CHAPTER 7

“There you are.” She looked up from checking her dress for anything out of order to see her sister Lyra coming towards her, drink in hand. “You left before even a dance.”

She's drunk.

Groaning internally, she walked towards her, carefully grabbing the drink from her hand, ignoring her protests.

“Where’s papa?” she asked, taking her sister's hand, leaving the drink on a nearby table. She led her through the drunken crowd, avoiding the circle of people dancing, tugging on Lyra’s hand when she tried to join them.

“Can you not enjoy it for at least one night,” she slurred. She already had. In her own way.

“Where is papa?” she asked-shouted-over the music. Again. Lyra pointed to a door that led to a room connected to the ballroom which was always used for lounging with the low sofas scattered around the room and curtains acting as a barrier for people who want some…privacy. Mainly when the smaller rooms in the room itself were occupied.

But those were on the other end of the room.

She found her father closer to the door, talking amongst other nobles. Well, they were talking more than he was.

Verena walked up behind him, ignoring the eyes that glanced and stared at her as she passed. She leaned down and whispered in her father's ear, “I believe Lyra’s done for tonight.”

He glanced to the right, towards the door, where her sister stood, swaying on her feet as she looked at something behind the slightly ajar door.

He nodded and stood. She felt more than saw her mother's eyes turn to them as she began to say her goodbyes and stand as well. She moved to grab Lyra and practically dragged her out of the ballroom, waving at a servant to call for their carriage as she did.

She waited outside in the courtyard as Lyra leaned on her, dosing off already. When the carriage arrived, she helped her into it as carefully as possible, staying outside hereself. Her parents came moments later. She moved aside to let her mother in the carriage. As she did, she moved to her fathers side.

She took his hand and tugged slightly, making him look at her. She just looked at him, and tilted her head to the carriage. He understood. He always did since she had been doing this for years.

He waved at the coachmen to go and they both made their way to the gate. Out and into the city, walking the rest of way to the manor on foot, the city having fallen to a hush at this late hour, except for the occasional drunk passing. Most had already gone home after the initial ceremony ended before the royal family came to the ballroom.

They had been doing this since she was twelve and papa used to bring her over to the castle. As he did a lot back then because he didn’t wish to leave her alone in the manor, knowing she didn’t get along with her sister.

At that time, she had been curious and wanted to see the city in the daytime and not in a carriage. Had begged her father to let them walk home that evening, of only to see the leaves turn into varying shades of brown and red as they fell on the pathways. To feel the cool autumn air and not the suffocating air in the carriages. He had relented then. They hadn’t stopped since then.

There was something refreshing about walking through the city at night. The cool air with the calm hush, it was a different kind of beauty. Freedom. However short-lived.

She stepped on the edge of the sidewalk that was raised and walked while balancing on it, her father refusing to drop her hand despite her reassurance that she could do it just fine. She saw him smile from her peripheral vision, amused. And she smiled too.

Now, these were the only quiet times they could get.

They passed a few markets and restaurants still open at this time, and people dining as well.

They passed a dessert shop she loved and dragged papa in with her and he only chuckled, letting her buy the cold vanilla and raspberry dessert on a cone. They came here often enough that the man behind the counter only smiled when they entered, ringing the bell on top of the door entrance, and started preparing her usual order before she could even reach the counter.

They walked home in silence after that, papa, at some point, pulled her closer to him so she walked with his arm around her shoulder.

And for the rest of the hour, until they reached the manor, she felt safe. Calm. At peace.

—

She should have known last night was the only good night she was going to have for a while. She would have prepared herself for it.

Because the next day was awful.

She woke up with Adeena pestering her continuously throughout her morning routine. And she grumpily answered her questions about what happened the entire night. She left out the walk-in with the stranger, however. She didn't need to know that. Not that it was important either.

She needed her ears intact. And after realizing her answers were the same as ever, she unwillingly let her leave for breakfast.

