Kapitel 11: Shocking Presence

The dark-haired woman leaned back in her chair, watching Selene with disdain and curiosity.

Her eyebrow raised as she crossed a leg over the other.

"Princess Elyra Frostwynd," she said, her voice smooth, the kind of tone that demanded attention. "Of the Frostveil Court."

Selene raised an eyebrow but said nothing, taking another bite of her meal as if Elyra's title was no more impressive than a passing breeze.

The petite blonde sitting two chairs away spoke up next. "I'm Lady Vivienne Darnell," she said with a small, practiced smile. "From the Verdant Duchy." Her wide eyes darted to Elyra, then back to Selene, as if unsure whether she should smile or scowl.

The third woman, a statuesque redhead with piercing green eyes, didn't wait for an invitation. "Lady Cressida Montclair," she said, her tone clipped and direct. "House Montclair, Ironclad's oldest noble family."

Selene's gaze lingered on her for a moment, noting the rigid set of her shoulders and the way her hands stayed poised, as if she were ready to slap someone at a moment's notice.

Elyra tilted her head, her sharp eyes narrowing. "And you? You don't look like nobility."

Selene wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make the women fidget. Finally, she leaned back, her golden eyes gleaming. "Niamh," she said, her voice calm but cool. "Niamh Ardyn."

Cressida's lips twitched in something resembling a sneer. "Ardyn? Never heard of it."

Selene smirked, biting into a roasted potato. "That's because it's none of your business."

The air in the room grew tense, the other women exchanging wary glances. Before anyone could respond, Vivienne's gaze darted toward the door. "Where's Cliona?"

Selene froze, the name hitting her like a blade between the ribs. Her fingers tightened around her fork as she forced her expression to remain blank.

Elyra shrugged, her voice dismissive. "She's at the gardens I believe. The king made sure she is well comfortable."

"Cliona doesn't like crowds," Vivienne added quickly, her tone apologetic.

"And the king favored."

Selene set her fork down carefully, her appetite suddenly gone. "Excuse me," she said, rising from the table. Her voice was calm, but the slight tremor in her hands betrayed the storm building inside her.

---

The halls were quieter than she expected, and, to her surprise, no guards followed. That was good. She didn't need an audience.

Selene spotted a passing maid carrying a basket of linens and stepped into her path. The maid startled, nearly dropping the basket, before looking up with wide eyes.

"Where's Cliona?" Selene asked, her tone sharp enough to make the maid flinch.

"Th-the eastern gardens," the maid stammered, pointing down the hall. "In the tent."

Selene didn't wait for further explanation. She turned on her heel, following the maid's direction until the corridor opened into a sprawling garden bathed in moonlight.

The tent stood at the center, its white fabric glowing faintly in the dim light. Flowers surrounded it—bright, vibrant blooms arranged in a circle. Selene paused, her eyes narrowing. She recognized those flowers. Spell blooms. They absorbed sound, ensuring that whatever was said inside the tent wouldn't be heard by anyone outside.

A bitter laugh escaped her. Did Cliona expect her to come?

There were no guards in sight. No witnesses. Selene approached the tent, her boots crunching softly against the gravel path. She hesitated at the entrance, her hand brushing against the fabric.

Then she pushed it aside and stepped inside.

Cliona was there, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of light. She was seated at a small table, a goblet of wine in hand, her elegant dress shimmering like spun gold. Her beauty was almost otherworldly, her every movement precise and deliberate.

She didn't look up immediately, instead swirling the wine in her goblet as if savoring the anticipation. Finally, she turned, her piercing blue eyes locking onto Selene's.

"Took you long enough," Cliona said, her voice as smooth as silk, with an edge sharp enough to cut.

Selene's jaw tightened, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. "I wasn't exactly eager to see you," she said, her voice low, steady.

Cliona's lips curved into a faint smile. "Oh, I think you were."

Selene stepped closer, her golden eyes blazing. "What do you want?"

Cliona set her goblet down, rising gracefully to her feet. She took a step toward Selene, her gaze unwavering. "What I want," she said softly, "is the same thing I've always wanted."

"And what's that?" Selene asked, her voice laced with venom.

Cliona's smile widened, her eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "To save you, like I always did. It's starting to look as if that's my purpose."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Selene's breath caught, her mind racing. But before she could respond, Cliona stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"I have missed you, my dear…sister."