"Let's all raise our glasses in a toast to House Zarkenth," the organizer declared.
"To House Zarkenth," echoed the guests, glasses clinking, faces beaming with hollow admiration.
Amanda stood among them, rigid and disdainful. Tch. To think I let myself be roped into this sorry excuse for a celebration—honoring a couple of old men who've never set foot past their ivory towers. A bloody waste of time. I should be cultivating the next phase of my plan... not drowning in this pompous dump.
"Ama—" a voice faded into the hum of laughter and string music.
If I play my cards right, Amanda mused, they'll all be kneeling by winter's end—begging for their lives, clawing to serve me. I have the means. I'm ready.
Her thoughts shattered as she was shaken violently by the shoulder.
"Amanda! Are you even listening?" snapped Emilia, her former co-researcher.
Amanda turned slowly, cold as frost. "I am. And what have I told you about putting your hands on me?"
"My apologies," Emilia replied, voice dripping with faux sincerity. "Poor Amanda... losing your position as Head Researcher must have scattered your little mind. Such a tragic spectacle to behold." Her smile was sharpened with provocation.
Amanda's fists clenched. "A little far from your research, aren't you... Number Two?"
Emilia's face twisted. "Tch. You bitch—I told you never to call me that again!" Her words rang too loudly, drawing glances from the surrounding guests.
Amanda smirked haughtily. "Seems we're both doing things we hate tonight."
"You..." Emilia started but caught herself. She exhaled slowly. "I heard you opened a little orphanage. A few years ago. Do tell... is that true?"
Amanda's smile was cool, almost indulgent. "Just giving back to society, Emilia. At least one of us has the sense to."
"Has the sense to indeed spoken by the warped ex-researcher who wasted years bathing in demon blood," Emilia retorted, her voice slicing through the banquet hall. Guests fell silent, ears turned.
Amanda's eyes blazed, lips pressed tight.
"Quiet, are we? What's wrong? Nothing to say?" Emilia stepped closer, cruel satisfaction in her gaze. "Come now, Amanda. You must know... the only reason your head isn't spiked outside Stargis Church is that you're pure-blooded Zarkenth." Her words struck like blades.
A ripple of unease spread among the crowd.
"Oops. I tend to forget my manners," Emilia chimed sweetly, casting a wicked smile to the stunned room. "My apologies, everyone."
With a triumphant laugh, she melted into the crowd to mingle, leaving Amanda frozen. No one dared approach her.
Amanda collapsed to her knees, breath ragged. Her eyes—wide, hollow, haunted. She bit her lip so hard it bled.
After a long moment, she rose. No words. No tears.
Just the slow, deliberate dusting of her dress.
Then she turned toward the exit, gaze locked forward.