Outside she met Kyler who told her there was another meeting tonight. Short but they had to be there.

Then on her way to breakfast, Lyra joined her and with a sour expression on her face, she guessed her sister was sporting a killer headache.

She walked slowly next to her and mumbled, “Thanks. Again.”

No, it was not the first time she had dragged her sister out of parties while she was drunk. Sometimes blacked out. Of only to avoid her making a fool of herself and just so mother doesn't go off on her.

“I’m surprised you didn’t disappear with your lordling,” she said casually, face still ahead.

Lyra had a very inconsistent relationship with one of the noble sons who she had met at her own coming of age. She took every chance to be left alone with him at balls and parties for the past two years.

They might just be in love at this point in time, heaven forbid. She nearly gagged at the thought.

Not to mention it was supposed to be a secret, from their parents, her friends, and her. Especially her. Verena only found out a year and a half ago because they had been leaving earlier than expected and her mother had sent her off to find Lyra.

Only to find her sister in one of the rooms in the host's manor, she forgot who, with her lover. Now, she had planned to peek in to see if her sister was there or not, because she had been through thirty different rooms as it was already. Only to find them both….engaged in activities.

Or rather, re-engaging.

She hadn’t even asked, couldn't have cared less, but Lyra had confessed the next morning, a rare occasion in which she stepped-barged- into her room. And begged to keep it a secret.

But never did she say not to tease.

She glared at her, then groaned at her headache. “Who says I didn’t.”

She only spared her a glance, raising a brow. Lyra sighed.

“He had to leave early because he was traveling early this morning.”

“That explains it,” she mumbled, reaching the breakfast hall.

Papa wasn’t there.

Kyler reached them and whispered to her when she stopped suddenly, searching the room.

“He was called to the palace not even an hour ago.” She groaned internally. Again. She knew what was about to happen now, she complained to herself as she took her seat next to Cathan, gently tapping him on the top of his head as she did, earning a playful glare in return.

And as she had expected, not a while after mother and Lyra had started talking, they turned to her and her mother said the words she dreaded.

“Why not accompany your sister to tea today, Verena? It would be good for you to sit and chat with girls your age.”

“I’d rather not.” She truly wouldn’t. Nothing was more gruesome than sitting with those girls gossiping and talking about boys and suitors.

Where was death when she needed him? Sipping his morning tea while laughing at her misery no doubt.

“You haven’t gone in a long time, Verena, people talk you know.”

“And they have nothing better to do,” she countered. “I’ll be fine. Lyra goes without me anyway.”

“Oh, but Verena, if you go this one time, I won’t ask for a while after.” Lies. Utter lies.

There it was. They were not going to let it go until she agreed. She grimaced but agreed.

She knew she would leave five minutes later anyway.

Hence, here she was now, annoyed at the slightest tugs Adeena makes on her hair, Kyler laughing in the back while leaning against the doorway.

“You are coming along, you realize this, don't you?” she seethed.

He laughed again. Bastard. “I’d gladly stand idly if I get to watch you see you pissed over a cup of tea.”

“Language,” Adeena hissed, making them both roll their eyes.

“I’ll leave in a few minutes anyway,” she mumbled. “And why do they want to go out after a ball? In the sweltering heat, nonetheless.”

“You,” they both say in unison. She glared at them through the mirror.

“There,” Adeena said, looking for any flaws in her hair. She had done a half up, half down with a few strands falling in the front of her face. “At least you’ll be looking the best there.”

“She always does,” Kyler mumbled. They both turned to look at him, brows raised. "You know what I mean, with all the other ladies in their ruffled gowns weighing them down. At least you can run in that dress.”

“She could run in those dresses they wear in the deadliest-looking heels,” Adeena stated.

Verena only stood as they both bickered, careful of her dress before she grabbed a book from herself and handed it to Kyler on her way out.

“Ah yes. On top of being your guard, I will also be your book carrier. Anything else, M’lady?”

