Harmonia Calendar 715, Thal 24 - Ashspire Estate, Elandor
Afternoon - Grand Hall
The sun shone through the painted windows, staining the stone in shades of red and grey. Yet the chandeliers above already burned with lightstones, their glow scattering across the hall.
Above, on the vaulted ceiling, a mural stretched wide.
The Ashspire banner painted in black and deep crimson, the crest stark and unyielding.
I stood at the high table and let my gaze sweep down.
The hall spread open, a polished floor gleaming like a mirror, left bare at its center for the dance.
Around it, the tables curved in a ring, silver trays of wine and sweets set neatly on top.
Columns flanked the edges, rising toward the painted ceiling, decorated with flowers and banners.
Servants moved between them.
Music drifted softly from behind the columns, just enough to smooth the air without drawing attention.
I stepped down from the high table.
My boots struck the stone with measured steps as I walked the line between tables, exchanging handshakes and greetings.
My mind drifted to last night.
'Favian's plan stands.'
The thought came, and I felt its weight.
One word from me and the plan falls.
Another, and it rises.
'Stop it now.'
My conscience whispered once.
I did not decide and instead made a bargain with myself.
'If the Duke is open for a match, I end it. If not, I let it run. A marriage tie is worth more than an heir. And a trained heir is worth more than a talented child.'
At the far end of the hall, a servant climbed the stairs.
He struck his staff against the stone.
Thud.
The sound broke my thoughts.
'He arrived.'
The servant's voice rang across the hall.
"His Grace, Grand Duke Evan Valmontis."
The name silenced the air.
Music stopped.
Conversations halted.
Bows fell like a wave as the doors swung wide.
The Grand Duke entered as though the hall already belonged to him.
His silver hair was slicked back, green eyes sharp and measuring. A white suit framed his broad build, every stitch a statement of wealth and order.
At his side walked Selene, white-gold hair, a pale dress, and blue-green eyes sweeping the hall.
I moved to greet them, my steps steady.
I bowed, voice smooth, controlled.
"Your Grace. Welcome to Ashspire."
***
Afternoon - Floor
The hall buzzed with voices, laughter weaving through the music that came from the hidden musicians.
I stayed at the edges where the crowd thinned.
Step by step, I worked the floor.
A bow here, a nod there. Compliments traded like coins. One safe joke. Two pieces of real talk.
A baron's son talked about tutors, and a merchant's daughter wished for a new dress.
One boy retold me the same joke he had tried last month.
I laughed again and hated myself for it.
I excused myself with a smile and let my steps drift toward the pastry tables.
Halfway there, my feet halted.
At the corner table, Theodora and Adonis had claimed their own small world.
He reached for a pastry, and she caught his wrist, but instead of scolding, she pressed it to his lips.
He tried to resist, but she made refusal impossible.
I rubbed at my temple, the ache kept growing.
'They are playing house again…'
I sighed and let my gaze drift behind them.
Across the hall toward the high table.
Father sat at its center, his face unreadable.
'I will be watching.'
***
Afternoon - Lady's Row
The row of cushioned chairs curved along the edge of the hall, reserved for noble ladies who preferred their gossip seated rather than standing.
I sat among them, posture straight, cup in my hands.
A lady to my right leaned closer, her voice warm.
"Your lace is lovely, my lady."
I smoothed the sleeve of my gown, forcing a smile to my lips.
"You are too kind. My daughter's hand is better than mine now."
We smiled, polite and shallow.
A few more words passed, names and pleasantries exchanged, but my throat felt tight.
Behind every word, I still heard Anton's voice.
Their voices blurred around me, and memory took over.
'The boy will take the blame.'
The way he hadn't looked at me when he said it.
The way his tone had been final.
I could not change his mind. I never could. And so, like always, I had walked away.
The only thing I seemed to know how to do.
My thoughts broke, and my gaze slipped past the ladies, past the pillars and the flow of servants.
I searched for him.
Adonis.
He stood with Theodora near the pastry table, his posture too stiff, chin tucked too low.
She reached up to correct him, tugging at his shoulders like a wife fussing over her husband.
The sight brought a small smile to my lips.
But it broke my heart just as quickly, knowing Anton would blame him, and I could do nothing to stop it.
My fingers tightened on the cup
'I am sorry, my dear.'
***
Afternoon - Pastry Table
The pastry table was near the eastern wall, silver trays stacked high with sugared fruits and sweet cakes.
I stood there with Adonis, a cup in his hand and crumbs at the corner of his mouth.
He thought he looked calm.
He didn't.
I nudged his arm, voice low.
"Stand straight. You lean when you drink."
He frowned, shifting his shoulders.
"I am not leaning."
A smirk tugged at my lips. My elbow pressed lightly against his side.
"You are. And keep the cup low. Don't grip it like a soldier."
He lowered the cup awkwardly.
I couldn't take it anymore and reached up without asking, tugging his collar straight, and when he tried to swat my hand away, I caught his cheek instead, brushing away the crumbs.
'Better.'
He gave up, letting my hands work, and muttered, eyes darting toward the nobles.
"What if I say something wrong?"
My hands fell back to my sides, chin lifting.
"Then I'll say something worse."
The words had just left me when a servant stepped close.
"Master Adonis. The Marquis requests you greet Lady Selene."
My smile stayed, but my stomach twisted. I forced a light tone.
"Go. Be boring."
He nodded his head.
"Yes, Dori."
Heat shot to my face. I hissed at him.
"Don't call me that."
He laughed and slipped away through the crowd, leaving me with the pastries and the ache in my chest.