The sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the estate. The sky was painted in soft hues—lavender, peach, bleeding gold into the edges of the sky—like a canvas too delicate to touch. It was the hour when everything looked gentle, even if nothing truly was.
Selene sat by the window, watching the light stretch across the garden. She had hoped to spend the evening alone, perhaps with a book or the quiet company of the willow tree. But her peace was short-lived.
An involuntary knock came.
Anna entered, her expression hesitant. "Lady Alice Eugenia has invited you and His Grace to tea in the gazebo."
Selene didn't move. "I'm not going."
Selene didn't want to go.
She had said so, plainly. But Anna's expression had been tight, hesitation etched all over her face. "The Grand Duchess sent word. She expects you to attend."
Of course she did. The elder just wants an opportunity to rub salt into the wound. What better way to do that other than humiliation?
Selene stood slowly, her limbs heavy. She didn't dress for the occasion at all, and just wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and followed Anna out, her steps heavy with reluctance.
Just like a marionette, she followed orders mechanically. It was not because she wanted to, but because refusal had its own consequences.. she couldn't afford to offend her directly if she wanted her plan to bear fruit.
The garden was quiet, save for the rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of birds settling in for the night. The gazebo stood at the far end, draped in soft linens and surrounded by blooming wisteria. Its pillars wrapped in vines.. a scene too curated to be real.
Theodore and Alice were already seated when Selene arrived.
They sat across from each other, a small table between them, silver trays glinting in the fading light. Theodore was smiling—
He was smiling.
Not the kind of smile that reached the eyes—but still, it was there.
Alice leaned forward, her posture relaxed, her fingers curled around the edge of her teacup.
Selene's steps slowed, pausing at the entrance.
Alice noticed her immediately. "Selene! You made it," she said brightly, as if they were old friends. She motioned to the maid. "Bring the tea."
Selene sat down slowly, choosing the seat furthest from both of them. She didn't speak. Her eyes drifted to the horizon, where the sun was slipping behind the trees.
The maid returned with a tray—three cups, each identical, each filled with amber warmth.. She placed one in front of each guest, then bowed and stepped back.
Alice's eyes flicked to the cups—just briefly. Her smile didn't waver, but something in her gaze was noticeable. She watched the steam rise, her fingers tapping lightly against her saucer.
She had poisoned one of the teas. Not lethally—just enough to cause discomfort and confusion.
She didn't know who would drink it. That was the point. A roulette of civility.
It was a game to her. A quiet thrill for a lunatic.
Selene reached for her cup, then paused.
She just wasn't thirsty.
Theodore lifted his cup first. The steam curled upward, catching the last light of the sun. He took a slow sip, eyes drifting toward the garden's edge where the shadows had begun to stretch.
"You always drink too quickly," she said, voice light, almost teasing.
He glanced at her. "It's just tea."
"Still," she replied, lifting her own cup delicately, "some things are meant to be savored. Or..do you want this to end so quickly?"
Selene noticed the flicker in her eyes—the way her breath caught for half a second, then resumed. It was subtle. Too subtle for most. But Selene had spent years reading expressions that didn't match words.
Alice placed her cup, untouched.
Selene didn't say anything. Although she found it odd when Alice lifted her cup as if to drink—but she didn't.
The conversation was light. Alice spoke of the weather, of the new shipment of fabrics arriving from the west, of the Duchess's plans for the autumn ball. Theodore responded politely, but his eyes drifted often—His gaze lingered on the path where she had walked moments earlier.
Alice followed his eyes. "She's not fond of gatherings, is she?"
Selene didn't engage. She let the words pass over her like wind through reeds.
"She's tired," he said.
Alice smiled faintly. "Of you?" And giggled jokingly that didn't belong in the moment.
Selene—she was tired at every part of her body. The kind of tired that settled into the bones and refused to leave, the kind that made every word feel like effort.
Theodore's lack of engagement made the quiet even louder—just like how Alice's anticipation grew.
