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[sub][color=7F6B5D]C A S T L E   D I N N I N G   H A L L  |  E V E N I N G[/color][/sub]
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M e n t i o n s :[/color][/sub]
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[color=dd9562]“My beautiful girl. Are you ready to go?” [/color]

The words sounded sweet behind the blanket of haze that had settled in Zarai’s mind.

[color=dd9562]“Come here, mija.” [/color]

Not waiting for her mother to repeat herself, Zarai stepped into the study.

The room was vast, warmed by the soft candlelight and heavy with the scent of ink and old parchment, with a hint of her mother’s perfume. Jasmine and gardenia blooming thick in the air, cloying in their richness. And pomegranate. Rich in sweetness, ripened past its prime, lingering at the edges like a secret left too long to fester. Plush carpets in deep reds and blues and purples swallowed the sound of her steps as she moved toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. Francesca stood there, silhouetted against the evening light filtering through the windows, a crystal glass of wine poised elegantly between her fingers. 

[color=dd9562]“Did you enjoy the gallery today?” [/color]

Zarai stiffened as her mother reached up, her fingers tucking a loose strand of curled hair behind her ear. It was a soft, gentle gesture—a motherly one—and Zarai had learned long ago not to flinch. 

[color=93a477]“It was lovely,”[/color] Zarai replied, keeping her voice light, careful. [color=93a477]“Milo St. Claire’s pieces were incredible. His brushwork is one of envy.”[/color] 

Francesca hummed, tilting her head in approval. [color=dd9562]“Art is a language, mija. One of grace and restraint.”[/color] She smiled, the corners of her mouth curling like an artist’s signature at the edge of one of Zarai’s paintings. [color=dd9562]“You must learn to speak it fluently.”[/color] 

Zarai nodded, easily matching the warmth of her mother’s expression. 

Moments like these were rare. So fragile that even a breath too strong could shatter them. She had learned to hold them delicately, to pretend, if only for a moment, that this was all their relationship had ever been. Warmth. Praise. Soft hands adjusting an errant strand of hair instead of wielding a cane. 

She could almost believe it. 

Then—

[color=dd9562]“But I supposed subtlety has never been your strength.”[/color]

[color=1f1e1e]… Roll…[/color]

The words slid into her skin like the bite of winter air that no haze could ever shield against. A chill, sharp and cutting, slicing through the illusion just as quickly as it had been constructed.

Zarai inhaled slowly, willing the sting away. Higher. Zarai must go higher. 

[color=93a477]“I—”[/color]

[color=dd9562]“You must be more mindful, Zarai.”[/color] Francesca swirled the wine in her glass, her voice deceptively calm as the surface of a frozen lake hiding the currents beneath. [color=dd9562]“I hear things, you know. Whispers. Little birds.” [/color]

Clouds. She could feel clouds all around her. So soft. So light. So gentle.

Francesca twirled a curl of rosy gold in her slender finger, their icy blue gazes meeting. [color=dd9562]“Tell me, my beautiful girl,”[/color] she said, her voice smooth, still warm but laced now with something familiar beneath—something cold. [color=dd9562]“Why do you insist on making things so difficult for yourself?”[/color] 

And just like that, the moment was gone.

[color=1f1e1e]… Rattle…[/color]

[color=93a477][center]『 °*• ❀ •*°』[/center][/color]

[color=93a477]“Sir Barrios, why does it look like you are about to storm the Sorian fortress?”[/color] Zarai drawled, her voice lifting with amusement. [color=93a477]“Relax. It’s only a banquet, not an execution.”[/color] She glanced down as his hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. [color=93a477]“Shall I share some of my magical concoction with you, my knight?”[/color] 

Sir Barrios’s eyes flickered toward her. His expression was unreadable behind the nice, cozy blanket of the drug. Her lips pulled and curled into an easy smile, far too relaxed.

[color=7195AA]“Your definition of relaxation tends to involve scandalizing half the nobility in attendance.”[/color] Sir Barrios glanced down at her with another retort, but it fell short as soon as he saw that smile on her face. 

[color=7195AA]“Gods, Lady Zarai, are you high right now?!”[/color] He hissed quietly, looking over his shoulder to ensure no royal guard heard him. 

Zarai laughed, as sharp and unapologetic as the clink of her jeweled heels against the marble floor. [color=93a477]“Oh, come now, Sir Barrios. Where’s your sense of adventure? Or did you leave it behind with your sense of humor?”[/color]

[color=7195AA]“I left it behind,”[/color] he replied dryly, [color=7195AA]“when I was assigned to escort you.”[/color]

She grinned, leaning in just close enough to make him stiffen and shut up. [color=93a477]“Admit it. You’d be bored without me.”[/color] 

Before he could retort, the doors swung open with a dramatic flourish, and the herald’s voice boomed across the hall. [color=lightgray]“Announcing Lady Zarai Lesdeman of Puerto Vira!”[/color]

As they reached the center of the room, both bowed to the King and Queen. 

Fingers brushed over the delicate layers of her dress as Zarai lifted her arms slightly, sinking into a flawless curtsy. Head bowed, eyes lowered, smile poised—the perfect display of grace, fitting for a future duchess. She rose with the same practiced ease, turning smoothly to make her way towards her seat, Sir Barrios trailing just behind her. 

With her one duty for the evening now complete, she wasted no time in seeking out her assigned seat—though, much to his dismay, Sir Barrios had to steer her in the right direction. Her focus had already strayed, drawn to the grand feast already spread across the tables. She hadn’t eaten since morning, and with the effects of the drug humming through her veins, she could eat that whole roasted pig lying atop the table. 










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