“Shut your mouth and walk,” she called after him when he was still standing at the doorway. He cursed and followed after her.

—

Later, in the carriage, sitting opposite each other with both of them staring out the window, Lyra says out of the blue,

“Don’t get mad.” She already didn’t like this. She glanced at her older sister but she was gazing outside and continued, “Lady Maren is going to be there.” No.

Beautiful. Just lovely. She turned to Lyra who had finally looked at her, slight worry on her face.

Verena leaned in and said in all seriousness, “You do realize that humans have seven trillion nerves in my body. And somehow, that wench manages to get on every single one of mine.”

Lyra blinks, then bursts out laughing.

She says amidst her laughing, “I'm serious Lyra.”

She manages to calm down enough to laugh, “Oh no. I’m aware of that.” She giggles. “Well, we can both sit and silently judge every move she makes.”

“I’ll be dying of a headache hearing her voice,” she complains, leaning back in her seat, and sighing in frustration.

Lyra smiled softly, “It’ll take one word, and you can shut her mouth for the rest of the time there.”

“She’ll start talking two minutes after every jab. I will not expend energy on someone so self-righteous.”

“What if she insists on talking to you?” she asks, amused, resting her head on her hand.

“I won’t entertain her.” Refused to. That was that. Then the carriage stopped. A moment later, they stepped out and entered the coffeehouse that was made specifically for nobles. It was also one of the best and most expensive coffeehouses in the capital.

They were immediately greeted by the head waiter who took one look at them both and straightened to which they both exchanged a knowing look.

He led them up a flight of stairs to the private room for those who asked for it. It was used for more high-ranking nobles. He gestured to a table at the far end of the room before leaving, his posture rigid.

Her and Lyra looked after him when he left and shared amused glances before someone called their names.

They looked over the table he had pointed at, and sure enough, on a table close to the small terrace, sat seven different ladies. All of them she knew. But other than Calista, she didn’t bother interacting with others.

Lyra moved first, a smile etched on her face. “Lady Maren.” Dear God, help her. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

She followed after her, greeting the others before taking the seat that was conveniently next to the window.

“Lovely to see you again, Lady Verena,” Maren said, a sickly sweet smile on her face that was far too big to be real. It was written all over her hazel eyes. She only nodded in response, as nonchalant as always.

At least she was controlling her bored expression.

Before Maren could go on, Calista said, “I love your dress, Verena. I-”

“That may be, but is it right to wear something such as that?” Maren asked.

Verena raised a brow at her. “I’d rather be comfortable in the heat rather than not in your layers.” Indeed, even if the room was cool due to the internal cooling system in the building, seeing all of them in their layered clothes and corsets was suffocating her. Thank heavens she was wearing a single-layered dress, a dark red hugging her torso and cinched at the waist.

Maren pursed her lips but said nothing else. A moment later, they all fell into a flow of conversations about the weather and politics they didn’t understand. Honestly, the suggestions and conclusions they were coming up with were frightening.

But she just sat and observed, giving short answers to questions anyone asked her. A waiter came to fill her cup, asking if she would like tea or coffee.

Coffee. Black and as bitter as possible. He only nodded and came back a moment later with her drink, steaming and the aroma calming her. Oh, this was heaven on earth.

She took a bite of her macaron as Calista whispered something in her ear. Something regarding last night's ball.

But she could barely pay attention since her gaze fell outside the window to the group of children playing not far from the coffeehouse.

It wouldn’t have been much for her to look at but then she saw their gaze land on the entrance of the coffeehouse as someone was leaving, their servants carrying boxes of desserts behind them.

The children were looking at the desserts. And seeing the longing looks on their faces made something in her chest tighten.

She looked back and waved over the servant. She caught Kyler's curious gaze as she did but she ignored him.

She had the boy lean over so she could whisper the instruction in his ear. He gave her a curious yet slightly shocked look before straightening up and leaving. She also ignored the look her sister gave her. No one else paid her any heed.

