Chapter 53. A Walk Through the Garden
Breakfast smelled rich with minced roasted mutton on grain cakes with honeyed cream — Sephora's favorite, though it was rare that the harpy chef, Donivan, made them except for special mornings.
He had been up before dawn, humming to himself, making certain the fruit was perfectly sliced, fine and delicately, and that the cinamon tea was just as the young princess liked it.
When she came into the dining chamber, her eyes were tired and still, but somehow her hair, fashion sense, and makeup were perfect as they ever were. His wings ruffled with curiosity and pride. "Princess Sephora," he said with a broad and open smile, setting the platter down before her. "A little something special for you this morning. After all, I heard Master Mourhollow was here yesterday evening. Thought you'd need your strength, eh?"
A little glint of humour in her eyes, Sephora as she slid gracefully into her chair. "Strength? For tea and scrolls?"
Beginning to pour the cinnamon tea for her, Donivan chuckled, though his eyes twinkled with more far more curiosity than his words let on. "Ah, but there's buzz all through the kitchens, my lady. After all of these noble bachelors swooping about, you give this one so much time and attention — one can't help but wonder. How did it go with young Corvin, if you don't mind my prying?"
Taking her first bite, Sephora paused, her fork resting against the plate. For a moment, she seemed to consider the question. Then, with another small smile that was almost girlish, she waved it away. "Silly. Corvin is no suitor. He's just…" Her voice softened, almost tender. "…a friend. An old and true one. And that is what I needed more than anything else. Nothing interesting to pry about... sorry." She shrugged, continuing her breakfast.
Her pale blue eyes, so often cold in the last few days, warmed at the thought, and the chef could see the ice that had clouded her in the last few days melt away.
Donivan, startled by the change, found himself nodding. "A friend, then," he said, unconvinced but satisfied to see the princess in lighter spirits than she had been of late. "Well, it does my heart good to see you smiling again." He bowed slightly, wings folding back as he bustled away into the kitchens, humming again under his breath.
Sephora lingered over her breakfast, enjoying it more than usual, though her smile vanished the moment the chef was gone.
From the doorway, Maven had entered, silent as shadow, the lines of age heavy across her face. She had overheard enough — the name Corvin, the word friend, the relief in Sephora's tone. The old harpy did not comment on it, but her eyes lingered too long, feeling as though she probably knew more about what went on than she would let on.
"After breakfast," Maven began, after approaching the young harpy from behind, at last, her voice careful, "perhaps a walk through the noble gardens would do you good. The cliffs are bright this morning, and the air is clear. A chance to… ease your thoughts."
The princess didn't answer her.
Instead, she finished her favourite breakfast in silence, not even acknowladging her presence, never mind that she was spoken to.
Finally, with a pointedly loud clamour, Sephora threw down her fork.
That's when she suddenly glanced up, the ice had reformed in her eyes - her newfound armour. She studied the woman for a long moment, then finally rose from her seat. "Very well," she said. "Lead on, old bird."
And with that, the two of them went outside and flew in silence together down towards the nobles' public gardens… it was early, and so it was empty. Raven's rarely came here anyway unless it was some festival or celebration.
The younger harpy with her more leith wings and agile frame, flew a little further and faster than the old salt and peppar harpy wings.
The audacity of it, Sephora couldn't believe the nerve of this servant. Head of house or not... that after breakfast, Maven had suggested they take a walk through the noble quarters' gardens.
Immediately, the princess knew that it was going to be an important conversation. One had best be outside the castle.
It was an odd choice — gardens were not of great interest to Ravens, whose rocky cliffs and halls of obsidian had always been their truest and preferred places of dark beauty — but the old servant pressed the matter gently and was clearly not going to let it go... even insisting it would be good for the princess to have air.
Of course, Sephora was hesitant and irritated. She disliked being told what she needed... but in the end, she agreed, if only because the walls of the palace felt too close that morning and perhaps, too many listening ears.
Maven's once-jet hair had began to dulled into silver and ash, streaks of salt and pepper that fell in long, thinning waves down her back. Once, her wings had been glossy black; now the feathers were frayed, their sheen fading. Age clung to her, though her hands still moved with the discipline of habit, the posture of one who had once been proud.
Beside her, Sephora gleamed. Her straight hair, black as a raven's shadow, hung smooth to her hips. Her wings glistened with polish, every feather sleek and sharp-edged. Her skin was flawless, her cheeks pale as porcelain, her lips a faint, painted rose. Only her eyes betrayed her: pale, frost-bitten blue, so light they seemed almost white. Wrong for a Raven harpy. Wrong in the way her mother would never let her forget.
She carried that wrongness like a blade.
Sometimes hidden.
Sometimes drawn.
Yet a dagger in her heart, her mother had long placed there, one she often liked to twist whenever it suited.
"Behind Queen Nox's back," Sephora said suddenly, her voice sweet and cruel all at once, glancing sidelong at Maven. "That's what we are, you and I."
The old harpy winced. Thankfully, in the gardens, there were no servants nearby to overhear such words.
Maven had raised Sephora since she was a hatchling, and once she had carried pride for the girl — nostalgia for her stubbornness, her fierce little spirit. That pride had withered. Now there was only worry, guilt, and a gnawing fear.
