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Hellion House
The room was lively with scandalous chatter and hypocritical pleasantries. Mahalia scowled; no one was a better gossip-monger than the nobles. Perhaps it was the privilege they were raised with and their lack of real worries that gave them so much time to gossip.
As much as she appreciated her membership in such an exclusive house, she hadn't wanted to come today. It was Jaslin who suggested they visit, given the rumors and speculations that had spread since Mahalia's coma. And what better place to dispel such rumors than Hellion House?
They were busy debating which seat was optimal for their mission when they noticed a rowdy table. Much to their curiosity, Melinda was at the center of attention—everyone's eyes were on her.
"Jaslin, let's sit right beside that table," Mahalia nudged her cousin, who simply shrugged and obliged.
"Lady Melinda is the epitome of hard work...no such thing as nepotism," one noble said.
"Let's not say anything like that. I might have had a little help," Melinda smiled sheepishly and blushed, which only made Mahalia scowl.
"You're too humble," another replied, and they all laughed pretentiously.
Mahalia shook her head. "I'm not even over there, and I'm cringing at how blatantly fake they are."
"It's no surprise," Jaslin replied, munching on her scones. "Lady Charmale just got pushed up in the ranks."
Mahalia looked at her quizzically.
"She replaced Sir Milton, causing a power shift. Especially since the position of vicegerency of the realm is so influential."
The chatter at the next table continued until Melinda cleared her throat, shifting the atmosphere.
"Markham, I heard your sister recently got engaged to a wealthy count from Arayle," she said in a voice that seemed curious, though Mahalia knew she was faking it.
"You know how the people from the 'baby empire' are—they're very conservative, so my sister is basically married to him. She's going to the northeast with him," he boasted.
Melinda nodded thoughtfully, though she didn't appear pleased. Markham seemed caught off guard.
"Lady Charmale, is something the matter? You don't seem pleased with the news."
Melinda smiled nervously. "No, don't get me wrong. I'm happy for her; I just remembered that she was classmates with the daughter of the Doyenne Execurium."
Mahalia and Jaslin paused. Why were they suddenly talking about Mahalia? "And why does it seem like she pities me? Surely, even if my back is to her, she should know I'm here," Mahalia thought.
"You mean Mahalia? Yes, she was my sister's classmate," Markham replied.
"My heart just goes out to her. After all, she's twenty-seven and still unbetrothed, while her classmates are getting married. With someone of her standing, she should have no trouble finding a spouse," Melinda sighed.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
"I see what's going on now," Mahalia chuckled.
"Come to think of it," someone from Melinda's table added, "she's been out of the public gaze for quite some time. I heard from my sister's mother-in-law's gardener's wife that two years ago, she was seen being carried by her family in a very sorry state—something about drugs."
Another person, Juniper Marcuse, nodded as if corroborating the claim. "That must be true. I heard she joined some bad company, got addicted, and is now deranged. To make it worse, she's raising a child from one of her drunken escapades."
Mahalia struggled to hold back her laughter.
Melinda shook her head. "I'm not saying this because I want you to speak ill of her. I'm just concerned."
Markham scoffed. "Lady Charmale, you're too kind. Don't bother with such people. She's ruined her life, and no man will want damaged goods anyway."
Everyone at the table nodded in agreement.
"I'm just worried," Melinda muttered in an innocent tone that irked Mahalia.
"I must say that I appreciate Lady Charmale's concern," Mahalia finally spoke up. Everyone turned to her, clearly shocked and a bit ashamed.
"Did they really not notice me?" she thought.
"Lady Heris—" Melinda began.
"You must be deeply worried about me if you could make a completely unrelated matter about me. I just wish you were concerned enough to check up on me," Mahalia said, turning to Juniper with a look that made her seem inconsequential.
"Juniper Marcuse, was it? If I'm not wrong, you're in the hospitality business. Too bad—you'd have hit it big as a novelist. Such an active imagination you have."
Only two people at the table hadn't spoken ill of Mahalia: Melinda's lady's maid, Zarela, and her close friend, the conservative Rivan Ceria. They seemed disinterested in the conversation and didn't even look up when Mahalia approached.
Mahalia inspected the two, feeling a pang of jealousy and annoyance that the lowly Charmale could have such a poised, beautiful maid and a handsome friend.
"Forgive me, Lady Heris. You know your life has been shrouded in secrecy, and secrecy breeds—"
Mahalia cut her off, mocking Melinda's tone. "And what's with everyone sucking up to Lady Charmale?" she said in a sing-song voice. "You lot should stop drooling over her—your greed is showing."
People looked agitated while onlookers enjoyed the drama. Mahalia turned to Jaslin. "Tell me, how desperate and thirsty must they be to grovel at the feet of a noble from a nameless house? Her family has fallen so low they're practically nameless. Of course, she has to work hard."
