“Please don’t lie down on the ground like that, my lord. It isn’t proper.”

Celestine smiled behind her book. Looking up, she was greeted by the amusing sight of Silas stretched across the grass, a forearm draped across his face to block out the afternoon sun. Following decorum has never been her brother’s strong suit, but she supposed it was Lucille’s training as a lady’s maid that made it hard for her to overlook such behavior.

“It’s just us here, Luce. No one will know.” Silas yawned.

Lucille sighed but continued her embroidery instead of pressing the matter further. Using a golden thread, she stitched one of the ornate swirls around the letter ’T’ in the corner of a silken handkerchief. 

“Are you giving that to Theo for good luck? When is he taking the Rite of Knighthood?” Celestine asked, and saw, just as she expected, a lovely shade of pink bloom on Lucille’s cheeks at the mention of her fiancé. Only Theo could inspire such a side from her strait-laced friend.

“There should be a local recruitment three months from now. He’s been busy training on top of his regular duties at the farm, so I’ve been worried about his health.” Lucille said. “I hope he makes sure to drink ginger tea everyday as I recommended. It should help with his immunity, although he complains that it tastes like spiced feet.”

Celestine giggled. “What? Spiced feet?”

“I have no idea where he gets such nonsense.” Lucille’s tone was chiding, but her blush and the upward curve of her mouth betrayed her mirth. “I suppose ginger tea isn’t the most palatable beverage, but all the knights in our village swear by it, so it should be helpful.”

“Well, maybe you should take it, too, Silas. That should help you when you take the Rite next year.”

Silas made a face of disgust. “Spiced feet tea sounds as appealing as the thought of doing somersaults over a cauldron of molten lava. No, thank you, my dear Celestine.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t you want to improve your stamina? Maybe you could even beat Vinias if you drink that consistently.”

“Oh, no, no, no. I invoke my right as the older sibling, and will thus proceed to change the subject.” Silas rolled to his side and propped his head with one hand. “Ah, I know, when is the wedding, Luce?”

The new topic almost made Lucille poke herself with the needle. She placed it and the handkerchief on the ground. Blushing furiously, she replied, “If everything goes well, we should get married a month after he becomes a knight.”

“When everything goes well, you mean,” Celestine corrected, taking Lucille’s hand in hers and giving it an affectionate squeeze. The details about the Rite of Knighthood were kept a close secret within the Order, but what was certain was that there could only be two results from it—survival, which would formally elevate any man into a knight, gifting him a considerable monthly income, a small plot of land, and the license to perform alchemy…

Or death.

According to the Order, the probability of the latter occurring was very small, though—a detail which Celestine has often used to console herself ever since Silas mentioned his ambition to become a knight.

Releasing a small sigh, Lucille squeezed back. “You’re right, my lady. When everything goes well.”

“I’m sure it will be fine, Luce.” Silas flashed a comforting smile. “That’s just around four months from now. Are you excited? You can finally retire from all of this and be mistress of your own property.”

Celestine felt a stab of pain at Silas’s words. The thought of losing Lucille has been hanging over her head ever since the betrothal months ago, but she was determined not to dampen her friend’s happiness because of it. She forced a small grin. “I can imagine you running your household like clockwork. Theo’s lucky to have such a capable wife.”

“I’m not his wife yet, my lady,” Lucille protested weakly, lowering her eyes shyly. “But yes, I’m excited. Although I’m also worried. It’s… a big responsibility. I just hope I’m ready.”

“What? Come on, don’t sell yourself so short, Luce.”

“Yes, it’s all because of you that Silas and I haven’t gotten into too much trouble over the years. I’m sure managing a household would be easy compared to distracting Mrs. Wicks whenever we would sneak out.”

Lucille laughed at this. She rarely did so, but when she did let it happen, it gave her this glow that made her green eyes glimmer on her lovely face. Celestine could easily understand how Theo had fallen for her friend. 

“Oh, yes,” Lucille said, composing herself. “Nothing could ever compare to the level of fear one would get from facing an inquisitive Mrs. Wicks. I do believe such occurrences have shed off years from my lifespan.”

“Looking directly at Wicks does have that effect,” Silas quipped. “But seriously, Luce, no one can ever be ready for the future. Heck, look at me, I could barely hold my own in a sword fight—a mock one, at that—but I’m still determined to become a knight by next fall.”

“A mock fight against the strongest fighter in Aurelia, my lord. Even Lord Marcus hasn’t beaten Sir Vinias yet.” Lucille replied. “I’ve seen you fight many times, and you’re quite talented. Now it’s you who’s selling yourself short.”

“Okay, fine, I could probably survive a few minutes in the battlefield. But still, I’m nowhere near where I want to be. But you know what? I’m not going to let that stop me from moving forward.”

Moving forward.

Those two words seemed to suck all the air from Celestine’s lungs, and she couldn’t hear what Lucille said after that. Anxiety slithered its cold, ruthless tendrils around her heart at the haunting realization that while everyone else was moving forward into the future, she was getting left behind. Lucille was going to get married; Silas was going to be a knight. 

And she…

She was going to be alone.

Forever condemned to endure the duke’s disapproving expression whenever he saw her. Or Marcus’s refusal to even acknowledge her presence as if she was inconsequential as the carpet they walked on. Or the worst of all: Honoria’s malicious remarks whenever she and her maids passed her on the hallway, and there was no one else to defend her.

Baseborn bitch.

Celestine inhaled sharply, and tried to control her escalating heartbeat.

You should have died in your wench-of-a-mother’s womb.

No.

No wonder your mother abandoned you. No one wants a dirty little thing like you.

Stop it.

You’ll be alone forever, bitch.

No. Gritting her teeth, Celestine blocked out the thoughts. She wasn’t a small child who got hurt by mere words anymore. She was stronger now. Life has withheld so much from her, but she was going to take back what she deserved, starting with the one thing she craved:

Freedom.

Whatever happened, she was going to escape this place.

“Cel? Are you okay?” Silas had apparently sat up, and was now leaning forward to inspect her face closely. “You look very pale. I think we should go back so you can rest. It’s getting late, anyways.”

“N-no, I’m fine,” Celestine replied, running a clammy hand through her hair. “It could just be the heat. And besides, I don’t want to cut our time short. It could be a while since we could relax like this when father and the others get back tomorrow.”

Silas gasped. “Oh, gods, I completely forgot about that. Has it truly been fourteen days since they left?”

“Yes, my lord. Today would mark a fortnight since they left for the Royal Palace.”

“Wait, let me check.” Silas counted his fingers. “Damn, you two are right. So, assuming they left this afternoon and will stay the night at an inn on the way, they should arrive tomorrow noontime, then?”

Lucille nodded, but shot Celestine a worried look. “You still look unwell, my lady. It should probably best to retire now.”

“Yeah, Cel, you look worn out. Let’s head back, come on.”

And with that, Celestine found herself being assisted off the ground by her brother, her mind still in a whirl. Silas promptly offered to carry her straw basket, along with his satchel, while Lucille lent her an arm as they made their way back to the horse.

None of them noticed the pair of ruby eyes that flashed briefly in the background.