Ordering the servants to leave them alone, Edmund demonstrated how to drink tea with his practiced movements.
"Like so," he said, holding the cup in his right hand and the saucer in his left.
Lucian imitated his movements, finding them awkward and unnecessary, but he didn't want to offend his host.
Celine watched them with her chin resting on her hand. She didn't bother with etiquette yet still looked regal. The way she held her cup was the way she wanted to hold it. If the tea spilled, so be it. It was the potter's fault for making it so poorly.
She sat opposite of him and was close enough for him to see through the mesh of the veil. Her gaze held no sadness, only a quiet, simmering anger that seemed to be directed at nobody and everyone at once.
'She's not angry at me for not visiting her earlier, is she?' Lucian wondered. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, so he took a sip of his tea. He almost gagged. The tea was as bitter as his thoughts.
She motioned for him to put down the cup.
He carefully placed it back on the table and she added sugar with a small pair of tongs. Then she poured a few drops of milk from a small jug. She stirred it with a small spoon and pushed the cup back to him.
"Drink," she commanded, but her voice was soft.
He obeyed. It was sweet now, with a pleasant creamy taste that lingered on his tongue. The bitterness was gone, replaced by a warmth that spread through his chest.
"I'm going to marry him, Edmund," she announced suddenly, "Whether someone approves or not, it is going to happen."
Lucian spewed the tea out of his nose, staining the pristine white tablecloth a light brown. It burned. He coughed, trying to catch his breath.
Edmund looked scandalized, more dissatisfied with his sister's lack of decorum than he was with Lucian's. "Celine!"
But Celine only laughed, a sound that was as sweet as the tea she had just prepared for him. It was a rare sound, one that Lucian had not heard in a long time. It made him feel warm inside, a feeling that had nothing to do with the tea. It also made him feel like a fool as she handed him a cloth to wipe his face with.
"Unless," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper, her eyes locking with her brother's. "You have any objections?"
Edwards was at a loss for words. He looked from Celine to Lucian, and back to Celine again. He then looked at the tea stain on the tablecloth, as if it held the answer to his question. It didn't. It was just a stain.
"None," Edmund finally said, his voice strained as he smiled at her. "Not at all."
Lucian knew that he was lying. Edmund looked like he had a lot of objections. He just didn't have the courage to voice them, didn't have the courage to go against his sister's wishes.
Lucian didn't want to end up like Edmund, no matter how much he wanted to marry her. No matter how much he loved her. He wanted to speak up his mind, and so he did, "Why did you reveal our relationship to your brother without consulting me first?"
She stopped smiling. "Are you questioning my actions?"
"I'm not. I'm questioning your motives."
"My motives are simple," she said, her voice cold, "I love you. I want to marry you. I want everyone to know."
'Did she just say she loves me?!' Lucian screamed in his mind, 'And so casually at that?!'
Edmund covered his face to hide his grimace. He was probably not used to such… passionate displays. It was not proper. It was not how high society behaved. But he also knew his sister well. She was a force of nature, and you could not stop a force of nature. You could only hope to get out of its way.
Lucian felt a headache coming on, a dull throb that started at the back of his skull and radiated to his temples. He got into contact with nobles that thought too highly of themselves, thinking the world belonged to them because of the titles they bore.
Celine didn't seem to see that the world was not her servant. She didn't seem to care about the rules, and she thought the rules should bend to her will. She was a spoiled noble girl who always got what she wanted.
And yet, Lucian still loved her.
He was worried about what her family would do, what the society would do. Not to him, but to her. He didn't care about himself. He could take it. He had been taking it his whole life. But she… she shouldn't go through that because of her love for him. She should be protected, cherished, and loved. Not hated, despised, and scorned.
"You're not thinking about the consequences," Lucian said, trying to keep his voice even.
"I am," she replied, her chin held high. "I am thinking about the consequences of not being with you. And I don't like them."
Lucian covered his face like Edmund, his heart jumping in an embarrassing flutter. Her words were just too much. It was like a fairytale. But it was a fairytale that could end in tragedy.
He could already see his future, a future of constant worry and anxiety, a future of trying to keep her out of trouble, a future of her dragging him into trouble.
A future where his heart would be in his throat every time she left the house, every time she spoke to a stranger, every time she went to a party.
Who was she going to offend next? Who was she going to defy? Who was she going to challenge?
How was he supposed to protect her from the world, when she was the one who wanted to take on the world?
He should have taken a deep breath, maybe counted to ten, and then answer. But he didn't. The words were already out of his mouth. "You might lose everything."
"Will I lose you, too?" she asked instead.
He laughed before standing up, "You are being foolish. Try to live in the streets without your family's money, try to be shunned by everyone you know, try to be alone in the world. And then tell me if you still think it's worth it."