A letter with the Montclair emblem sat on Leander's vanity.
The room was gloomy, the only light being of the dying embers in the fireplace and a sliver of moonlight that slipped through the tall curtains.
He was sitting cross legged on his favorite pale green chaise, eyes unfocused and distant.
In the quiet of the night, a knock echoed on his door.
"Yes?" he asked aloud, voice deeper than he intended.
"It's me." Sabrina's voice rang out from the other side.
"...Come in."
The door slowly creaked open, and shut again, accompanied by the soft padding of footsteps. Which was unusual, since she was usually associated with the harsh clacking of her heels.
She quietly deduced what was going on as she sat down on a nearby couch.
"...How are you?"
Leander looked up, "Managing, you?"
She offered a weak smile, "I could say the same."
A moment passed in silence, neither knowing what to say.
Trying to lighten the mood, Sabrina finally asked, "What's a letter from Montclair doing here?"
"I was just about to burn it." he replied casually.
"Without reading it?" She got up and grabbed the letter from the vanity, sitting back down.
She froze when she saw who it was from.
"Artemesia?"
"I told you, I was about to burn it."
"May I read it?"
"...Go ahead."
She carefully opened the envelope, and skimmed through the beautiful cursive inside.
Leander let her take her time. He himself didn't know what was inside. And he didn't want to find out either.
A few minutes later, she put it back in the envelope and placed it cautiously on the coffee table.
Leander picked it, and got up. He lit a match, and watched the parchment shrivel to ashes on his windowsill.
When he was about to blow the remnants away into the night sky, he saw a little bit that remained unburnt.
I'm sorry.
He picked it up, and made sure to rip it a few times before swiping at it.
The wind carried away the ashes of her letter, and the emotion he burned along with it.
Sitting back down, he felt a wave of an unfamiliar emotion washing over him
Relief? Or satisfaction?
"You don't want to know what she said?" The Countess, who'd been observing him, quietly asked.
"You know, right? That's all I need."
He stayed silent for a while.
Finally, he whispered, "I loved her."
Sabrina caught that. "Why the past tense?"
"Because... I love her no longer."
"I doubt that."
"I don't."
"Are you sure?"
"...No."
He seemed so confident a second ago, but now, his reply was full of uncertainty.
He took a deep breath.
"I don't actually... know if... I'm capable of loving her no longer." A pause. Then, "But if it can stop my heart from bleeding, and her words from sounding crueler than they were intended, then I will continue to live an ugly lie."
Sabrina chuckled soundlessly, "For most, it's the truth that's ugly. I guess you have a different story."
"Yes, a far different one." He replied, his eyes distant.
. . .
"Who is it that you write so dedicatedly to?" Jonathan commented as he passed Artemesia's new office.
Artemesia looked up from the parchment, "A new friend of mine,"
"Oh. Have you been getting along with the other ladies well, I suppose?"
She hummed, but her eyes were fixed on the salutation inscribed on the paper. The one name her letters always started with. She wrote it so much that the strokes of his initials started feeling familiar to her.
To: Leander Halycra, From: Artemesia Montclair
"He must be busy these days." she mumbled to nobody in particular.
Actually, the whole Imperial family seemed quiet. The Empress wasn't attending any gatherings, and the Emperor seemed to be busy in his own duties as a ruler. The Imperial Siblings hadn't been seen in public for a while as well.
I wonder if everything is okay.
She picked something up, and stared at it.
A letter. A few more were piled up in a corner on her desk.
They were all unstamped, but she straightened it anyway and put it in front of her.
The same salutation.
She considered stamping it. She didn't.
. . .
It's quite strange, isn't it? Some people arrived too often, while others did not arrive at all.
"Are you enjoying the tea, Ari?"
Artemesia nodded soundlessly.
This was the fourth or fifth time Florence had brought her these tea leaves. It wasn't that the flavor was bad, Tia was just getting sick of it.
She decided to bring it up with Julian.
But before she could open her mouth to talk, someone burst into Tia's room without warning.
"Is this Artem- oh my." she threw the doors open as they stepped inside, smiling at her soon to be daughter-in-law, "Artemesia!"
Thedosia followed her inside, a bit unnerved, "Please don't just barge in like that."
Both Julian and Tia rose from the couch to greet the Duchess of Blackridge, but Tia was slightly irritated.
"Oh, don't worry, Thedosia," She spread her arms for a hug, "She doesn't mind."
Artemesia cleared her throat, and coldly replied, "I very much do, Duchess Blackridge."
The room went still, the air turning cold. The Duchess stood there, stunned.
Julian nudged her, but Tia refused to be shaken. "Please, have a seat."
She quickly withdrew her arms and sat down on the couch opposite to them. So did Thedosia.
There was an awkward silence as Artemesia poured them tea. Julian kept exchanging glances with his mother. She didn't know what they meant, yet Thedosia caught each one, no matter how discreet.
Tia set the cups in front of the women and sat back down, smiling.
Though it didn't quite reach her eyes.
"So, Your Grace, I'm sure you know why we've gathered here."
The Duchess once again stuck to the titles. Good, the scare worked.
"Yes, though I would've appreciated sitting in the drawing room instead of my daughter's bedroom for this."
She seemed to ignore that, "Lady Artemesia?"
"Go ahead, Your Grace. I am all ears."
"I want to make sure everyone is comfortable before we proceed." She laughed, "After all, Lady Artemesia was uncomfortable at the thought of discussing marriage in her guardian's absence."
"Oh, really?" Thedosia raised a brow at her daughter, who nodded in response.
But I never told Duchess Blackridge about it.
Julian cleared his throat, catching everyone's attention. "I think it might be wise to wrap up the wedding before the end of the social season."
"Which means... next month?" Thedosia frowned, fingers drumming lightly on her lap. "Isn't that a bit... soon? There's still so much to prepare."
Duchess Blackridge's lips curved into a soft smile, but her eyes lingered a moment too long on Artemesia. "Sooner is often better. Lady Artemesia will need time to settle in, and with your son's succession coming up, it would be unfortunate if the two events overlapped."
Thedosia hesitated. "True, but there's still time. We could always have the wedding after the succession."
Julian leaned forward, casually resting a hand on the arm of his chair. "Mother only wants what's best for Ari. A quiet period to settle into her new home, there's nothing wrong with that." His smile was easy.
Artemesia was quietly watching the interchange. She didn't mind the marriage date, but as the Duchess said, she didn't want both, her brother's succession and her marriage, to be held at the same time. It would take a toll on both Jonathan and Thedosia.
But something about the venomous look in their eyes unsettled her.
"Hm... I'll have to discuss this with my children first," Thedosia finally said, voice calm, though her eyes flicked briefly toward Julian. "I'll let you know when he's arrived. We can set a specific date then."
A flash crossed the Duchess's face, just for a second, before her smile returned. Julian's eyebrows rose slightly, but he followed suit with a polite nod.
"Whatever you say, Your Grace."
They got up to take their leave. Thedosia and Tia went too, to see off her in-laws.
As they were being escorted to their carriage, Duchess Blackridge made quite an infuriating remark.
"I must say, your family ties are very strong." she said, that obnoxious smile still plastered over her face.
Thedosia clenched her fist, struggling to keep quiet.
Artemesia, however, did not hesitate in putting her in her place, "One might note you are no less... steadfast, Duchess. I bid you farewell."
She turned her back to the Blackridges as the doors shut on their faces.