As the conversation carried on, laughter rising easily between them, Orielle found herself drifting further from it.
"And then he said I miscounted the barrels!" Yinse exclaimed, throwing her hands up dramatically. "So I told him to climb into the cellar and balance the ledgers while they rolled over him!"
Pearl nearly choked on her tea, laughing. "You didn't!"
"Oh, I did," Yinse grinned proudly. "Even slammed the door for effect."
Anla shook her head, though a laugh slipped through anyway. "Only because you knew he'd never stay angry at you. That poor man adored you, and you humiliated him in front of the entire village."
Yinse scoffed, crossing her arms. "Well, he wouldn't take no for an answer. What was I supposed to do? I just… redirected his enthusiasm."
Primrose sighed softly, setting her cup aside. "That's why he avoids you at the market now."
"Good," Yinse muttered. "Who'd want to look at that ugly face anyway?"
Anla groaned. "Must you always judge people like that? He's actually quite considerate. Haven't you heard not to judge a book by its cover?"
Pearl tilted her head, amused. "If he couldn't take no for an answer… I'm not sure 'considerate' is the word I'd use."
Yinse lit up instantly. "Exactly!" She leaned back smugly. "Besides—a book has a cover for a reason. If it's not appealing, why would anyone bother reading it?"
Anla crossed her arms, clearly flustered. "Some books are worth reading regardless of the cover!"
Yinse watched her for a moment. Then a slow, knowing smile spread across her face. She leaned forward, in a load whisper meant to tease. "Then why don't you read his book, Annie?"
Anla froze. "…Wha—what nonsense are you saying?" she stammered, her cheeks flushing. "He likes you!" She quickly grabbed a pastry and stuffed it into her mouth, clearly hoping to end the conversation then and there.
Laughter erupted around the table. Even Pearl joined in, shaking her head. The conversation carried on, everyone enjoying the conversation.
Everyone, except Orielle.
Their voices felt distant now. Faint. Like she was sitting just slightly outside of it all. Her attention had shifted. To the edges of the pavilion. One maid arranged the cakes with before leaving again.
The other stood too still.
Her gaze flicked toward the garden archway, then away. Orielle reached for her teacup, the warmth usually comforting. She glanced across the table, and Pearl met her eyes.
At first, confusion flickered across her face, then she followed Orielle's gaze. Toward the guards, then toward the emptiness around them.
Pearl's expression sharpened instantly. Something has felt strange since the moment we got here... Orielle must feel it too. And why is it only Dante and Yida? Yes... Something isn't right.
A sound cut through the air, sharp but brief. Something between a screech and animal cry far in the distance… Then silence. Dante shifted immediately, his hand moving to the hilt of his blade as his gaze snapped toward the archway.
Yida followed a heartbeat later, her stance tightening, every line of her body alert. The sound had been easy to dismiss. A bird. An animal. Something distant. Orielle felt uneasy not because of the sound at first but because she saw their reaction to it.
Slowly, she set her teacup down. Then she gave a polite and composed smile. "It's grown late," she said gently. "And I've grown a bit tired, I'm sorry we'll have to end this so soon." She took a breath to keep herself composed. "And I wouldn't want you traveling home in the dark."
Her friends blinked, surprised— but not too suspicious. Anla stood first. "Of course," she said warmly, stepping forward to hug her. "It was lovely to see you again. You must write to us please."
Orielle let out a soft laugh, returning the embrace. "I'll write soon—I promise. I've missed you all so much."
Yinse snatched one last pastry from the table. "As long as you send the recipe in your letters I'll be so pleased!" she said, already chewing.
Primrose smiled faintly, staying quiet as she gathered her things. The three of them began to leave, the two maids falling in step behind them.
Orielle and Pearl walked with them towards the edge of the garden. At the archway, Primrose paused, she turned back and her gaze found Orielle's.
Something unreadable flickered there. "Take care," she said softly. "The air feels… strange today." A small hesitation. "Please stay safe."
Orielle's breath caught. But before she could respond, Primrose turned and followed the others, disappearing beyond the archway.
Orielle's gaze snapped to Pearl's. Her practised smile no longer there. Only concern, concern for whatever was wrong in the palace.
"All right," Pearl muttered, already moving. " What in the gods' names is going on here?"
Orielle followed quickly, her shoes scraping harshly against the stone. "I don't know... Where are the rest of the staff?" she asked, her voice tight. "There should be far more people here. And I haven't seen the head attendant since this morning…"
Orielle's breath caught slightly. "And Tirian didn't come," she added, quieter now. "He said he would."
Her eyes flicked toward the archway where Sir Dante and Dame Yida stood, both rigid, both alert.
"…Something's wrong." Pearl exhaled sharply, already on edge. "And here I thought tea parties were meant to be relaxing." She moved faster, straight toward the knights with Orielle close behind her.
"What's going on?" Pearl demanded. "You've both been acting strange all day."
Sir Dante and DameYida exchanged a look. Sir Dante's jaw tightened. "There was… an incident this morning."
Pearl didn't slow, closing the distance between them until she stood far too close for comfort, her eyes locked onto his. "What kind of incident?"
Dante didn't answer. Yida stepped in, her voice quieter—but steady. "Someone attempted to poison the tea."
Silence.
