72: Breakfast with a huntress

Breakfast with a huntress

Hold your head up high, hold it up high... She chanted silently in her mind like a mantra, trying to bolster her confidence as she followed Sator who had arrived early in the morning to escort her to the garden where breakfast awaited.1

With red, puffy eyes that hadn't experienced a wink of sleep, Adela frowned as she trailed behind the whistling majordomo. The contrast between Bernard and Sator was painfully evident.

Lost in her thoughts, she found herself outside, too dazed to navigate her way back on her own if she wanted to later on. However, the sight that greeted her when she finally focused knocked her back a step.

"Olga is here already," Sator murmured in surprise.

It wasn't the beauty of the exotic floral garden nor the well-set table with unfamiliar plates and glasses that captivated Adela, but rather the woman seated on Egon's left.

Olga's beauty defied the conventional expectations of Emorian standards. Her face held a surprising hint of masculinity with its angular features. Her eyes were slightly deeper in their sockets, large and expressive, boasting a lighter amber color than her well-defined eyebrows. Her nose — while not delicate — possessed a straight bridge. Her lips had a natural tint and a touch of mischief over perfectly aligned white teeth. And a thick chestnut ponytail waved with every move she made.

Olga was stunning, much like Larissa.

"What happened to your arm?" The wild beauty said, pressing her chest against Egon shamelessly. 

The woman appeared remarkably at ease as she fumbled with the now unnecessary bandage on Egon's shoulder, simultaneously pulling his thin tunic away to get a better look at it.

Egon's gloved hands firmly grasped the woman's wrists, gently pushing her away with a practiced motion that suggested he had performed this action countless times before. His unwavering gaze remained fixed on Adela, his eyes revealing a myriad of emotions.

"Good morning," Adela greeted, her eyes darting back and forth between the two, feeling no inclination to extend a proper introduction to the woman.

Egon rose from his seat and pulled out the chair to his right. "Have a seat," he invited.

Does he truly expect me to sit on his right and face that woman? 

With a smile that was forced and insincere, she walked over to the seat at the head of the table, directly opposite Egon. She took her place and raised her gaze to meet his, carefully noting the tension in his clenched jaw.

A flustered Sator, swiftly switched the plates from the seat initially designated for Adela to the one she had chosen, seemingly unfazed by Egon's piercing glare.

"Thank you, Sator," Adela responded with excessive cheerfulness, determined to maintain her composure in the face of the uncomfortable situation.

"Please try this, My Lady!" Sator's voice brimmed with enthusiasm as he presented a tray filled with layers of delicate pastries, each one featuring a distinct combination of colorful ingredients. With utmost care, he placed a piece onto Adela's plate, his eyes reflecting a glimmer of anticipation.

As Adela admired the dish before her, she suddenly heard a derisive snort coming from the now openly hostile woman beside Egon, her eyes all but ate at Adela's coat. 

"Does she possess no sense of temperature? Or is she as cold as she appears?" She mocked.

Raising her gaze with icy determination, Adela responded, "Thank you for your concern. I am indeed in the process of acquainting myself with the empire, including its weather and the hospitality of its inhabitants."

Whether the woman fully grasped the subtle jab hidden within Adela's words or not, she averted her eyes and redirected her attention to Egon, pointing at a dish positioned near him.

"Try this. It may be quite bony, but I caught it for amusement yesterday and thought it would make an interesting gift for the kitchen," the woman remarked, her leg trembling as if in response to an unseen earthquake. Her gaze briefly flickered towards Adela. "Of course, those who possess a weaker constitution may find the flavor too intense to handle."

Curious about the other woman's constitution now, Adela's gaze roved over Olga's body, taking note of the intricately crafted leather tunic and the fitted vest with numerous pouches and pockets. Her trousers were all but painted on her sturdy legs, while her leather boots extended up to her thighs.

A huntress.

Breaking the intense staring contest, Olga shifted her attention back to Egon. "I've heard all about Andreas... Why is it that men are drawn to weak women? Do you feel superior by sheltering them under your wing? Or perhaps the women in this empire are too headstrong for you?"

Adela took a tasteless bite of her breakfast, her mind preoccupied with the realization that Olga's agitation had little to do with Andreas and more to do with the man sitting silently beside her.

The huntress's irritation seemed to intensify when her attempts to provoke Adela yielded no visible reaction.

"Being born a woman there must be hell," she hissed at Adela, her narrowed eyes filled with disdain. "All you are expected to do is reproduce and serve as arm candy for a man."

"Olga." Egon warned.

"What? Andreas changes women as easily as he changes trousers. Are you telling me he's now settling down with someone other than Lotus? They'll probably get married only to separate shortly after. Shouldn't we intervene?"

Having heard enough, Adela's voice cut through the air.

"I must inform you that the person you speak ill of is my sister. And the man whose choice you disrespect is already courting her."

Olga emitted another derisive snort, but Adela calmly set down her fork and fixed her gaze squarely on her.

"You were just boasting about the strength of Kolhis women, yet isn't taking cheap shots at someone who is not currently present a display of weakness?"

The piercing shriek from above abruptly interrupted the tense conversation, causing all three of them to look at the sky.

"A falcon?" Adela gasped, a tinge of melancholy coloring her voice.

Seizing the opportunity to strike another blow, Olga remarked, "You should be very concerned. It could kill you with one swipe of its talons."

Egon's hand forcefully slammed onto the table.

"This breakfast is over," he declared.

Adela's glistening eyes landed on Egon's face, red with anger as he glared at Olga.

"You will guide us to the Healer, and then we will be on our way,"

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