The heavy oak door creaked open, shattering the tense silence that had settled over the tea room. Aurelia, her face pale and drawn from illness, stepped hesitantly into the opulent space. Her vibrant green eyes, usually sparkling with life, were now clouded with fatigue and a hint of apprehension. Her brown hair, usually worn in a simple braid, hung loose around her shoulders, adding to her air of vulnerability.
Following closely behind her was Bets. A quick glance around the room confirmed Aurelia's worst fears – three nobles were all present, their gazes fixed on her with a mixture of curiosity and something more sinister.
This was the last place Aurelia wanted to be. All she desired was the comfort of her bed, a chance to sleep away the lingering chill that clung to her. Yet, here she was, summoned before these noble figures.
Cecilia surged forward, a wide, welcoming smile plastered on her face. "There you are, Aurelia!" she exclaimed, her voice laced with a touch of forced enthusiasm. "Come, come, join us." She reached out and clasped Aurelia's hand with surprising force, a gesture that felt more like a trap than a friendly invitation.
Godfrey and Gabrielle both turned their heads at Cecilia's outburst, their expressions unreadable.
Meanwhile, Gabrielle's gaze flickered towards Betsy, a fleeting smile playing on her lips. Betsy, ever cautious, immediately dropped her gaze to the floor, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. The memory of Gabrielle's bold move, a kiss brushed against the back of Betsy's palm, still fresh in their minds.
A flicker of suspicion crossed Aurelia's features as Cecilia's overly welcoming facade cracked for a moment. Raising an eyebrow, she met Cecilia's gaze with a steely glint in her own eyes. "Forgive me, milady," she said, her voice laced with a cool indifference, "but your… enthusiasm seems a tad misplaced."
Cecilia, momentarily flustered, cleared her throat and glanced pointedly at Betsy. "Well," she stammered, "it's simply… unusual. A servant accompanied by their own… lady-in-waiting, as it were. Quite the entourage you have there." She let out a tinkling laugh, the sound strained and lacking genuine mirth. "A slave with a lady-in-waiting! How very… unique."
Aurelia's jaw clenched tight, her body tensing with repressed anger. "Is that why I was summoned?" she countered, her voice low and dangerous. "To be the subject of your amusement? Surely, even you wouldn't stoop so low."
Cecilia's smile faltered completely, replaced by a flicker of annoyance. She opened her mouth to retort, but Godfrey intervened.
Godfrey shot a pointed look at Cecilia, his voice laced with a hint of disapproval. "There will be no jesting here, Lady Cecilia," he said curtly.
Cecilia, sensing the shift in power, cleared her throat and gestured towards a plush armchair. "Please, Aurelia," she interjected, a touch of forced politeness in her voice. "Do take a seat. I apologize if I seemed rude during your previous visit. One doesn't always think before one speaks, you understand."
Aurelia stared at the offered chair, a wall of ice forming around her. "Lady Cecilia," she said, her voice laced with icy contempt, "I find this feeble attempt at… bonding, to be beneath you. And quite frankly, beneath me as well. If you have questions, ask them. But spare me the theatrics."
Cecilia's smile faltered, the cracks in her facade growing wider. Her voice, however, remained laced with forced authority as she retorted, "A slave does not question a noble's request, Aurelia. When a noble tells you to sit, you sit."
Aurelia met her gaze unflinchingly, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Wrong, Lady Cecilia," she countered, her voice laced with a hint of amusement that sent shivers down Cecilia's spine. "A slave answers to their master, and currently, that distinction belongs to the King." The last part was said through gritted teeth, a bitter truth she was forced to acknowledge.
Godfrey's brows furrowed in surprise. He had always been suspicious of the King's new slave, but this unexpected display of defiance against a noblewoman was intriguing. Perhaps there was more to this Aurelia than met the eye.
Sensing an opportunity, Cecilia adopted a conciliatory tone. "Oh dear," she cooed, her voice dripping with fake sweetness, "it appears we've gotten off on the wrong foot. Why don't we… clear the air? Perhaps Gabrielle, Sir Godfrey, and even your 'lady-in- waiting' would be kind enough to excuse us for a moment? It seems Lady Aurelia and I have some… private business to discuss."
