Chapter 72: The Tea Room
The grand sitting room reserved for the noble daughters was a study in restrained elegance.
High ceilings painted with scenes of courtly life. Windows draped in heavy silk that filtered the afternoon light into a soft, honeyed glow. Comfortable furniture arranged in conversational groupings. A long table laden with tea service, pastries, small delicacies meant for the idle afternoon hours of idle women.
It should have been pleasant.
It should have been the kind of space where young noblewomen could relax, gossip, and prepare themselves mentally for the evening’s formal obligations. It should have been a place of lightness and feminine ease.
Instead, it felt heavy. Oppressive. Like a room where the air itself had turned thick with worry.
Three days had passed since the incident in the training grounds.
Three days of whispered rumors, conflicting stories, official silence, and the gradual erosion of certainty until no one really knew what had happened, only that something had happened that was significant enough to close the training grounds entirely and forbid anyone from speaking about it.
Lady Seraphine sat near the window, ostensibly working on her embroidery, but her needle moved without purpose. The stitches were uneven, careless, the work of someone whose mind was entirely elsewhere. She stared out the window at the palace gardens beyond, but she saw nothing of the beauty there.
Beside her, Lady Vivienne was reading....or rather, she was holding a book and occasionally turning a page without actually absorbing a single word of text. Her sharp eyes moved over the words mechanically, while her mind worked through the implications of everything she’d heard and everything she’d guessed.
Lady Celeste, the youngest of the daughters, sat with two other young women, and they were attempting to play a game of cards. But the game had ground to a halt sometime in the last hour. The cards lay scattered on the table between them, forgotten. The three girls simply sat in silence, occasionally picking up their cards and putting them down again, their minds clearly occupied with darker thoughts.
The other noble daughters were scattered throughout the room in various states of distraction. Some embroidered. Some read. Some simply sat and stared at nothing, lost in their own thoughts.
The energy of the room was completely transformed from what it had been when the Selection began.
Gone was the hopeful excitement. Gone was the careful competition and the subtle jockeying for position. In its place was anxiety, uncertainty, and a creeping sense that something fundamental had shifted in the palace, and none of them understood what.
Lady Isolde sat somewhat apart from the others, positioned in a high-backed chair near the fireplace. She was dressed immaculately, as always, in a pale blue gown that seemed to glow in the afternoon light. Her blonde hair was perfectly arranged. Her posture was perfect.
But her eyes...her pale blue eyes, were distant. Preoccupied. As if her mind was not in this room at all, but was focused on something far more complicated and troubling.
She hadn’t been sleeping well. Anyone observing her carefully would have noticed the faint shadows beneath her eyes, the way she sometimes caught herself staring into space, the subtle tension that seemed to radiate from her.
But most of the other daughters were too wrapped up in their own concerns to observe Isolde carefully.
The silence stretched, heavy and uncomfortable.
Then Celeste spoke.
"Has anyone actually heard what happened?" Celeste asked, her young voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. "At the training grounds, I mean. The official story?"
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Several of the other daughters looked up from their various occupations. Seraphine’s embroidery needle stilled. Vivienne’s eyes lifted from her book. Even Isolde’s distant gaze sharpened slightly.
"There is no official story," Vivienne said, her tone matter-of-fact. "That’s what makes it so troubling. If something significant had happened, the palace would have released an explanation by now. The fact that there has been nothing but silence suggests they’re hiding something."
"Or they don’t want us talking about it," suggested one of the older daughters, a woman named Lady Margaret. "The guards have been very clear, no one is to discuss what happened."
"But something did happen," Celeste persisted. "Everyone agrees on that much. The training grounds were damaged. There’s been talk of fires, of destruction. People saw something."
"People see what they want to see," Vivienne said coolly. "Especially when there’s a mystery to unravel. Give people a secret, and they’ll create a hundred different stories to explain it."
But even as she said this, Vivienne’s eyes had sharpened with interest. She wanted to know too. They all did.
Seraphine finally set down her embroidery and turned to face the room more directly. "I heard," she said slowly, "that one of the warriors was injured. Seriously injured. That there was some kind of... accident during training."
"An accident?" Celeste’s eyes widened. "With whom?"
"I don’t know," Seraphine admitted. "The details were vague. But the person who told me seemed to think it was significant. Significant enough that the palace has completely closed off the training grounds."
"I heard something else," one of the quieter daughters offered hesitantly. Her name was Lady Eleanor, and she was not usually outspoken. "I heard that the kings themselves were training. That all three of them were involved in whatever happened."
This created a stir. Several of the other daughters sat up straighter, their attention sharpening.
"All three kings?" Margaret repeated. "That seems unlikely. The kings don’t usually train together."
"That’s what I heard," Eleanor said defensively. "I don’t know if it’s true. I’m just saying what I heard from one of the servants."
The room erupted into a low murmur of speculation.
Isolde remained silent, watching and listening.
***
Celeste leaned forward, drawing the attention of those nearest to her. When she spoke, her voice was lower, more conspiratorial, as if she was about to share something dangerous.
"I heard something more than that," she said, and her young face carried a mixture of excitement and fear. "Something that was told to me by one of the servants. She was sworn to secrecy, and she only told me because she trusts me, but..."
She paused for effect, looking around the room to ensure she had everyone’s attention.
"But what?" Seraphine prompted.
"But I heard that one of the kings lost control," Celeste said, the words coming out in a rush. "Completely lost control. During training, he... he transformed. Into his dragon form. And he couldn’t stop. Couldn’t regain control. He was destroying everything."