She watched both of them closely, waiting for signs. A cough? A wince? A falter in speech? or better yet, an entire life and death showdown.
There was nothing yet.
Her eyes flicking between the cups. Her smile remained, but it was stretched too tightly across her face—like a ribbon pulled taut, waiting to snap.
Finally, in the tense silence, she leaned back, tilting her head. "You're quiet today, Selene."
Selene didn't look at her. "I'm always quiet."
Alice smiled. "Not always. I remember a time when you used to sing."
Selene's fingers tightened around the cup.
Theodore glanced at her, something flickering in his eyes. Was it regret? maybe.
Alice noticed for a brief a moment.
She then continued, her voice smooth and cunning. "You used to sing in the chapel garden. The nuns boasted your voice could calm storms."
Selene placed the cup down, untouched.
"I don't sing anymore."
Alice's smile faltered. "Pity."
The sun dipped lower, casting golden light across the table. At this point, the tea cooled..the tension did not.
Selene finally spoke first, her voice gentle and weak. "Why did you invite me?"
Alice blinked. "Why wouldn't I?" wearing a puzzled expression.
"You don't like me."
Alice smiled. "That's not true."
Selene tilted her head. "Then what is?"
Alice's smile faltered just slightly. "Well— thought it would be nice. For all of us."
The maid returned briefly, adjusting the tray, refilling the sugar bowl. She bowed and left again, her footsteps fading into the gravel.
Theodore took another sip, looking between them, sensing the shift.
Selene noticed the way Alice's gaze lingered—not on him, but on the cup.
She sensed that something was off.
She couldn't name it, couldn't prove it, but the air definitely felt heavier. Alice's anticipation was too sharp, for a decade-face-reader.
Selene stood. "I've had enough tea."
Theodore looked up. "Already?"
She nodded. "I'm not feeling well."
"You didn't even drink your tea." Alice's voice was soft and almost too caring.
Selene met her gaze, mustering a faint smile "I wasn't thirsty."
Alice's smile returned, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Of course."
She turned and walked away, her shawl trailing behind her like a shadow.
Alice watched her go, fingers tightening around her cup.
Now, the bright sun had vanished, leaving only the lavender sky and the quiet hum of insects in the grass.
Alice reached for her own cup, lifted it, and took a sip.
She didn't flinch.
She had chosen carefully.
---
Selene returned to the annex, her steps slow, her breath shallow.
She didn't know what had happened in the gazebo. But something in Alice's gaze unsettled her.
She sat by the window again, watching the last light fade.
The hyacinths on the desk had begun to curl at the edges. They hadn't wilted yet—just tired. She found it her comfort that she could see herself in pretty flowers.
A memory of Theodore smiling mirrored the person who once smiled ever so brightly at Selene in the past.
She pressed a hand to her chest, trying to steady the ache.
Theodore remained in the gazebo longer than he meant to.
He was solely focused on Selene.
He remembered the way she had looked—quiet, distant, unreadable.
Something didn't sit right.
He stood. "I should go."
Alice blinked. "So soon?"
He nodded. "I need to check on her." And turned to leave.
He left without another word.
Alice sat alone, the empty cups before her, the wisteria swaying gently in the breeze.
She had played her hand. All that's left was to wait.
Back in the annex, Selene lay on the divan, her eyes closed, she felt strange.
Not ill... it wasn't that.
She didn't know if it was the tea, or the tension, or the weight of everything that had come before.
She didn't know what else mattered.
The door creaked open.
Theodore stepped inside, his expression unreadable.
"Is everything alright?" he said quietly.
Selene opened her eyes. "Ofcourse."
He sat beside her, not too close.
"You didn't have to come."
Selene didn't reply.
He looked at her, eyes brimming with concern.
He reached for her hand, hesitated, then let it rest between them.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She didn't answer.
Outside, the sky turned darker.
Inside, the silence grew heavier.