Gabrielle, ever the rebel, snorted with amusement. "And why should we leave, Cecilia?" she drawled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "This little drama seems to be getting rather… entertaining. Don't you agree, Godfrey?" She shot him a playful wink.
Aurelia's brow furrowed in confusion. Why the sudden need for privacy? She rubbed her throbbing head, the remnants of her illness still clinging to her. "There's no need for that, Lady Cecilia," she said, her voice betraying a hint of fatigue
Cecilia's facade crumbled completely, replaced by a mask of barely concealed fury. She glared at the other occupants of the room, her voice laced with a dangerous edge as she addressed Gabrielle and Godfrey. "Fine," she hissed. "Stay, if you must. But I warn you, this conversation will not be pleasant."
With a resigned sigh, Gabrielle and Godfrey exchanged a look, then reluctantly rose from their chairs. Godfrey, however, couldn't resist a parting shot. Betsy cast Aurelia a hesitant glance before walking away.
The heavy oak door creaked shut behind them, plunging the room into a tense silence. Just as Aurelia was about to turn her head and address Cecilia, a sickeningly sharp slap echoed through the opulent tea room. The world spun for a moment, a metallic tang filling her mouth.
Her vision cleared to reveal Cecilia standing before her, a cruel smile twisting her features. Rage, hot and primal, threatened to consume Aurelia. But she forced it down, shoving it deep within.
Keep cool, Aurelia, keep cool.
Aurelia's gaze turned icy, a stark contrast to the warmth that usually resided in her green eyes. "Now, was that truly necessary, milady?" she inquired, her voice a low, dangerous rumble. Despite the throbbing pain in her cheek, her posture remained defiant, her chin held high.
Cecilia, fueled by a mixture of anger and frustration, puffed out her chest. "Absolutely necessary!" she declared, her voice shrill and laced with venom. "You, a mere slave, dare defy me? I needed to slap some sense into you, to remind you of your place!"
The room seemed to shrink, the air crackling with unspoken threats. Aurelia stood her ground, her gaze unwavering. A slow, humorless smile played on her lips.
"My place, Lady Cecilia," she countered, her voice laced with a dangerous edge, "is by the King's side. And unlike you, I have his favor. Perhaps you should consider your own position before resorting to such… childish tactics." A glint of something akin to pity flickered in her eyes for a fleeting moment before hardening into steel once more.
Disgust and a flicker of something akin to pity flickered across Aurelia's face as she met Cecilia's gaze. The jealousy radiating from the noblewoman was as thick as the perfume clinging to her clothes. It was pathetic, truly.
A wave of nausea washed over her. How could she have sunk so low, using the King's name in such a way? The man who had orchestrated the deaths of her parents, who held her captive in this gilded cage – to use him as a weapon against another woman felt like a betrayal of the very spirit she was desperately trying to protect.
Before Aurelia could retract her ill-considered statement, Cecilia lunged forward, her manicured nails digging into Aurelia's scalp. A strangled cry escaped Aurelia's lips as Cecilia yanked a handful of her hair, the pain momentarily blinding. God, she was powerless against this arrogant brat of a noble.
"You think the King fancies you, you filthy slave?" Cecilia spat, her voice dripping with venom. "He wouldn't even look at you twice! You're nothing more than a plaything, a curiosity to be discarded when he grows bored. Don't flatter yourself!"
The air crackled with tension as the heavy oak door swung open. Samael stood framed in the doorway, his golden eyes glinting with an emotion that was difficult to decipher. His expression was replaced by a mask of something akin to… annoyance?
Cecilia, sensing the shift in power, immediately withdrew her hand from Aurelia's hair. Her earlier bravado evaporated, replaced by a mixture of fear and feigned respect. With a clumsy curtsy, she stammered, "Y-Your Majesty. I… I was just having a… disagreement with your… slave."