Less than ten minutes later, she saw someone else leave the shop, a large basket filled with small pastry boxes. He went up to the children, crouched down, and handed them each a box that she knew had a cupcake, two macarons, and a pastry each.

The children were confused at first but now had full-out grins break over their faces and the pure delight on their faces warmed her. One little boy looked around after the man left with an empty basket until his gaze landed up on the window. He looked right at her.

She moved back but not before she saw him smile and mouth the words, “Thank you.”

She moved away from the window and took a sip of her coffee, her mood having lifted slightly.

But then someone came and tapped her shoulder.

She looked over and saw a different waiter, a young boy. He stammered and she felt the eyes of everyone on the table fall on her.

He held out a box- No. A book. She read the title as she took it from him. She didn’t recognize it, but she recognized the author.

Avior Laxsus.

She looked up at the boy who told her that the gentlemen at the other table had given it to her. A gift. If that didn’t perk up everyone on the table, she didn’t know what would have. Just what she needed.

She however thanked the boy before glancing at the table he had mentioned.

Ah. Here we are. Alec raised his cup of coffee before taking a sip, a pleased look on his face. His companion, someone she hadn’t seen before either, snickered at him, turning Alec’s attention to him.

She turned back in her seat, looking at the book before looking up at the cleared throat.

Sir Alec. You are a bastard.

Calista smirked. “I didn’t know you knew him.”

She looked at her confused. “I don’t.”

“That gift says otherwise,” she countered.

Verena rolled her eyes. “I don’t. I saw him last night. I wouldn’t even say we interacted.”

What a lie.

“He’s not bad to look at,” Maren said, looking over at his table. The others agreed, doing the same. “Who is he, though?” someone wondered. Rosalia.

She met Lyra’s eyes who saw the exasperation in her eyes and gave her an amused look before saying, snapping them all out of their trance. “So, did anyone else hear? About the ball last night.”

Maren looked back at Lyra. “You don’t mean.”

“Could be,” she shrugged.

“The second prince hasn’t made an appearance since he was what, twelve?”

“But I overheard Prince Ade talking with my father last night,” Calista cut in. “And he said his brother was there. Somewhere but he was just…hiding amongst the crowd, I supposed.”

That was a possibility, wasn’t it? She took another sip of her coffee before Maren like an absolute idiot opened her mouth.

“Could you recognize the prince, Verena?”

She looked at her, confused, brow furrowed.

She shrugged. “I remember hearing that Valen-”

She froze. Everything in the room stopped then when she heard that name. She stared at nothing, her ears ringing. She was distinctly aware of shouts, Lyra hissing at Maren to shut her mouth, forbidding her to finish the sentence. Everyone else must be causing some kind of uproar, their disapproval clear.

A hand gripped her arm and helped her stand. A hand on her back guided her towards the door. Kyler.

She snapped out of her shock, and shoved Kyler away, ignoring him, Lyra and Calista calling after her, the former two following her. She heard later the others left moments later, leaving Maren alone.

She stormed down and outside, their carriage already ready before the door. She climbed in without a word.

A waiter came out and handed them a box of desserts she had ordered packed for Cathan.

She paid no one any heed. Kyler sat next to the coachmen, Lyra silent on the other side of the carriage.

The silence. It was deafening.

Silently, the carriage set off back to their manor.

A few minutes of silence as they left the area. She was already on edge. But Lyra said in a quiet soft voice, “Do you-”

She snapped. No. She wasn't even going to deal with this. She slammed her fist on the side of the carriage, hard enough to rattle it, enough to leave and imprint on it. “Stop!” she growled. The coachmen stopped immediately.

“Verena-” Lyra started but she opened the door just as Kyler was about to open the door. She jumped out and ignored everyone and everything. She stormed off.

