CHAPTER 96: CHAPTER 96: HUNTING FOR FOOD (1)

The other room was empty. No Victor, no tray, no telltale scent of food, just the dim, still air and the quiet tick of the clock on the far wall. Elias stood there for a moment, blinking, before the hunger twisted again and made his jaw clench.

Of course. A house like this didn’t simply have food lying around. In a place this size, you probably had to cross three wings and a hallway lined with antiques older than most countries just to get to the kitchens.

He had no idea where those were.

The problem, he realized quickly, was that Victor’s home wasn’t a house so much as a private kingdom. The ceilings soared high enough that his voice would echo if he risked calling out. Wide corridors stretched in both directions, their polished floors reflecting the soft gleam of gold fixtures and art lit by subtle wall sconces. Every doorway seemed to open into another room that could have been plucked straight from a royal estate: libraries with entire ladders mounted to their shelves, sitting rooms with windows taller than Elias himself, and halls that led only to more halls.

He’d wandered palaces before. This was worse.

The bond hummed faintly, but not enough to give him direction. Victor was somewhere else in this sprawling labyrinth, and Elias was too stubborn to just follow the pull and admit defeat. He would find the kitchens on his own.

He caught sight of movement ahead, someone in uniform, moving briskly down the corridor with a silver tray balanced on one palm. Elias quickened his pace.

"Excuse me..."

The servant stopped, eyes widening slightly at the sight of him. Not fear, exactly, but the startled, calculating kind of pause that came from realizing exactly who was speaking. The bond’s scent must have reached them; they inclined their head just enough to be polite.

"Yes, sir?"

"I’m looking for the kitchen," Elias said, keeping his tone neutral. "Which way?"

The attendant visibly panicked, a quick flash across their face before they pulled themselves back into something trained and steady. "Sir, please give us the order and we will bring it to you. There is a tablet usually in your or master’s room."

Elias tilted his head. "And if I wanted to see the kitchen myself?"

Their composure cracked again, just slightly, eyes darting, shoulders stiffening in that telltale way of someone weighing whether to risk disobeying a standing rule. "It’s not... usual, sir."

"Neither am I," Elias said, the words sliding out too smoothly for how much his stomach was twisting. "So?"

The attendant hesitated. Then, with the resigned air of someone about to escort a guest into a restricted wing, they gestured for him to follow.

The attendant led him down two more turns and a staircase broad enough to make him wonder if Victor hosted banquets daily. The air warmed with each step, carrying the faint scent of bread and something savory that had been left to keep warm rather than freshly cooked.

They passed through a short hall lined with copper pots and into the kitchen proper, a cavern of stone and steel that somehow still managed to feel quiet, even with the low clink of utensils and the muted hum of an industrial fridge.

Only three people were present, the night shift by the look of them. Two working over a prep counter and one tending a pot on the back burner. No chatter, just the soft, steady rhythm of professionals who’d done this so often they didn’t need words.

Until they saw him.

It was almost comical, the way the air seemed to tighten. Hands paused mid-motion, eyes flicked up and held, and there was the smallest shift in posture as they registered the bond-scent clinging to him. Not fear, exactly... more the sharp awareness that someone who should not be here, at this hour, was standing in the middle of their sanctuary.

The prep knife set down with a muted tap.

Elias glanced between them, noting the quick exchange of looks before the attendant at his side cleared their throat. "Sir would like something to eat."

One of the cooks, older, sharp-eyed, and clearly in charge, nodded once, already moving toward the pantry. The other two lingered just a second too long before returning to their tasks, the silence more noticeable now that they were forcing themselves to ignore him.

Elias stepped further inside, letting his fingers trail absently along the cool marble counter as he took in the room. "Don’t mind me," he said, which, judging by the stiffness in their shoulders, had exactly the opposite effect.

Elias lingered just long enough to see the way the air had shifted, the subtle tightening of shoulders, the careful movements that hadn’t been there before he stepped in. His presence was making them work differently, and not in a good way.

He eased back from the counter, the marble cool under his fingertips. "Sorry," he said, the words low but clear in the stillness. "I didn’t mean to get in your way. I’ll let you work in peace."

Three pairs of eyes flicked toward him, quick and unreadable, before settling back on their tasks. The older cook gave the faintest nod, neither inviting him to stay nor rushing him out, but the message was there all the same.

Elias didn’t push.

He stepped back into the corridor, the warmth of the kitchen giving way to the cooler air of the hall. A row of doors stretched ahead, each one leading to what he assumed were smaller dining rooms or meeting spaces. The second one he tried was unlocked and empty, dimly lit, with a single long table and a scattering of chairs pushed neatly in.

It was quiet here, and more importantly, out of the way. He leaned against the far wall, arms loosely folded, letting the muted thrum of the bond settle in the background while he waited. The smell of bread and roasted meat from the kitchen drifted faintly under the door.

The sound of footsteps reached him before the door creaked open again, not from the kitchen, but from the opposite end of the hall.

Victor.