Aurelia, her green eyes flashing with a mix of fury and defiance, glared at Cecilia for a moment before turning her cold stare towards the King. This was the first time she had laid eyes on him since he had callously abandoned her to drown in the frozen lake, after he made her pursuit some ridiculous poisonous fruit. The memory sent a fresh wave of anger coursing through her veins.
Samael, unfazed by the hostility radiating from Aurelia, strode purposefully into the room. Just as Aurelia instinctively took a step back, his hand shot out, his long fingers wrapping around her arm in a vice-like grip. His gaze, finally leaving Cecilia, flickered to Aurelia's face, landing on the angry red mark blooming on her cheek.
A sharp click of his tongue echoed in the tense silence, a sound that spoke volumes of his displeasure. Turning back towards Cecilia, he addressed her in a voice that dripped with icy contempt. "Ruining my property, Lady Cecilia? How utterly careless of you." The word "property" hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of Aurelia's status in his eyes – an object to be possessed, not a person to be respected.
Cecilia, desperate to regain some control of the situation, stammered out a defense. "B-but Your Majesty," she sputtered, her voice laced with a tremor of fear and indignation, "She was being… rude! I simply requested she sit, and she… she defied me!"
Samael's gaze turned to Aurelia, his golden eyes holding an unreadable glint. His voice, when he spoke, was a low rumble that sent shivers down both Cecilia and Aurelia's spines. "And why, pray tell," he drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "would you expect her to obey you?"
Cecilia's jaw dropped agape. She couldn't believe her ears. The King, the very man she had envisioned as her future husband, was defending his slave against a noblewoman! Jealousy, a bitter and unwelcome guest, twisted her insides.
"But… but she's a slave, Your Majesty!" she finally managed, her voice rising in pitch. "A slave obeys their master, and—"
"—And I," Samael interrupted, his voice cutting through hers like a knife, "am her master, Lady Cecilia. Not you." His words hung heavy in the air, a clear reminder of the hierarchy, a subtle threat veiled in a deceptively calm tone.
Aurelia couldn't help but scoff internally at the King's charade. Here he was, acting the part of the concerned master, all the while ignoring the memory of her near-death experience at his hand. A sliver of doubt crept into her mind. Could he have been the one who pulled her from the icy water?
"But-"
Samael's voice, laced with a dangerous edge, cut through her thoughts. "Lady Cecilia," he began, his golden eyes glinting with a predatory gleam, "if I were you, I would choose my next words very carefully. Another display of such… disrespect towards my property, and I assure you, today will be your last visit within these castle walls."
Cecilia, her face drained of all color, gaped at him in disbelief. The King's threat hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Never in a million years did she imagine he would speak to her in such a manner, let alone defend a mere slave. Her carefully constructed facade of confidence crumbled completely, leaving behind a quivering mess of fear and humiliation.
Cecilia scoffed angrily, muttering a disgruntled, "Unbelievable," under her breath before storming out of the room, her silk skirts swishing indignantly with each furious step.
The moment the door slammed shut behind Cecilia, the tension in the room seemed to dissipate somewhat. Samael's grip on Aurelia's arm loosened, but he didn't release her entirely. He tilted his head to the side, his golden eyes fixed on the reddening mark on her cheek. A smirk played on his lips, a smirk that sent a shiver down Aurelia's spine – it was a familiar kind of coldness, devoid of genuine concern.
"You certainly know how to find trouble, don't you, Aurelia," he commented, his voice laced with a hint of amusement that did little to soothe her anger.
Aurelia gritted her teeth, her glare unwavering. This man, this monster who had callously abandoned her to die, now dared to act concerned? The hypocrisy of it all burned in her throat.
"And you, your Majesty," she retorted, her voice laced with icy sarcasm, "seem to be an expert at creating it."
Samael's smirk widened. "Perhaps," he conceded, stepping away from her. He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on her face. "You should do well to get that bruise treated. It does make you look rather… unappealing." With that final, cruel jab, he turned and strode out of the room, leaving Aurelia fuming in his wake.