Had she looked back, she would have seen Kyler tell Lyra to go back to the manor before chasing after her. When she heard his footsteps right behind her she turned and growled, “I’m not getting back in-”

“I’m not asking you to,” he said, grabbing her arm and urging her to walk again. “I know where you’re going.”

She paused, glancing at him for a second before facing ahead. They walked in silence in the busy streets, some giving them a wide berth, wide-eyed. She paid them no heed. But Kyler wasn't since he led them both to the more secluded pathways.

She kept walking. And walking and walking. There was not a single thought in her head except the ringing. All in a daze, the path muscle memory now with the number of times she had walked it in the past years on lonely nights. Nights she snuck out in.

She felt a hand on her back that got her attention. She looked at Kyler who nodded at her to go ahead. He would wait at the gate.

She nodded thankfully at him before stepping onto the dirt path. She walked on and on, the hem of her dress covered in dirt but she didn’t care. Her mind was empty as she passed headstone after headstone.

So many. It went on for miles. Until she reached a path with trees. The path ended. You had to trek through the unmade path through the trees now.

She walked, more headstones. It went on until there were none. Then ahead. A single old tree stood, a single headstone beneath.

She swallowed, taking a shaky breath before walking over to it. Slumped down in front, breathing in and out. Made herself read the words etched on the stone.

Valen Ezlyn

Beloved

Son

It was simple enough. And right below that, etched out by the hands of trembling ten-year-old an hour after the burial,

Brother

She traced a hand over her shaky carving of the word, tears streaming silently down her face now.

She reached into her pocket and took out the stones she had collected on the way here. She picked out seven of the best ones, and gently moved the old ones to make room for the new ones.

Not flowers. Flowers aged and died. Stones stayed. Though she made an occasional exception.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, staring at the name, whispering to him. Little tidbits of what had happened since she last visited. Telling him how she imagined what he would have done in those times. Told him she missed him. That she loves him.

Val. Her brother.

Her twin. Her other half. He was supposed to be here. They should be together, back home.

But he wasn’t. He wasn’t here. She sobbed aloud at the thought, covering her face in her hands.

I miss you. I miss you, I miss you.

She sobbed the words, kneeled there, bowed over his grave, face in her hands as she cried, the words mixed with sobs. They kept tumbling out. They didn’t stop. They won’t go away.

The pain won’t go away.

She cried for who knows how long there. Then went silent.

Slowly, she sat up. Pressed her forehead against the headstone. She could have sworn she felt her elder brother right there, caressing her cheek, a smile on his face as he told her it was going to be alright.

No. It wasn’t. It wasn’t, she wanted to say.

They looked the same. Identical. The same face, same eyes, bright as sapphires, the same onyx hair, dark as the night.

They should have grown up to be the same too. And she saw it sometimes. Not the ten year old boy. But as she had aged, she imagined he had too. That time hadn’t stopped for him after death. He had aged with her.

So now, she sat, imagining a handsome seventeen-year-old sitting before her, the same cheeky grin on his face. That wasn’t hard to imagine. She choked on a laugh at the thought.

Forever and always, Ver, he said.

“Forever and always, Val,” she whispered.

She wiped at her face in the end. Stood up. She glanced at the aging tree above her, casting a shade on the grave. Some may mistake it for an old yew tree. She had as well when she was younger.

But she learned it wasn’t. In the winter the most beautiful of flowers bloomed on the tree. Frost flowers. They looked like roses but in varying shades of blue. From the palest blue it was almost white to the darkest shade it was almost black.

They had been her and Val’s favorite since they were young. She was the one who had asked for this tree specifically to be planted here. She remembers asking her father the night after they buried him when he had stayed with her that night in bed. Her father had only turned his head away, and nodded, unable to say a word.

She cast one last glance at the grave before walking away, dusting the dirt lazily from her dress. What was the point now? It was filthy anyway.

She walked back to the gate. Hopefully, Kyler would be as silent as he had been on the way here.

But when she reached the gate, she stopped.

He wasn’t alone.