CHAPTER 408: COMING TO A HEAD

"Are these selections displeasing?" the maid wondered, worried at Irene’s initial frown that she quickly trained to neutral.

"It isn’t your fault," Irene assured the woman. "It’s just that I don’t wear dresses, considering my position in the knighthood. It would be a bad thing if I wasn’t able to move properly because of inhibiting and unprotective clothing."

The maid placed a hand on her chin as her eyes went over the options laid out.

"Then perhaps..."

As her eyes landed on something, the maid moved aside a few of the dresses and was pleased to find something simpler and suitable to Irene’s tastes—or at least that’s what she thought. She lifted up a tunic and jacket. The tunic itself was merely an off white color, and the beige jacket had golden leaf patterns along the sleeves and neckline. It was still a bit too decorated for her tastes, but she wasn’t going to complain, considering it wasn’t a dress and it seemed suitable for a knight.

Was this her mother’s consideration? Or perhaps her father had given her a more neutral option as a compromise. She wasn’t entirely sure. Her mother’s disapproval was always lingering.

"This is much better," Irene responded quickly. "Thank you. I shouldn’t need help getting changed."

"Yes, my lady," the maid relented. "Call if you need any other assistance."

The knight nodded before she grabbed the matching pants and disappeared into the bathroom. There was a mirror in there that she was going to have to get good use out of, no matter if she liked it or not.

After pulling on the clothing and finding that her leather belt and sword fit perfectly on the outside of the jacket, though higher on her waist than she would usually wear it, Irene then stared at herself in the mirror.

"Ugh..." she let out a slightly annoyed sigh.

Her hair was a bit chaotic, considering she took a bath and let it air dry while she was lounging around. She decided the only option was to wet it again and get it tamed appropriately. After all, at the dinner, there would not only be her father but also other nobles. Even if she didn’t care how she looked as a woman, she should present herself as neatly as she possibly could.

Rather than using a brush, she opted for a comb with wider teeth that wouldn’t disturb her natural wave too much. From there, she found the lilac oil she had brought along and further tamed her hair until it was no longer frizzy and shiny instead.

Despite her mood feeling a bit sour, Irene finally felt presentable enough to leave her room. She silently hoped that she could pull herself together before presenting herself to the nobles. While they would already disapprove of a woman in pants, they would be even harsher if she represented the knighthood badly. She refused for the Commander to be disappointed in her—

Lost in thought, Irene was shocked when she ran into the very person she was already thinking of and her heart raced miserably. While his rough appearance never bothered her, she would be blind to not realize this regal attire suited him as well.

He had a white shirt buttoned to his neck and his outer coat was navy blue velvet that went in at his waist where his belt held his sword. The edging of every stitch was silver and there were thick, intricate patterns along the cuff and bottom edge.

It caused her to stare up at him in shock for a few moments before she realized she shouldn’t be gawking at him, and her eyes were quickly pulled away, but then her eyes found dark pants that clung to the large muscles on his legs, and she felt a bit weak.

What the hell is wrong with me? she agonized, not realizing he was doing the same to her the moment she averted her gaze.

"Commander, my apologies," Irene greeted him stiffly. He wouldn’t know she was apologizing for gawking at his appearance rather than running into him. "Good evening."

"Good evening, Irene," the Commander responded, insisting on using her first name for a bit more familiarity. "Would you like to go with me to the dining hall?"

Irene silently cursed. Of course, she should have expected that he was amongst the nobles who would have been invited to dine with the Earl. It somehow slipped her mind.

"Yes, I would like that," Irene answered quietly.

Henry offered his arm, but he quickly pulled it back, laughing at his own gesture.

"Sorry for that," he apologized. "Old habits die hard. You’re not asking for an escort."

But would it be so bad to know what it was like to receive that gentle, protective treatment from someone she liked? Relying on someone else for once sounded a little bit nice—someone who wouldn’t think any less of her just because she needed them.

"That’s alright," Irene uttered as she began to walk forward. "You’re used to noble women, after all."

Their conversation felt incomplete as they walked along in silence. Irene was resisting a lot. All the things in her head that she could not say were eating her alive.

She wished he would beat it out of her or something, then perhaps she could know her place better.

Occasionally realizing he was glancing at her as they went on, she made extra sure that her expression reflected none of her turmoil.

Eventually, the closed door that indicated the dining hall—keeping the heat from the fireplace closed in so the Earl’s guests would stay warm as they ate their meal—appeared in front of the two, and Irene felt relief wash over her. She would likely be seated close to her father and not have to deal with the Commander any longer.

Worst was, this was none of his fault, but all her own.

Surprised when they made it to the door, and the Commander didn’t make an attempt to open it, Irene placed her right, gloved hand on the door handle, but it was suddenly stopped by his left.

Suddenly defensive, Irene’s gaze snapped to the Commander. She felt trapped and it was making her already poor mood worse. She sought an answer in his expression, but to her surprise, she found sadness.

"I’m tired of this, Irene," he broke the silence. "I thought we were starting to become friends beyond the bounds of the knighthood. Then you said you couldn’t speak to me and now you’re avoiding talking to me altogether."

Irene closed her mouth or the words rushing through her head would spill out. There were so many things she could never tell him, but why did he have to seem so sad?!

Her lack of a response was just as displeasing to the Commander because he continued laying it on her. It made her realize she truly messed up at being his friend. He wanted her as a friend, and she treated him awfully.

"You started giving me hope when you let me get to know you. Now you’ve shut me out, and I won’t see you the rest of the winter. I will wonder the entire time what I did to make you despise me."

Despise him?

He was making her so unbelievably weak and irrational because of how much she liked him. The sad expression he wore was thawing her out.

Unable to verbalize what she wanted to, she desperately searched for a way to wipe such a sad expression off of his handsome face. For some reason, the urge to comfort him struck her first and she found herself doing the most unexpected thing: she hugged him.