"Lady Heris!" Melinda interrupted. "There's no need to be so mean. We've apologized, even though we did nothing wrong. And why are you berating my status? I'll have you know that I'm the vicegerent of the realm, so I have every right to have people grovel at my—" She belatedly caught herself when she saw Mahalia's amused smirk.
Mahalia inched closer. "Careful, your mask might slip."
Melinda seethed, clearly annoyed by Mahalia's ability to get under her skin, just like…
"You know what, Lady Heris?" Melinda said, her tone icy. "I take back my apology because we did nothing wrong. It's not far-fetched to assume those things about the daughter of a traitor."
Wham!
A loud slap silenced Melinda, and everyone gasped.
"How dare you?" Mahalia looked furious, though deep down she was more hurt by Melinda's words than anything else.
"She killed me," Mahalia thought, "compared to that, this slap feels generous."
Melinda fumed as her supporters rushed to her side. "You…you…" she stammered, nearly ready to attack.
"What's going on here?" a domineering voice asked, and everyone immediately bowed.
"Good day, Your Highness," they greeted.
Awin acknowledged their greeting curtly. "What's going on here?"
Melinda quickly explained, omitting key details. Awin looked at Mahalia with an interested gaze.
"It's been a while. How have you been?" he asked, his gaze distant.
Everyone was confused. They'd expected the king to punish Mahalia for slapping his officer, not...whatever this was. Mahalia, on the other hand, gave the king a cold look. This was her first time seeing him since she woke up, and she felt a mix of anger and betrayal. For Mahalia—or rather, for Qaya—this was an uncomfortable situation, being face-to-face with two suspects of her murder.
"Your Highness, she should be punished for her behavior. She slapped an officer of the court," Markham chimed in.
The king looked at him like he was a nuisance. "I would have supported that, had this not been provoked."
"What?!" Melinda exclaimed.
"Yes, Lady Charmale, you're at fault. I suggest you apologize."
Melinda's voice faltered as she clenched her fists, and an awkward silence followed. Mahalia, however, suspected the king was playing a game. When wasn't he?
"Will you disobey your king?" Awin's voice was stern.
Melinda clenched her teeth. "Lady Heris, I apologize for my behavior. I admit I was at fault. Please forgive me."
Everyone turned to Mahalia, who looked stunned. Then she let out a mocking laugh, with tears at the corners of her eyes.
"This is something," she muttered. "Lady Charmale, I'm pleased you could recognize your fault. That's a step in the right direction. Jaslin, let's go home—we can't possibly continue our meal after this."
The duo left as everyone resumed their chatter. Mahalia took one last look at Awin, who was being glared at by Melinda.
"Why did you betray me? Why?"
Three years ago
Qaya's groggy eyes opened, and she stretched. Her entire body ached.
In the distance, she heard a stream and the chirping of birds. A handsome, shirtless figure approached, holding a hot bowl of porridge. She instinctively drew back, despite her mouth watering at the sight of the food
"You're finally awake. I was worried with all your wounds that you might not wake up."
"Shut up," Qaya cut in, eyeing the man with intense wariness. "Who are you?"
"Oh, I'm the person who rescued you from the slave camp. My name's Awin. What's yours?"
"…."
"What's the matter?"
"I…I can't remember," she replied, her eyes glistening with tears. Awin put down the bowl and gently pulled her into a comforting embrace.
"Oh, you poor soul. I'll help you remember. I'm sure your family must be worried about you."
"Family?" Qaya whispered, a flicker of confusion in her voice.
"Yes, everyone has a family. I'll help you find yours. Until we do, I'll be your family."
Qaya nodded. Despite her guarded nature, she felt a strange comfort around this man, like a youngling attached to the first being it encounters.
Awin's gaze shifted as he noticed something on her wrist—a small, nearly indecipherable tattoo. He stretched her hand gently, tilting it to make out the letters. "Qaya. I think your name is Qaya."
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Present Day
Melinda stormed into the king's chambers, her face dark with frustration. Awin looked up from his book, mild irritation flickering in his gaze.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"That's what I wanted to ask you back at Hellion House," she hissed. "Why did you embarrass me like that?"
Awin rolled his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"But you do. You asked me to stir up gossip, to spread those rumors about her, and suddenly you make me apologize to her in front of everyone. Why?"
Awin rubbed his temples, his frustration evident. "Is this why you're acting so incorrigible? Do you forget that I am your king? How dare you defy me?"
Melinda instinctively took a step back, her confidence faltering as she realized she may have overstepped. "No, Your Highness, I just—"
"I told you to do all that because I wanted to lure her out. I didn't know I was supposed to report everything to *you,* Queen Melinda."
"Forgive me, my king. You know I've been loyal to you for so long, even before Sir Milton's incident—"
"Then act like it," he commanded, his tone cold. "Now, get out of my sight."
Melinda scurried out, barely able to keep her composure. Her fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned pale.
"No, Awin," she muttered to herself, eyes filled with steely determination. "I will not let another come between us."
To be continued…