In the quiet chambers of her mansion, Lethia stood before the tall mirror as the soft glow of morning light slipped through the velvet drapes. Her dark brown hair fell in smooth waves down her back, catching faint hints of amber beneath the light, while her hazel eyes reflected a calm yet distant composure. Behind her, her maid Elira moved with gentle precision, fastening the final pins into Lethia's hair.
"Hold still, my lady," Elira murmured softly, smoothing the folds of her gown.
The dress Lethia wore was modest, yet undeniably elegant fine fabric, carefully tailored, free of excessive ornament or glittering jewels. It carried a quiet grace, much like its wearer; refined, composed, and untouched by vanity. Lethia glanced once more at her reflection, her expression unreadable, as if her thoughts lay far beyond the walls of the mansion.
With a quiet breath, Lethia turned from the mirror and stepped out of her chamber, Elira following a pace behind. The corridors of the mansion lay calm and orderly, their polished floors reflecting the soft glow of chandeliers above. Without haste, Lethia made her way toward the grand staircase, her composed steps echoing faintly in the stillness.
She descended gracefully, one hand lightly resting upon the carved banister. At the foot of the stairs stood Marven, the aged steward of the household, his posture straight despite his age. He bowed deeply as she approached.
"My Lady," he said with gentle concern, "I pray your journey to the Duchy is a safe one. His Grace, has given strict orders for your comfort and protection. Please take utmost care."
Lethia inclined her head silently in acknowledgment.
Unlike many noble estates, her mansion was vast yet quiet. Lethia had never favored crowds or needless commotion. Only a handful of trusted servants resided within Marven, a few main attendants, her devoted maid Elira, and ni her lady-in-waiting Serena Valmont, the poised daughter of a Baron, who now stepped forward to join her. Beyond them, several loyal knights stood stationed within the estate, ever watchful.
Outside, the carriage awaited beneath the pale morning sky. Beside it stood Ciro, Lethia's personal knight, tall and steadfast, already prepared for departure. The moment Lethia approached, he stepped forward and offered his hand.
"My Lady."
Lethia placed her gloved hand lightly in his, stepping into the carriage with quiet elegance. Soon after, Serena and Elira joined her inside, and with a soft command from Ciro, the carriage doors closed the journey toward the Duchy had begun.
Within the gentle sway of the moving carriage, silence lingered for a time, broken only by the distant rhythm of hooves upon the road. Soft daylight filtered through the curtained window, casting a muted glow across the interior.
Serena sat opposite her, watching quietly, before finally speaking.
"Lethia… why do you suppose His Grace has summoned you so suddenly?"
Lethia's gaze remained fixed upon the passing blur beyond the window, her expression calm, almost indifferent.
"Most likely," she replied evenly, "it concerns an engagement. Grandfather has been pressing the matter for months now."
Serena straightened slightly, curiosity flickering across her face.
"And with whom?"
A faint pause followed before Lethia answered, her voice steady and unconcerned.
"The most probable choice would be the son of Marquess Valehart."
Serena blinked, surprised.
"But… the Marquess's son is said to favor Lady Elowen, is he not?"
At this, Lethia finally turned her gaze toward her — composed, confident, and quietly assured.
"Do not trouble yourself," she said. "So long as I do not wish it to happen… it will not."
For a brief moment, silence passed then Serena smiled softly, a knowing warmth in her eyes.
"Yes," she said lightly, "no one surpasses you when it comes to finding your way out of unwanted circumstances."
Serena's smile turned slightly playful.
"Though I must say," she added, "it would be quite amusing to see Lady Elowen's reaction. She is likely in tears at this very moment."
A faint smile touched Lethia's lips.
"It is rather strange," she said quietly, "that even after what happened five years ago, someone would still consider such an engagement. Though… it is understandable. Marquess Valehart has long been a close friend of Grandfather."
As her words faded, a heavy stillness settled within the carriage. The earlier ease vanished, replaced by a quiet, unspoken weight.
"My Lady… you must not speak of yourself in such a way. What happened was not your fault, " said Elira with urgency.
Serena nodded firmly, her voice warm yet resolute.
"Indeed. Nothing that occurred has diminished your worth in the slightest. In my eyes, Lethia… you remain the most capable lady in the entire Empire."
For a brief moment, Lethia said nothing.
Then she smiled...softly, yet truly.
For what had happened five years ago had not merely altered the course of her life it had quietly shattered the world she once knew as a young girl.
