Chapter 71
"Florence," Millicent said, her unreadable expression softened.
This woman was Marchioness Florence Lorynthall, a married lady, and the rumored mistress of Millicent. I had seen her likeness in the papers many times and it seemed the rumors were not without truth.
She seated herself beside Millicent with elegant ease and turned her smile upon me. "Welcome, Lady Naevia. I am Marchioness Florence Lorynthall. Pray forgive my absence upon your arrival. I had not the opportunity to greet you as I ought. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."
"Drop the act, blindy," Yseldra said with disarming ease.
"Damn it, poison potion," Florence replied, and all the grace she had worn a moment prior vanished as she leaned back in her chair, arms folded. "I was making the effort to be pleasant, unlike you."
"How was your vacation?" Millicent asked, her tone gentle.
"It was no vacation," Florence responded. "Vincent spent his time courting every pretty woman he laid eyes upon. I was forced to offer apologies to a noble couple on his behalf."
Millicent let out a soft chuckle. "My apologies, dearest. I ought to have prevented him from accompanying you." She reached to tuck a strand of white hair behind Florence's ear, then cast a glance toward me. "Lady Naevia and Yseldra have a daughter together."
"Those with swords are entirely too libidinous," Florence remarked.
I looked at her in quiet confusion. She met my gaze with a knowing smirk.
"Cocks."
I choked upon my own breath. Such bluntness was beyond all decorum. To speak so before a guest left me momentarily at a loss.
"Oh, Naevia," she went on, "Were I in your place, I would have bestowed a succession of most righteous heavenly slaps upon poison potion's face. That would be the truest form of divine punishment."
Yseldra withdrew from me and struck the table with her hand. "Spoken by a woman still bound in marriage to a man!"
"That is hardly my fault! Kyle refuses to grant me a divorce!"
"You are, in truth, being unfaithful to him!"
"Oh, be silent! At least I do not torment him as you once did Naevia!"
"Bloody hell, I have paid for that, have I not? Did you never consider matters from my perspective?! And if we are to compare, I speak my truths openly, unlike you, who festers in silence at every noble gathering!"
Their voices rose, one over the other, until the exchange descended into utter disorder. I remained still, uncertain whether to stay or take my leave.
Millicent rose from her seat and came to me. "Walk with me," she said with a smile. "Those two shall occupy themselves for some time."
I followed her within. Through the window, Florence now stood, her finger pointed at Yseldra as her lips moved without pause. Yseldra remained seated, yet she answered in equal fervor. It resembled a battlefield, though their weapons were words alone.
"Do they quarrel often?" I asked as we departed the drawing room.
"Often," Millicent replied with quiet ease. "Worry not. Yseldra spends far more time in Florence's company than in mine. Florence possesses a rather spirited inclination toward violence, and thus Yseldra has, over the years, taken it upon herself to instruct her in the wielding of a blade. They spar upon the training grounds with notable frequency. They are… in their own peculiar fashion, rather good friends."
"Did Yseldra address Her Ladyship as… blindy?"
"Florence has no sight in her left eye."
At once, regret touched me. "Ah… I ought not to have asked. Pray forgive me."
"There is no need, Lady Naevia."
"…Then, if I may, did she refer to Yseldra as… poison potion?"
"Indeed. Florence has insulting names for all she knows. I am not spared."
I found myself without a fitting reply and chose silence instead.
"Oh my," a young boy approached, red eyes bright beneath a crown of white hair. He knelt before me with startling boldness. "Heavenly beauty, from whence have you appeared?"
Vincent Vaneeri. The heir. A child of ten.
Millicent brought a hand to her brow. "Vincent, rise at once before Yseldra sets her sights upon you. Stand and greet Lady Naevia properly."
He complied, though with some reluctance, then offered a most gentlemanly bow, extending his hand toward me. "It is my honor to meet you at last, Lady Naevia of House Ashcroft. I am Vincent Vaneeri, heir to House Vaneeri."
I placed my hand in his awkwardly and he pressed a light kiss upon my knuckle.
"The honor is mine, Lord Vaneeri."
He withdrew his hand with some unwillingness and stood upright. The more I looked, the more one matter troubled my thoughts. His hair bore the same pure white as Florence's, whilst his eyes were crimson, so alike to Millicent's. He was said to be Millicent's child, and yet he carried the marks of them both.
Could they be as Yseldra and I are?
"Pardon?!" Florence's voice rang out from behind us, drawing every gaze.
Yseldra advanced toward me in swift strides, with Florence in pursuit.
"Are you truly ignoring me?" Florence demanded, her irritation laid bare.
"You are insufferable," Yseldra replied without pause. "Who would willingly endure another moment alone with you?"
"My queen!" Vincent's voice brightened at once.
Their voices faded from my notice, for my gaze was drawn to a little girl approaching with a maid. I knew her. She, too, had been the subject of many papers. She resembled Florence entirely, with that same white hair and those striking violet eyes.
Alice Vaneeri. Millicent's second child.
She hurried past me and joined the tumult, her laughter rising amidst the clashing voices. Though Yseldra and Florence exchanged insults without restraint, the children laughed as though it were all a game, and Millicent stood amidst it with a quiet resignation, a soft smile resting upon her lips.
Yseldra stood among them as though she belonged, and the scene, for all its disorder, felt strangely warm.
I could have this. With Yseldra and Aelunira. We could be such a family. No, we already were.
Alethea may be gone, yet it was she who brought me to Ivoryspire, the place that drew my heart from its former darkness. One day, I hoped I might address Millicent and her loved ones by their direct names, and stand among them with the same ease Yseldra possessed.
And yet… my life did not feel whole. There was someone absent, someone I could not set aside. When I returned, I would write to her. I wished for this warmth to reach her as well.