The words seemed to hang in the air. Orielle's breath hitched. Her gaze moved slowly to the teacup she had been drinking from across the garden.
Pearl blinked, disbelief flashing across her face. "What—how?"
But neither knight answered. They had already said too much.
Pearl's patience snapped. "Where is Tirian?"
Dame Yida hesitated. "The king dealt with the situation personally… but he didn't remain in the kitchens long." she paused for a moment, unsure if she should say anything more. "We don't know where the king is now."
"You don't know?" Orielle's voice trembled despite herself. Fear crept input she tried her best to remain calm.
She turned quickly to Pearl. "I'll check his study," she said, already moving. "He might be there. Pearl—go to the kitchens. Take someone with you."
Pearl nodded immediately. "One maid each. Send word if you find him!"
Dante stepped forward, alarm breaking through. "My lady, you cannot—this isn't safe until we—"
Orielle cut him off, her voice firm now—no hesitation. "If there's danger, then standing still is worse." Her gaze hardened. "Sir Dante, you're with me. Dame Yida—you go with Pearl."
She took a breath, frustration slipping through. "I don't understand why the tea continued at all if something like this happened. Why was I not told?"
Dame Yida swallowed. "The king gave orders," she said carefully. "You were not to be disturbed. He dismissed all servants not personally selected… and left only us to guard you."
Orielle stilled. Her expression shifted as she looked toward the path her friends had taken. Then back to Yida, stepping closer, her voice soft—but urgent. "Please," she said, gripping her hand. "Take me to him. I need to know he's safe."
The knights hesitated at first then both bowed. "As you command." They split quickly.
The warmth of the pavilion faded the moment Orielle stepped beyond it following behind Sir Dante.
The palace felt wrong. Maids hurried past, their steps rushed, heads lowered. A pair of knights ran down a corridor ahead, not even stopping to acknowledge her.
Then Orielle paused. Her nose wrinkled slightly. "…Smoke?" A faint scent burning and her heart skipped. "Is something on fire…?"
Distant shouting followed, faint but growing louder as they neared the courtyard in front of the throne room. Her pulse surged. Without thinking, she lifted her skirt and ran.
"My lady—wait!" Sir Dante called, boots striking hard against the stone as he followed.
They turned the corner and everything changed. The corridor opened before them was nothing the like the view of the courtyard she's remembered .
Bodies. Scattered everywhereWhether it be servants, maids even knights, some still in half-fastened armor. Blood streaked the floor in dark smears, the sharp scent of iron mixing with smoke in the air.
Orielle stopped cold. Her breath caught. "…By the stars…" Sir Dante moved instantly, stepping in front of her, his sword half-drawn, body shielding hers.
A figure burst through the haze ahead—
Armor flashing blue and silver. DamePeinn. Her purple hair was matted with blood, her face smeared with dirt and ash, breath uneven.
She skidded to a halt at the sight of them. "Sir Dante—" she gasped, relief flooding her expression. "Thank the gods—"
"What happened?" Sir Dante demanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.
Dame Peinn steadied herself, breath still uneven, her dented armor catching what little light filtered through the smoke. "Traitors," she said, swallowing hard. "From Varakor's fallen kingdom. They'd been hiding among the staff."
Her jaw tightened. "They were the ones who poisoned the tea."
Orielle's heart dropped. "But we—we drank it," she said, her voice unsteady.
Peinn shook her head quickly. "No, my lady. The king knew. He stopped it before it ever reached you."
Orielle blinked. "How?" she whispered.
Peinn hesitated. "I… don't know," she admitted. "But he found out…" Her expression shifted—something between fear and disbelief. "He didn't hesitate. this morning he sent every knight to seize the staff. He had names. Lists."
Dante's brow furrowed. "Lists…?" Peinn nodded faintly. "He knew exactly who they were."
Orielle's chest tightened.
"And now?" Dante pressed.
Peinn's gaze flicked toward the throne room doors at the end of the corridor. "He dealt with most of them," she said quietly. "He... he made sure every one on the list was killed... except one."
"One?" Dante asked.
Peinn's voice dropped. "There's one left." she looked down, obviously distraught. "He's inside." Silence settled—heavy, suffocating.
"The king…" Peinn continued, her voice strained, "he's going to kill him."
Her eyes closed, like she was holding back tears. "And none of us have the right to stop him."
Orielle's throat tightened. "Tirian…" she whispered. Her gaze fixed on the throne room doors. "Who…?" But she didn't wait for an answer.
She moved. One step. Then another. Drawn forward.
Peinn stepped in front of her quickly, raising a hand. "My lady—he gave orders. No one enters until he's finished."
Dante stepped forward as well. "My queen, wait—this could be—"
Orielle shook her head. "No." Her voice wasn't loud. But it didn't waver. She looked past them straight at the doors. "I'm done waiting."
Before either of them could react, She pushed past Peinn and broke into a run.
"My lady—!" Dante called, immediately following. But Peinn gripped his elbow... "We... we can't." Dante looked at Peinn frustrated, then he looked towards the running queen. "The king ordered me to protect her, I'll do so even if I break one command to obey another." He ran after Orielle.
The great doors loomed ahead, slightly ajar, but not enough t see through. Orielle reached the doors, and paused, taking a deep breath first then forced them open.