"What is wrong with her?" she demanded, her voice sharp with worry. Mira bent over swiftly. "The travel was too long, my lady, and the sun was too strong for Madam Liora. She is unwell, but she will be all right once she rests herself."
Bestrice, the stewardess, scrutinized Liora, observing her ripped dress with the mud marks and the dirt on her feet. Liora leaned heavily upon Mira because she was not even strong enough to speak out.
"This isn't how she's supposed to arrive," she said, firmly but not without a touch of gentleness. "Why wasn't I warned?
We didn't want to raise unnecessary alarm," Mira said quickly, attempting to keep calm. "The carriage had issues on the way, and Madam Liora was taken care of as well as possible. Please forgive the state in which she's arrived."
The steward frowned but didn't argue further. She turned to the house staff waiting nearby. "Prepare her chambers immediately. Warm water, clean sheets, and summon the physician at once. Make sure a light meal is ready as well."
The maids hurried to obey. Mira held Liora tightly, whispering, "Just a few more steps, Madam. We're almost there."
Liora hardly even noticed the grandeur of the estate as she was ushered in. The tall doors opened onto glittering chandeliers and polished marble floors, but her vision was blurry, and her mind was clouded by fever.
Beatrice walked briskly ahead, her heels clicking against the floor. She glanced over her shoulder, her voice clipped. "Once Madam Liora is settled, you and I will speak. There are matters to address."
Mira nodded, her grip on Liora tightening. She hated how vulnerable Liora looked right now. This wasn't how a lady of her standing should be introduced to the estate.
When they reached the chamber prepared for Liora, Mira helped her to the bed, easing her down gently. Liora let out a weak sigh as her head hit the pillow. Her dress, now ruined and caked with mud, clung to her. Mira tried unfastening it with careful hands, but as she saw Liora was too weak to move, she let that dress be on her.
"You're safe now, Madam," Mira said softly. "Rest. We'll take care of everything."
Liora murmured something, and Mira could not decipher it, closing her eyes at last. With a caress, Mira swept aside her madam's strand of loose hair to cool her fevered brow.
Only just in time came the physician bearing his bag of medicines. And Mira watched as he settled into work behind her, and her heart sank. Everything inside this arrival rang wrong. Still, she thought, they managed to fix them before anyone other than Lucien knew.
As Mira stepped out of the room to give the physician some space, she took a deep breath. She knew that the days ahead would not be easy. They had just arrived, and already this situation was pressing down on them. For Liora's sake, Mira vowed to do everything in her power to make things right but at first let her madam rest for a while.
A full hour elapsed before Lady Beatrice actually arrived at Liora's chamber, escorted by a handful of maids. The corridor was dark, the dancing lanterns creating long shadows that crawled on the walls as they moved.
Lucien was not in sight.
Beatrice's keen eyes saw before her as she entered the chamber. The room was set for a new concubine, but the one within it, Liora, was not fit to be introduced.
Liora leaned against the bed, her back stiff in spite of the fever that loaded her down. Her dress, once elegant and delicate, was now creased and caked with mud. Locks of her dark hair stuck to her wet forehead. The maids have not yet cleaned her. She was as if she'd weathered a storm.
The house stewardess, a woman of advanced years and years of service, couldn't keep the shock from her face. While she couldn't question the master's concubines on their personal affairs, she was perplexed as to why Liora was so disheveled. Even the maids behind her whispered among themselves in hushed tones, their glances flicking toward one another in curiosity.
But Beatrice wasn't a gossip. She quelled them with one glance.
"This is the young concubine's condition before the ceremony?" She said, her voice taut but tinged with disapproval.
Mira, standing guard beside Liora, hastily ducked her head. "Madam wasn't well after the trip. The journey was long, and the heat sapped her energy.
Beatrice narrowed her eyes. "The heat?" She looked at Liora's face, which was flushed, tired, and a little pale.
Mira nodded. "Yes, stewardess. She just needs rest."
Beatrice blew out through her nose, unimpressed. "Rest will have to wait. She has to take the vow before His Highness."
Liora hardly flinched. She knew about the ceremony but didn't have the strength to dwell on it. The entire experience seemed far away, as if she were observing it happen to another person.
Beatrice went on, her voice stern, "His Highness will not make a husband's vow. He will only vow things according to the tradition."
The words roused something in Liora's exhausted brain.
The maids standing behind Beatrice murmured again, this time in response to her statement. A concubine was meant to be grateful to be granted her master's protection, but in this instance, it sounded more like a deal with loopholes.
Beatrice addressed Liora. "You need to be ready. The ceremony won't be postponed."
Mira's fists closed. "Stewardess, she is sick. Couldn't it..."
Beatrice's piercing stare shut her up. "No."
Mira bit back her annoyance, then faced Liora, who hadn't uttered a word yet.
Liora took a slow breath, centering herself. It wasn't like she had a choice.
Beatrice waved the maids forward. "Clean her up. Present her to me in a presentable condition."
The maids looked hesitant, wondering if Liora could even be stood up without causing her further harm. Mira sensed their hesitation and took over. "I'll stand her up."
Beatrice did not protest. "Good. I will be back soon. Do not make His Highness wait."
With that, she spun on her heel and departed from the room, her footsteps disappearing down the corridor.
No sooner had the door shut behind her than Mira knelt down at Liora's side, worry evident in her gaze. "Madam, are you certain you can do this?"
Liora's lips opened, but no response emerged forthwith. Then, in soft determination, she breathed, "I have no alternative."
Mira bit her lip, her heart sinking. She knew Liora was right.
The ceremony would happen. Whether Liora was ready or not.
While Liora was being readied within her boudoir, the atmosphere at the estate changed. Footfalls resonated throughout the corridors, and quiet whispers circulated among the servants.
Lucien had arrived.
The overpowering aroma of wine clung to him as he walked through the door, his steps steady for all the inebriation. His dark, piercing eyes, even though he was in his tipsy state, flashed in the direction of the new carriage that stood in the courtyard outside. A sly smile toyed at the corner of his mouth.
His mother had already sent the woman, then.
Anyways, he did not stop to notice it. Instead, he walked on, going directly to his chambers as if everything were in its place.
The lady steward, who was standing at the entrance, bowed low as he went by. She hesitated for a moment before speaking, even though she knew he had not requested a report.
"Your Highness," she said tactfully, keeping her eyes down. "Lady Liora has come."
Lucien continued walking, responding to nothing the steward mentioned.
"The attendant from the Empress Dowager will be arriving soon to finalize the vow ceremony," she continued in her controlled and courteous tone.
Nevertheless, Lucien offered no indication that he had heard her.
The servants who stood around did not move, their breathing light as they looked after him. They were accustomed to his insouciance, but tonight there was an added weight to it.
Behind him, his advisor, looked at the lady steward before nodding in the direction of the hallway. Unlike his master, he had heard the announcement.
Without a word, he quickened his pace, following Lucien down the dimly lit hall toward his chambers.
The night was only just beginning.