Evelina could hardly keep still.
She walked a half step ahead of Seraphine, boots crunching softly over thick layers of fresh snow, hands clasped behind her back as she swayed from side to side. The excitement on her face was unguarded, bright enough that Seraphine found herself unsure where to look.
“I still cannot believe it,” Evelina said, turning just enough to walk backward for a few steps. “Training together, Sera. It’s been ages since we had a proper day like this.”
“Yes, indeed. I hope the attire suits you,” Seraphine replied, her smile faint, careful. “It would be unfortunate if it caused you any discomfort.”
“Oh, I am quite comfortable,” Evelina said cheerfully. She turned once in place, clearly pleased. She wore a fitted riding jacket in pale cream, tailored neatly at the waist, with a soft rose-colored blouse beneath. Her dark brown trousers were well-fitted and practical, tucked into polished leather boots meant for movement rather than display.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Seraphine replied, offering a polite smile. She felt awkward, unsure what she ought to say or how she was meant to respond. All she could do was guess and hope it sounded natural.
“You look very lovely in this,” she continued, smiling more genuinely, hoping to match Evelina’s energy. As friends, she should be happy to spend time together.
(Stop treating her like a stranger.)
Seraphine reminded herself that closeness mattered. Appearances mattered. Rumors always found their way to the surface, and she could not allow this one to form.
Seraphine gave herself a mental slap. She needed to focus. The last few hours had slipped past her like a current she had allowed herself to drift in, carried along without resistance. This time, she would keep her footing.
The hours after breakfast had passed strangely fast. Servants moved in and out with quiet efficiency, clearing porcelain and linen, fetching ink and parchment for Evelina’s letter, arranging padded jackets and trousers. Alisea guided them with little explanation, as though the household already understood what was expected under her curt glances and brief instructions.
It occurred to Seraphine, not for the first time, that Alisea did more than a handmaiden’s share of work. She issued instructions that were obeyed without question. She spoke to older servants as equals, sometimes even with gentle authority.
She realized then that the head maid and the butler rarely addressed her directly. With Alisea so often at her side, she might not have noticed before, but the absence felt strange all the same.
(Were they avoiding me?)
The thought lingered longer than it should have. As they walked, Seraphine’s mind drifted, unbidden.
(What were their names again?)
She searched her memory and came up empty. Their names had never settled in her thoughts, only the quiet certainty that they were not the familiar ones she expected. No Alfred. No Sebastian. Neither Mary nor Elizabeth.
“Sera?”
Seraphine blinked and turned her head. Evelina had fallen into step beside her, her expression tinged with concern.
“Ah, forgive me. What did you say?”
Evelina puffed her cheeks, stopping short. “I was asking whether Lord Lucien will oversee the training.”
(Lucien. We've grown quite close, but will that fool Evelina enough?)
“Yes,” Seraphine said. “He trains in the yard most mornings. It would be natural to ask him.”
“I do not require instruction,” Evelina said quickly, then seemed to catch herself. She added, more lightly and cheerful, “I merely wish to spend time with you. Perhaps we might spar together, just the two of us.”
Seraphine hesitated. “You have trained before, then?”
Evelina tilted her head, considering. “In a manner of speaking.”
That answer explained nothing at all.
The training yard came into view, pale under the winter sun. Practice dummies stood in uneven rows. Racks of wooden weapons lined the fence, their use for practice only.
Lucien was already there.
He stood near the center of the yard, sleeves rolled back, gloves discarded on a nearby bench. He turned at the sound of approaching footsteps, his expression shifting into polite recognition.
“My lady.”
His gaze flicked to Evelina. Surprise crossed his features so briefly Seraphine almost missed it.
“Good morning, Lady Evelina.”
Evelina halted at once and performed a neat courtesy, hands placed properly, posture impeccable even in trousers rather than skirts. “Good morning, Lord Lucien. I hope I am not intruding.”
“Not at all,” he replied with a smile. “You are welcome.”
The words were correct and polite. The warmth was not. His smile didn't reach his eyes, he was just doing his formalities as a noble, or as Seraphine's betrothed.
Seraphine noticed it immediately. Lucien’s politeness was flawless, but distant. It reminded her of the tone he had once reserved for Prince Cassian.
She wondered, briefly, whether Cassian was still in the dungeons.
A week was a long time.
(He will return soon, right? A week is quite long, will he be fine?)
She pushed the thought quickly aside. Cursing at herself for having foolish thoughts, almost scolding herself.
(Of course he's fine. Ugh, just forget about him. He's not important now.)
“I have heard you intend to train,” Lucien said to Evelina. “If you require assistance, I am at your disposal.”
Evelina smiled. “How kind.”
She did not say yes. Seraphine noticed that Evelina had chosen her words deliberately. Her first impression of Evelina had been that of a carefree airhead, but now it seemed she was far more cautious than she let on.
