Seraphine had thought herself prepared for Evelina’s visit. That confidence shattered the moment she spotted her friend strolling through the garden at dawn, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
She did not know the hour. There were no clocks in her chambers, no familiar ticking to give her a clue of time. Judging by the low angle of the rising sun, it could not have been much later than eight. Perhaps that was not considered early here, but to arrive unannounced at such an hour still felt improper. It was a time she would normally spend dozing a little longer, easing into the day before dressing.
Maybe she was simply more spoiled than other noblewomen. She could not say for certain. The stories she had read were rarely precise about such things, and even if they were, she doubted she would remember every detail. She was no historian, though even that would not have saved her. This world followed its own customs and timelines, far removed from anything she had learned before. She had received lessons on this world, its history and etiquette, but only a week had passed, and there was only so much she could absorb while other duties constantly demanded her attention.
Seraphine sighed, lifting her eyes to the mirror where Alisea stood behind her. Their gazes met briefly through the glass. Alisea smiled, calm and steady.
“All finished, my lady,” she said, adjusting the tie of Seraphine’s hair with a proud self-approving nod. “A low ponytail will spare you a headache. Your hair is long, after all. Wearing it too high for too long would weigh on your scalp. Worse still, it would dull its shine. My lady has such gorgeous hair, it would do no good to ruin it.”
Seraphine let out a small laugh. She could not tell whether Alisea spoke out of habit or intention, but the gentle rambling eased the tightness in her chest.
“Shall we go, my lady?”
She nodded and rose from her seat. For a brief moment, she lingered before the mirror. This time, she did not glare at her reflection. There was no resentment there, nor fear. Only resolve, tentative but real.
She turned away.
Seraphine pushed the doors open with both hands and stepped into a scene that felt more like a painting than reality.
Evelina was already seated at the table, teacup lifted delicately to her lips. The morning sun streamed through the tall windows behind her, rising just enough to frame her figure in pale gold. Seraphine heard a quiet intake of breath beside her and realized only then that she herself had stopped breathing.
Evelina looked almost unreal against the deeper tones of the room. Her pastel pink hair caught the winter light, soft and warm, as though spring itself had wandered somewhere it did not belong. Her pale blue eyes reflected the snow beyond the glass as steam curled from her porcelain cup, briefly veiling her expression before fading away.
Her attire was light in both shade and presence. Creams and soft blush, fabrics that flowed rather than clung, suited more to hearth warmth and laughter than to stone halls and cold mornings. Against the walnut table, the heavy tapestries, the subdued colors of autumn and winter, Evelina did not clash.
She bloomed.
Only then did Seraphine become aware of herself. The midnight blue of her own gown felt heavy by contrast, its dark silk satin pulling the light into shadow. She stood like a frame around Evelina’s portrait, present but secondary, and the realization unsettled her more than she expected.
At last, Evelina set her teacup down and turned with a bright smile.
“Good morning, Sera.”
“Good morning, Eve. Please forgive me for keeping you waiting,” Seraphine replied, lowering herself into a polite courtesy.
“Oh, there is no need for apologies,” Evelina said lightly, waving a hand as if brushing the matter aside. She rose and returned the courtesy with a graceful bow. “I am the one who arrived too early.”
Her eyes brightened as she clasped her hands together. “Still, it is such a delight to see you again, Sera. You arrived sooner than I expected.”
Before Seraphine could respond, Evelina stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her in a sudden, warm embrace. It was quick, almost impulsive, as if she had acted on feeling alone.
“I truly missed you,” she added softly, pulling back just enough to smile up at her.
“Me too, my apologies for not reaching out sooner,” Seraphine said softly, her voice steady though her chest fluttered, still taken aback by the sudden hug. “It is good to see you again.” She forced the most genuine smile on her face before she took her seat. Alisea moved silently behind her, ever attentive.
She reached for her black tea, letting it steep longer than most would tolerate before adding only a modest splash of milk. No sugar. On her plate lay a warm roll, neatly split, butter already melting into its crumb. She added a thin slice of smoked salmon on top and ate slowly, deliberately, following the original Seraphine’s habit of taking little rather than from any true appetite of her own. A thin slice of seed cake waited at the edge of her plate, untouched.
Without thinking, her gaze drifted to Evelina’s side of the table.
Scones split generously and layered with clotted cream, blueberry preserves and fresh blueberries on top. Her tea was pale with milk and sweetened enough that its scent carried. A single shortbread finger lay beside the plate, one end dipped in chocolate that was already beginning to set.
“So,” Evelina began, studying her closely, “how have you been, Sera? You look rather pale. I had hoped you would feel better after taking up the sword.”
