Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 288: The Green Tea

"You went into my room?" Lara’s voice was sharp, laced with accusation. Her eyes narrowed, glittering with restrained fury.

Mira blinked, her expression shifting like a mask sliding into place. "Sister," she said, voice dripping with feigned innocence, "am I not allowed in your room anymore?" Her tone trembled, wounded and wistful. "You’ve changed so much, Lara. I barely recognize you. You’re not my little sister anymore."

Lara didn’t flinch. Instead, a smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth.

The heavy silence shattered as General Odin strode into the room, his presence commanding. Freya was at his side, followed closely by Reya and the imposing Norse brothers, their boots echoing on the stone floor.

"What is going on here?" Odin asked, his voice firm, eyes scanning the tense scene.

Mira stepped forward with practiced grace, her eyes glistening. "Father, Mother," she began, her voice quivering with carefully measured sorrow, "the wolf pups bit and scratched me. I had no choice but to have them caged and beaten." Slowly, she lifted the hem of her silk dress, revealing red welts and raw scratches down her calf. "Look what they did to me."

Freya’s brows knitted, but her voice remained steady. "Those wolves are Lara’s pets. It wasn’t your place to punish them, Mira. You should have let her handle it."

A smile tugged at the corner of Lara’s mouth. She glanced at her mother, and her heart warmed a little bit more.

Mira felt her heart clench, her breath catch. The blood pounded in her ears. How could Freya, her mother, say that—to her? She was the one injured, the one bleeding, yet she was the one being scolded? Shame and fury tangled in her chest, a toxic brew threatening to spill. She felt she was wronged.

She cast a desperate glance toward Galahad and Gideon, the brothers closest to her and who had once shielded her from every storm. Her eyes pleaded, begged—stand up for me. But they remained still, silent as statues.

Mira bowed her head. "I’m sorry, Mother. This was my mistake," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her lashes veiled the resentment burning in her gaze. "I thought... I thought I could still enter my sister’s room like before. Like when we were close."

Galahad let out a slow sigh. He walked to her, laying a hand gently on her head. "It’s not that you’re forbidden, Mira. But you know those wolves—only Lara and Reya have tamed them. They don’t trust others."

Mira raised her head, and tears were streaming down her face. Everyone pitied her.

"Lara, I am sorry. Please forgive me." She said, her voice filled with sorrow.

Lara’s eyes locked onto hers, cold and unreadable. For a heartbeat, Mira felt exposed, as if Lara could see straight through her performance, down to the bitter core. But Lara looked away and turned toward their parents.

"It’s fine," she muttered. "We’re family, after all."

Just as tension threatened to thicken again, a servant appeared in the doorway and bowed. "Supper is served."

In the dining hall, the long oak table was set with gleaming silverware and crystal goblets, each place marked with precision. A feast had been laid out—roast boar glazed in honey, platters of spiced root vegetables, fresh bread steaming from the ovens.

Lara looked surprised. "Are we celebrating something?"

"Sis, how could you forget?" Peridur placed his hand over his chest as if he was hurt.

"We are celebrating because Peridur and Percival both passed the entrance exam for the University of Savadra" Gideon said indifferently. He was envious of his brothers. He had not taken the exam because he went to war.

"Congratulations, Brothers. I am proud of you."

The twins grinned, their eyes brimming with pride. It was at this time when Linnea and Sandoz came accompanied by the servant that Lara sent to fetch them.

Lara took her place beside Freya without a word, her posture straight, eyes forward. Mira, across from her, kept her expression demure, but her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted her napkin. Lara did not miss it. She was playing the wounded dove now, wings folded, heart bruised—but behind her lashes, her mind was spinning like a blade.

Freya sat regally at the head of the long table, her black hair streaked with silver, braided tightly like a crown. Shadows from the sconces danced along the hard lines of her face, casting her in quiet authority.

At the opposite end, General Odin poured himself a generous glass wine, the liquid glinting like blood in the firelight. His eyes flicked between his daughters—not with affection, but with the cold scrutiny of a commander assessing the strength of his soldiers. Measuring. Calculating. Always watching.

"How are the wolf pups?" Freya asked, her voice low and deliberate as she passed Lara the jug of water.

Lara accepted it wordlessly. Her fingers moved with care, but the muscle twitching in her jaw betrayed the tension she carried. "Still unsettled," she said evenly. "They’re protective. They sensed something was off—before I did." frёewebηovel.cѳm

Across the table, Mira raised her eyes, slow and deliberate, like someone stepping onto thin ice. "I didn’t mean to frighten them."

"But you did," Asael interjected before anyone else could speak. His voice was calm—gentle, almost—but his gaze was sharp, merciless. "You shouldn’t have gone into her room uninvited."

Mira’s fingers tightened around her fork. Her voice dropped to a soft murmur. "I didn’t think I needed an invitation. I was only looking for the music box I gave her... when we were children." She let the silence hang, a fragile thread. "I thought she might still have it."

Asael didn’t blink. "Did you find it?" The question was pointed, almost cruel in its simplicity.

On the far side of the table, Galahad shifted, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Asael. Something in the older brother’s voice had changed—a note of steel where there had once been warmth. Galahad had noticed it earlier, the subtle shift. The distance. Asael had always spoken to Mira with a certain gentleness, but tonight that softness had hardened into something else.

"No," Mira said, her voice catching in her throat. She didn’t clear it. She wanted the fragility to show. "I suppose that part of our childhood is gone too." The words barely left her lips, whispered like a fading memory. But behind the downcast eyes and trembling lashes, her mind hissed:Why? Why did she change so much? I can’t manipulate her like I used to.