Instead, Evelina stepped toward the weapon rack, her steps light, unhurried. Her fingers brushed over the hilts as though she were merely curious, yet Seraphine noticed how she did not hesitate. How she did not fumble.
She selected a practice sword and turned, offering it to Seraphine.
“Shall we?” Evelina asked.
Seraphine froze.
Lucien’s gaze narrowed. “Lady Evelina, perhaps we should begin with–”
“Light movement only,” Evelina interrupted, sweet as spring air. “Nothing strenuous.” She backed away, sword held loosely at her side.
Seraphine felt a flicker of unease.
“I am hardly a worthy opponent,” she said, doubt creeping in.
Evelina’s smile did not fade. “Then this will be harmless. Just a friendly duel, for fun.”
Seraphine took the sword.
It felt heavier than she remembered.
They faced one another across the light frosted ground. Lucien stepped closer, clearly intending to intervene if necessary.
“Begin slowly,” he said.
Evelina inclined her head.
Then she moved.
Not fast. Not aggressively. Just enough.
She closed the distance in two steps, blade lifting in a shallow arc that Seraphine barely had time to register before instinct took over. Wood met wood with a dull sound, the impact reverberating through her arms.
Seraphine staggered back, heart jumping.
Evelina withdrew at once, posture relaxed.
“I am sorry,” she said with a slight gasp. “Was that too much?”
Seraphine shook her head. “No. I simply did not expect this…”
Her words faltered, caught between disbelief and the lingering sting of the attack.
They resumed.
This time, Evelina circled her. Her footwork was careful, light and precise. There was no wasted motion, no uncertainty. She tested Seraphine’s guard with light taps, never striking the same place twice.
Lucien watched in silence.
Seraphine realized she was being studied.
Evelina moved with a grace that made Seraphine uneasy. She never overcommitted, slipping away from openings Seraphine did not even realize she had left. Unlike Lucien, whose movements followed strict discipline, or Cassian, whose strikes burned with overwhelming force, Evelina was light and precise, almost serpentine. She dodged more than she struck, patient and deliberate, waiting for the right moment to act.
It was unsettling. Not because Evelina was stronger, but because she seemed to control the pace of the duel itself, able to end it at any second, yet choosing to hold back.
(She is holding back, isn't she?)
Seraphine thought, scoffing inwardly. Was Evelina looking down on her, or merely restraining herself for her sake? She should not have judged a book by its cover. The girl she thought too delicate to fight a novice had outmaneuvered her at every turn.
She was so wrong.
After several exchanges, Evelina stepped back and lowered her sword. Her bright smile never wavered, as if she truly enjoyed the duel, or the time spent with Seraphine.
“I think that is enough,” Evelina said lightly. “Would you agree?”
Seraphine nodded, breathing harder than she liked.
Lucien spoke at last. “You move with confidence, Lady Evelina. Have you been training for a long time?”
Evelina’s smile softened. “I have always enjoyed watching others train.”
That didn't answer his question.
She returned the practice sword to the rack, then turned back to Seraphine, eyes bright and warm.
“You see?” Evelina said, voice soft, playful, lilting as though it carried a faint melody. “There is nothing to fear. We may improve together. And you can even rely on me to protect you~!”
Seraphine forced herself to smile.
Inside, something felt wrong. She was unsure why. Was she ashamed? Displeased?
(I don't really want to be protected. I want to protect myself.)
Lucien said nothing further, though his gaze lingered on Evelina longer. His gaze felt cold. Seraphine could not tell if Lucien was jealous or he just didn't like Evelina.
As they left the yard, Evelina walked closer than before, her sleeve brushing Seraphine’s arm.
“I am glad,” Evelina said quietly. “That you allowed me into this part of your life.”
Seraphine’s fingers twitched briefly at her side.
“Yes,” she replied. “So am I.”
She was not certain that was true. The uneasy thought lingered as snow crunched beneath their boots.
They stepped through the doorway leading from the training yard into the estate, the warmth of the hall washing over them. A few feet inside, just to the left of the opening, the butler stood waiting.
“Lady Seraphine.”
Seraphine turned her head to the side, towards his direction. The butler stepped forward, hands folded, posture straight. His dark gray-blue eyes briefly flicked to Evelina before settling on her. A faint smile touched his lips, patient, precise.
A name surfaced into her mind.
(Ah right, he was called Giovanni Faria. What an unusual name for a butler.)
“I bring news,” he said, voice steady. “Prince Cassian will return within the day.”
Evelina’s expression darkened ever so slightly, just for a heartbeat, before her cheerful mask returned. Seraphine noticed, but said nothing.
(So, he is coming back. Will I be fine? Or will this bring more chaos with Evelina by my side?)