Felix paused, hanging back as he saw Ingrid near the window in the empty room. A letter was clutched in her hand. Her brow was furrowed, the expression on her face a mixture of guilt, frustration, and, perhaps most unsettling, morose acceptance.
When she moved to start tearing it up, Felix stepped in, speaking up.
“Another letter from your father?”
Ingrid whirled around. She quickly hid the offending letter behind her back, making a show of pretending nothing had been happening.
“Oh, Felix...sorry, I didn’t notice you there. You really need to speak up.”
“I did,” he reminded her, walking over. His gaze trailed to the hands she was hiding behind her back. “I already saw you were reading something. I know that expression. It was from Count Galatea.”
Ingrid stiffened. For a moment it looked like she was going to deny it, but eventually she wilted. She pulled the letter out, to look down at it.
“I...yes. It’s from my father. Again.”
“He’s been sending them to you more frequently now.”
“I’m more than aware,” Ingrid replied, a touch of bitterness to her voice, before it softened. “The school year is half over, so in his mind, I’ve had plenty of time to find a suitable husband. Now, he’s sending me people to consider. I feel as though he’s just trying to put pressure on me to find someone better for our family.”
Felix frowned, looking away. He always did have trouble looking into someone’s eyes too long as they spoke. More so for Ingrid when she was upset.
“You’re his daughter. Not a bargaining chip to bet his family fortunes on. The man I remember from childhood wouldn’t be behaving like this. It seems we’ve all changed these past four years.”
Ingrid looked away then, too. She crumpled the letter in her hand, sorrow touching her face. “Back then, my future, and the future of House Galatea, was already secure. He had no reason to worry.”
The silence that followed carried unspoken understanding. Out of perhaps everyone, Glenn’s absence was most acutely felt by the two of them. At first, it had brought some measure of comfort. Now, though, it made Felix’s stomach twist.
He crossed his arms. A minute later, he spoke again.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about getting them anymore. I wrote to your father.”
Ingrid’s head shot up at that, her eyes widening. “You what? Felix! This is my family’s business, I don’t want--”
“Would you let me finish?” Felix grumbled, putting a hand on his hip, raising his gaze back to her face. “I wrote to Count Galatea on my own behalf. I told him that I’d become aware the situation was causing you and his family undue distress. As the new heir of my family, I have every intention of fulfilling House Fraldarius’ former agreement.”
Ingrid froze. The way she stared at him made him feel like he’d grown another pair of arms.
Felix quickly averted his gaze, lifting a hand to his head. Goddess, why did it feel so hot in this room all of a sudden?
“I-It’s not like I’m demanding you marry me, that’s not it. I’m not Glenn. I’ll never be him, and I’d never try to replace him. I just...ngh. I’m tired of seeing you so upset all the time. It’s...annoying me. Our families are good friends. I’m not going to let your house fall just because...”
His sentences were all cutting each other off. Smooth. Very smooth. He wished he could punch himself.
“Look. You won’t be getting letters anymore. Now you don’t need to worry about finding someone within a few months. I wanted you to...to be able to live your life the way you wanted. You can find someone you actually love at your own pace, if you find them at all. Just don’t go dying for some stupid--”
This time, he was cut off by an abrupt and enthusiastic hug. One that, after the shock had faded, he returned.
And Sothis help him, it wasn’t the room on fire, it was his face.
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