Sephora, for her part, looked down on Maven. The old woman had no victories to her name, no great tales of prowess. Just quiet obedience, housekeeping, and now the trembling guilt of secrets shared. Weakness... just as her mother, Queen Nox, had taught her, Sephora had too grown up to despise weakness.
They walked in silence for a fair few paces until Maven finally spoke. Her voice was soft, cracked but earnest. "You've always been different from your sister," she began slowly, pacing and measuring with her steps. The old servants eyes stayed fixed to the ground in front of her. "Not only your eyes. In spirit, too."
Something was coming, something the old bird would ask of her, and she knew it. As Maven had begun with flattery, so Sephora feigned a mild interest, "Hmm..." That was all she responded with.
"You don't… fit," Maven continued carefully. She was on ice, dangerous thin ice with this area of choice and topic. "Not in the way the court expects. That is not a flaw with you, Sephora, but a flaw with the Rave Court itself. It could be your strength... the Clan's greatest strength. The Raven Clan may yet need a mind that does not fly in the same patterns as the rest and sees things very differently than we all."
Sephora gave a little laugh — not kind, but not sharp either. A sound that neither confirmed nor denied, she cared for the words.
The peace between them held only for a few breaths.
Then Maven lowered her voice, her tone dropping into something raw and trembling. "Princess… we need to speak of the dungeon. Of that—" she swallowed, "…that werewolf."
Fianlly, they were getting to the true topic that the servant wanted to discuss. Sephora's eyes narrowed, her steps stilled. The feigned interest and all sweetness evaporated as her icy armour firmed up internally. "What of it?"
"I've seen you taking food. Water. I beg you — stop. The creature... that monster, it terrifies me, and... your mother-" The silence hung in the air like a spinning dagger, threatening a roulette of both of them at the old servant's realisation, "Your mother, Queen Nox, she does not know??"
The wind whistled in the morning, through a crevice, between stone in part of the rockface nearby, its whistle seemed to add more ice to Sephora's countenance each second, "If your mother discovers it—"
Sephora laughed, but there was no warmth to be found anywhere within in that sound. It was a very different type of laughter, than that she had shared with Corvin the previous day and night, "You fear for my safety? That's rich… coming from the one who helped me drag it into the castle and put it into those old disused dungeons."
Maven flinched as though struck. "I did what I had to do," she said, wringing her hands. "If it had woken loose in the noble quarter, in my sister's mate's home… goddesses above, Sephora, I thought I was protecting us all... But this, now—this is a madness. Risking the madness that comes from one of those creatures. Please. I am begging you: End it. Let it die in the dark of thirst and hydration... or tell your mother before it destroys you and perhaps all of us. Who really knows what that thing is capable of?" She bellowed, trembling visibly with fear.
'The Mourhollows know.' She confirmed in her mind. Before the princes curled her lips, her voice shifted to something very quiet, very low, and very, very, dangerous. "I will do as I please. If you are too frightened to face the consequences, then crawl back into your shadows. You have served my family well, served the Queen and even my late father, before his passing... perhaps, you have just become too old that your hands shake too much in the kitchen, mm? You have enough funds to retire and stop working. That choice is your burden alone, not mine."
The old harpy's eyes shone with desperation. For a moment, she gathered what little steel age had left her. She straightened her wings — faded though they were — and said firmly: "I will not do it anymore. I will not carry its food. Not its water. I cannot risk my life for a beast that could tear me apart."
Something flickered behind Sephora's pale eyes — anger, then a darker chill, the kind that promised memory like a curse. "You're a coward, Maven. Without you, it would never be there... And now you dare leave me to it?" She stepped closer, her voice a venomous whisper that a certain noble family would commend. "You will regret this."
Maven's hands trembled, but she did not bend this time. "So be it," she said, her voice shaking.
For a heartbeat, neither moved.
Then Sephora turned sharply, wings twitching with suppressed fury, and stormed ahead a little through the gardens. The sparse and barely alive flowers around them seemed to wilt in her wake. Maven trailed behind, her chest heavy, praying that she had not just signed her death warrant or retirement with disobedience on this matter.
The idea of a resolution gained though going for a walk was gone, and in its place was something brittle, breaking.
A shadow fell across them. Both looked up. A black figure swept down from the sky, wings vast as thunderclouds. The Raven Queen landed before them with a crash of feathers, her black eyes glittering with unreadable fire.
"Maven," Nox said, her voice deep and resonant. "I see you walk with my daughter. You would not mind if I join?"
The old harpy bowed her head quickly, voice thin. "Your Majesty, I serve as I always have. Doing my utmost for her comfort and safety."
Instantly, Queen Nox's notorious black gaze cut to Sephora. The young princess kept her ice white eyes low, expression neutral, hiding the fury that had not yet cooled.
"Good," Nox said at last. "Sephora, you will walk with me. Alone. Maven, you are dismissed."
Grateful and terrified all at once, Maven bowed again and hurried away, her heart racing.
Behind her, the Queen and her daughter stood together in the garden, two shadows among the flowers. There was something within Queen Nox's eyes that... they were sharp. Sephora's unreadable.
Maven did not dare look back.
What has the Queen heard of that discussion?' Sephora considered running back over every word spoken once more in her head.
The Queen approached with a few paces...