! Forgive the interruption, but she woke up asking for—"

PAPA!" The little one's wail cut through the hall as she spotted Adrian. Her tiny fists pushed against the maid's shoulders, her face red and damp with tears.

The moment the maid set her down, she took off at a wobbly run, her nightgown flapping around her knees.

Adrian was out of his chair before anyone could react. In three long strides, he met her halfway, sweeping her up just as she crashed into his legs.

"Hey now, what's all this?" He cradled her against his chest, one large hand supporting her back as she buried her face in his neck. "I'm right here, little star."

Her tiny body shook with hiccuping sobs. "Y-you weren't there when I woke up! A-and Martha said you were all busy!" She pulled back just enough to glare accusingly at the assembled adults. "You're always busy now!"

A muscle jumped in Adrian's jaw as he smoothed her wild curls. "I know. I'm sorry." He pressed a kiss to her damp forehead. "We had important work to—"

"No!" Her small fists bunched in his shirt. I don't want to be alone again. I want to be with Papa and Mama.

The raw hurt in her voice made several wince. Isabella rose gracefully, but Seraphina was already moving, her chair scraping back as she rounded the table.

"Hey, sweetheart." Seraphina brushed a tear from the child's cheek with her thumb. "Your papa didn't forget. Look..."

She gestured to the spread of food. "We waited for you. See? We have so much delicious food for you here.

The little one sniffled, peering at the table with suspicious, red-rimmed eyes. "...Really?"

"Really," Adrian murmured, adjusting her in his arms. He shot a glance at the others—a silent plea.

The tension in the little one's shoulders eased slightly.

A giggle escaped the child, fragile as glass. Adrian exhaled, his grip tightening briefly before he carried her to the table.

Rosalyn pulled out the chair with a gentle smile, but the little one shook her head violently, clinging tighter to Adrian's neck. "No! I want to sit with Papa!"

Adrian chuckled as he settled back into his own chair with the child in his lap. "Alright, little star. But you have to actually eat, not just pout." He reached for a honey-drizzled pastry, breaking off a small piece.

The little one obediently opened her mouth like a baby bird, kicking her feet contentedly as he fed her. "Mmm! More, Papa!"

As Adrian continued feeding her with surprising patience, he addressed the others. "The plan stands. We move within the hour."

Nods circled the table, though Isabella's lips quirked as she watched father and daughter.

Christine suddenly leaned forward, her eyes bright. "Big brother...have you chosen a name for her yet?"

The little one perked up, crumbs dusting her chin. "Name? What is that?"

Adrian's hands stilled. The table fell silent as all eyes turned to them.

Seraphina reached over to brush a curl from the child's face. "Just like Papa is called Adrian, and Mama is Seraphina, you should have a special something to be called by and that sweetheart, is called name."

The little one's brow furrowed. "But...I want to be called Adrian! Like Papa!"

A surprised laugh rumbled around the room at her innocent answer.

"That's a strong, brave name—but it's a boy's name, little star. You deserve something as beautiful as you are."

He tilted his head in thought. "How about...Aria?"

The child tested the name silently, mouthing the syllables.

"It means 'melody'," Isabella supplied softly, her crimson eyes unusually tender.

"Or Aveline," Rosalyn offered. "Like the morning mist over the silverleaf trees."

The little one squirmed excitedly. "More! More names!"

Adrian chuckled. "Aurelia? That means golden dawn." His finger pinched her little nose. "Perfect for my little light-bringer."

But the child's eyes had gone round at the first suggestion. "Aria," she whispered reverently, as if tasting honey for the first time.

Then louder: "I want to be Aria!"

Seraphina's breath caught. Adrian's arms tightened around the girl—Aria—as something deep and wounded in his chest knit itself back together. "Then Aria you shall be," he murmured into her hair.

Christine clapped her hands. "Aria Everhart! It's perfect!"