(Oh no, I totally forgot about that. Seraphine never touched a sword before.)
Evelina paused, fingers to her lips, eyes flicking toward the window. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, letting only a quiet breath escape.
Seraphine followed her gaze to the garden. The red camellia, now clear of frost thanks to Evelina’s gentle touch, stood vivid among the pink blooms that still peeked through their light dusting of snow.
(Is there something special about that red camellia?)
Evelina drew in a slow breath. “Sera… we have not shared as much time together of late. I cannot help but wonder if it is the expectations of others that keep you so occupied. You feel… farther away than before, and I scarcely know how to reach you without seeming to pressure you.”
Her voice wavered. Her breathing grew shallow, her eyes glistening.
“Have I done something wrong?” she asked quietly. “Have you grown tired of me?”
She looked stricken, fragile, like a child bracing for rejection.
“Oh, Eve, no,” Seraphine said at once. “That is not so. I am sorry if I made you feel such things. I have changed, yes, but not because of you. Lord Lucien has helped me find a measure of confidence. I simply grew weary of hiding away.”
Seraphine’s gaze darkened with a forced sorrow as she thought of her home. A few tears welled at the corners of her eyes, and she lifted her eyes to Evelina, letting the act speak for her.
“I need to move forward,” she continued softly. “I cannot remain trapped in what I have lost. Perhaps I avoided you because you reminded me of your brother, and for that I am truly sorry. I was selfish. Please forgive me.”
Evelina rose at once, producing her handkerchief to dab gently at Seraphine’s tears before pulling her into an embrace.
“My poor Sera,” she murmured. “Loss has wounded you deeply. I will always forgive you, no matter what you do. I have always been on your side.”
Her arms tightened, almost desperate. “But please, don't abandon me. Please, I ask of you only this, do not leave me.”
“I would never abandon you, Eve,” Seraphine said quietly. “You are my closest friend.”
She remembered Alisea’s advice and rested a hand atop Evelina’s head, stroking gently.
Evelina pulled back at last, studying her face. “Then tell me,” she said. “Why the sword? Why walk a path filled with pain and danger?”
Seraphine straightened. “I wish to spend my time differently. Society already shuns me. They see me as cursed, as cruel. I have no desire to entertain those who delight in such lies.”
Evelina laughed softly, returning to her seat. “That does sound like you. You were never one to bow to gossip. You always answered them boldly.”
Her smile thinned. “Still, I know that bravery is partly an act. Even with me, you sometimes pretend to be stronger than you feel. You always have. But that is alright. You know I am here to listen.”
She poked gently at her scone with the blueberry on top, slicing into it with care. Blueberry juice seeped slowly into the cream.
“I never thought you would take up swordplay,” she continued. “You always flinched at the sight of blades, no matter how you tried to hide it.”
(That’s right. Alisea told me about that. It must be very strange to suddenly take interest in it. I have to convince her.)
She pressed the fork into another blueberry, applying just enough force that the skin gave way and burst, the juice seeping over the cream as if the berry had been ripped apart. “You've really changed. Is it because of love that made you stronger, more determined to change?”
She smiled sweetly, tilting her head as she asked, as if a young girl peering into a romance novel. Seraphine noticed the way Evelina kept watching her, curious, eager, yet entirely innocent, as if she had never known love herself and only wished to understand it.
(How do I even respond to that? Should I just accept it and act all lovely dovey with Lord Lucien?)
Before Seraphine could answer, Evelina continued.
“You were good as you were, Sera,” she said softly. “There was no need to change. You need not prove yourself to anyone. I will stand by you, regardless of what others say.”
She reached across the table, squeezing Seraphine’s hand gently. “So please, do not force yourself into danger. You have guards for that. I fear you will only come to harm.”
Seraphine covered Evelina’s hand with her other hand, smiling faintly.
“I chose this path,” she said. “I wish to follow my mother’s example. You know how deeply I admired her. It is time I stand as her heir rather than remain hidden in the dark.”
Evelina sighed. “You always revered Duchess Isolde’s strength,” she said. “Then perhaps I should train with you.”
“What?” Seraphine blurted before she could stop herself.
Evelina laughed. “So we may spend more time together, of course. And so I may protect you.”
(Protect me? How? She looks like a walking cotton candy that can melt away so easily.)
Seraphine forced a smile.
“I can see your thoughts,” Evelina added playfully. “You think I'm frail. But I will not hinder you. Let me walk this path beside you.”
“There is no reason to refuse,” Seraphine said carefully. “If you are certain.”
“Of course,” Evelina replied brightly. “I shall send a letter and remain here, just as Lord Lucien has.”
Seraphine smiled.
Inside, she prayed.
(Let the Gods have mercy on me.)