***
Evening had descended gently upon the Duchy of Imerthia.
Within the grand yet solemn study of the ducal mansion, a warm fire burned low in the hearth, its glow casting long shadows across the high walls. Duke Julius Lorvil stood near the tall window, hands clasped behind his back, his expression grave. Opposite him stood his son, Sebastian, troubled yet resolute.
"Father," Sebastian spoke at last, his voice controlled but firm, "Elowen holds affection for Lord Hael. And if Lord Hael returns those feelings… then this engagement cannot be called fair."
Julius did not turn immediately. His gaze remained fixed upon the darkening horizon beyond the glass.
"I will not cast aside such a worthy alliance for Lethia," he said slowly, "for what may well be nothing more than youthful attachment."
Sebastian's jaw tightened, but he remained silent.
After a pause, Julius continued, his voice heavier now.
"You know as well as I do, Sebastian… after what occurred five years ago, securing a respectable match for Lethia has not been easy. Opportunities such as this do not come twice. And there is no family more suitable than Valehart."
It was the truth a painful one.
In a time where a lady's honor defined her future, Lethia had lost hers long ago… and with it, much of the life once promised to her.
Sebastian lowered his gaze, sorrow clouding his expression.
"I, too, worry for Lethia," he said quietly. "But one cannot mend one wrong by committing another. Elowen's heart is not a small matter."
Julius turned, about to speak...but the door opened softly... gathering their attention.
Standing at the threshold was Elowen.
She had clearly been there for some time, silently listening.
Her soft chestnut hair fell loosely over her shoulders, slightly disheveled, and her pale blue eyes red and glistening betrayed the tears she had tried so hard to hide. Yet despite her fragile state, she stepped forward with quiet composure.
"Father… Grandfather…" she spoke gently.
Sebastian's expression faltered.
"Elowen..."
But she shook her head faintly and continued.
"I hold no objection to this engagement."
Her voice trembled, yet she forced a small, sincere smile.
"Grandfather is right. For sister Lethia there may never come a better chance than this."
The room fell silent.
Julius's stern composure softened, sorrow touching his aged eyes. Sebastian turned away slightly, shaking his head, unable to speak.
Then Julius stepped forward and gathered Elowen into his arms.
The moment his embrace closed around her, the strength she had held so tightly shattered.
Elowen clutched him, and the tears she had fought to contain finally broke free.
Quiet, helpless sobs filled the room not loud, not dramatic, but deep… and painfully unbearable.
And in that moment, none of them spoke.
***
Dusk had nearly faded into night when Lethia's carriage finally arrived at the Duchy of Imerthia. The great estate stood quiet beneath the deepening sky, its tall windows glowing faintly with lamplight. Without ceremony, Lethia withdrew to the chamber that had once been hers unchanged, familiar, and heavy with memories.
Now seated within her old room, she rested in composed silence while a maid of Elowen stood respectfully before her, recounting the events of the evening. Serena remained nearby, and Elira quietly arranged light refreshments upon a small table.
"My Lady," the maid said gently, "Lady Elowen was greatly distressed… yet she raised no objection to the engagement. She insisted His Grace's decision was right, though it has caused her much sorrow."
Lethia listened without interruption, her expression calm almost detached. When the maid finished, Lethia exhaled faintly, a trace of dry amusement in her voice.
"All this… over such a small matter," she said lightly. "One would think the world had come to an end."
Serena hid a faint smile, already accustomed to Lethia's manner.
Lethia then spoke more gently, "Tell Elowen I shall speak with her tomorrow after I have met Grandfather."
The maid bowed. "Yes, My Lady."
And with that, she quietly withdrew.
Silence returned to the room.
Elira finished setting the tray delicate porcelain, warm bread, and tea before stepping back. Serena seated herself upon the sofa and lifted the teacup, while Lethia moved toward the tall window, gazing out into the darkening night.
After a moment, Serena spoke softly.
"It will not be easy to persuade His Grace. When he resolves upon something… he does not turn from it."
Lethia did not look back.
"We shall find a way," she replied calmly.
Serena took a small sip of tea, thoughtful, while Lethia remained by the window, unmoving. Tea had never been to her liking and tonight, her mind was far from such simple comforts.
No matter what Lethia did, she could never escape the shadows of her past. Even those who loved her... quietly feared that she might never secure a worthy match, as though fate had left her with no choice of her own.