It was past noon when they finally made their way to Rosehall. Mira had chosen a sea green gown that draped gracefully to the sides. Its hem is almost sweeping the floor.
Mira wore a dress the color of yellow tulips. Diane thought the color suited her the best. She swings the basket of flowers sideways as she hums a song happily.
"You seem excited. Were you not against us coming here?" She asked Mira, who was now almost jumping hops as she hummed.
"No, milady, I was only against you thinking about meeting Lord Dravon." "Every chance I get to leave the house is good news." She stopped jumping around like a child and stood before Diane suddenly, making her stop in her tracks.
She looked at her face carefully, as if searching for blemishes or a smudge. Just anything. She pushed the strand of hair that had escaped the puff she had made earlier and hid it behind her ears. This gave Diane a tingling sensation. Mira looked at the other side to ensure no hair was peeking out too; finally satisfied, she turned and started walking away.
Diane knew instantly that she must have been very close to Athea, because every show of care from Mira felt so natural. Like it has all been done every day, all their lives.
To get to Rosehouse, they would pass the Pluto house first. And this meant they had to go round the many residences that surrounded Pluto's house. Rose Hall stood at the far end of them all. It was initially where Dravon's mother lived before her death, and until a year ago it had been vacant. Lady Vanice, whom the duke married eight years later, had wanted to occupy it for the longest time, and early this year, the duke let her for peace to reign.
So this year's memorial was more like a victory celebration for her. For once, she felt like she had finally replaced the woman who refused to remain only a ghost in her home. She vowed also to make this the last of such unnecessary ceremonies.
When Diane saw the beautiful edifice, she realized why anyone would strive to live there. It was unarguably the most beautiful house in Ravenforth Manor.
"Milady, you don't have to be nervous." Mira whispered with her eyes darting nervously. Diane couldn't help but imagine who between them both is the nervous one.
"I'm not nervous," Athea said, even though she knew she was nervous, just a bit.
Outside the residence, several servants hurried everywhere. Things were either being moved out or brought in. Instructions were flying over each other, and nobody seemed to take notice of her arrival.
They made for the entrance hall, where a not-so-tall maid greeted Athea with a stiff bow.
"Lady Athea, her grace is expecting you." The short maid said. She started to walk towards a broad hallway. They followed suit as Diane scanned the beautiful decorations that graced it. She came across a sculpture that looked like something an aspiring artist would sculpt. It was of a baby, being held by two hands that looked fragile, like they were going to drop the baby anytime soon.
And while the sculpting looked so amateur, Diane knew that the artist had taken too much care into it. She picked one of the yellow freesias and placed it on the fragile hands, as if to give her moral support.
"You have to be very careful inside here, Athea; they would like to find anything to use against you, whether you stay calm or not." "Willful avoidance is the only card you should play today." Mira breathed into her ears as they walked into a hall half filled with suggestive faces Diane had never seen.
She gave her a slight nod and smiled. She had watched so many dramas that she could most times predict the outcome of secret wars and meetings against a hated protagonist. And in this place, she is the protagonist but will not be the victim.
A group of people clustered in smaller groups talking in hushed voices. No face felt familiar.
Suddenly a man was walking towards Diane.
"Lord Rhyven, Lady Vanice's first son," Mira immediately whispered to her.
This meant he is Dravon's stepbrother. What does he have to do with Diane? She tried to choose between smiling at him and keeping a straight face. At the end, she chose none. She watched with him as he strode in a graceful but arrogant manner toward her and knew instantly that this person smelled of trouble.
Diane's stomach still felt sour from the blackcurrant juice she had at breakfast. She had guessed it was just grape juice and had drunk it even though she was allergic. She felt slightly nauseous now, and so having to deal with an overbearing in-law didn't sound palatable.
Just as he was a step away from her, he was crossed by another man, who looked to be younger than him; Diane imagined he'd be the same age as her.
The younger man started talking to Lord Rhyven about something as he pulled him away towards the center table and handed him a glass of wine. After which he locked eyes with Diane, and only then did she see him, his face, fully.
"Gorgeous" was not a word Diane used regularly, but this man staring at her was in every way gorgeous. Lord Lucas did not look bad actually; he was just averagely fine. But not this one guy, who looked so much like the strange man she'd met.
If not for the height difference, she would have mistaken them.
"Kaelion Kail, milady. His youngest brother"
He winked at Diane. Diane would swear he did wink at her, or was it her imagination? Has she been bewitched by the gorgeousness of a human and mistaken a simple look for a wink or an interest?
She had been so engrossed with the Kail brothers that she had not noticed until now how the air changed as soon as she entered the hall.
Eyes shifted to her at intervals as if she were the main topic of discussion within the smaller groups. Just at that moment, Lady Vanice re-entered gracefully. One would think she was the celebrant, only that she was undead.
Her dress, a sharp blue that contrasted with everything around her; the decoration, likewise the dark colors worn by the others. She looked around as if searching for someone. When her eyes fell on Diane, her expression didn't change a bit.
"Athea, you are late," she said with a tone that was so smooth it sounded almost polite. Almost.
"I came as soon as possible, your grace." Diane said as she walks to where she has taken the center at the large round table.
Diane thrust the basket of flowers towards her. She could hear murmuring in the background but had no time to pay them heed.
The duchess glanced at the bouquet. Expressionless.
"What is this?" She asked.
"A small gift, for all my mistakes, your grace." Diane replied without offering a smile.
The duchess took a second look at it and motioned for her servant, who took the basket and placed it on the table. She reached out and examined the flowers closely. Diane saw the shift in her eyes when she saw the purple thistles. She paused but said nothing.
"It's…thoughtful," she finally said with an expression that didn't match her words.
"You have a confident taste, Athea Lyselle." I suppose I should expect that much from someone raised in House Lyselle."
Diane held her gaze, not faltering under her scrutiny. The duchess motioned for her to take a seat, as every other person in the hall did the same. Diane looked over and noticed she was alone in the midst of unknown people. Mira was probably not really allowed at the table. She saw her as she smiled from the far end of the hall.
The duchess was now addressing the room, while Diane's mind wandered. She paid little attention to what was going on around her.
Suddenly there was a loud thud, and voices were suddenly high. Looking around, she found the cause of the commotion. A woman was sprawled as if lifeless on the marble floor. She was being pushed around by someone trying to wake her up as if to say she just fell asleep.
Diane swung into action before she could catch herself. She was now kneeling beside the woman as she took her pulse.
"Give me space," she shouted with a firm tone that startled everyone as they immediately backed away.
The woman's breathing was shallow; she must have fainted.
"Her heartbeat is steady," Diane said, relieved. "She just fainted." She imagined how dangerous it would have been if it were something more serious. It's not like she can perform a surgery in this remote world. Or would she have to one day?
She lifted the lady's chin gently to open her airways, then loosened the tight scarf around her collar.
"She needs airflow," Diane explained now keeping her voice level.