Serena sat before her mother, cradling the velvet box wrapped in green ribbon. Inside was the very dress she had coveted for months, and now it lay in her lap as though fortune itself had descended, as though she had just been handed a manor for free.
Adrian. Adrian Iverson.
A Seraph of old blood, heir to estates scattered across the land. The kind of man who could spend in minutes what her family would not see in years. The kind of man who could, with a single whim, buy her sister a trinket worth double their crumbling home.
At first, Serena had thought Eva was foolish to dally with him. But now... envy gnawed at her. If Adrian truly desired Evangeline, then what mattered how? Even as a mistress, Eva would live in splendor beyond imagination. And if it had been her— if Adrian had turned his eyes on her— she would not have hesitated.
"That Adrian man," Serena murmured, fingers tightening around the box. "Why is he charmed by Eva?"
"Who knows?" Mrs. Crestmont's voice was laced with disdain. "She must have used her body, rolling in hay like a common wench. It cannot be her face— she could never rival you in beauty. It must be something else entirely."
Serena's eyes sparked at that.
Of course. She was beautiful. Everyone said so— her mother most of all. Eva was pale, dull, forgettable. Serena was radiant. How could Adrian not have felt something when he looked at her yesterday? He had paid for her gown, after all. Paid for both their gowns, but surely hers had meant more.
The thought bloomed, bright and hungry, until it warmed her chest. Perhaps fate had merely misaligned. Perhaps she only had to reach out to claim what her sister wasted.
She rose from her seat abruptly, determination written in the set of her jaw. Mrs. Crestmont arched a brow, intrigued.
"And where are you off to, darling?"
"I believe I'll visit Madam Trevor," Serena said breezily, shrugging into her coat. Her eyes drifted to the velvet box resting on the table— the gift Adrian had pressed upon Eva, meant as a collar more than jewelry. A slow smile curved her lips. She liked it. And Eva, as always, would give her whatever she demanded.
What harm was there in keeping it for herself?
When Serena arrived at Madam Trevor's house, she didn't so much as glance at the door, nor did she bother to knock. Instead, she drifted around the garden like a prowling cat until her eyes landed on Milo, crouched with his simple hands filling a brown sack with carrots. Perfect.
Without hesitation, she dropped to her knees in the dirt, not caring that her stockings tore at the corner. She twisted her face into a mask of anguish and let out a sharp, piercing cry.
"OUCH! H-help! Somebody, please!"
The sound struck Milo like a blade. He sprang upright, carrots scattering, and scrambled over the fence in alarm. His wide, worried eyes locked on Serena, who was clutching her ankle, her body trembling with feigned pain.
When he reached her side, Serena seized his shirt with desperate fingers. Her doe-like eyes shimmered with tears, lashes wet and trembling. Her cheeks flushed pink as though life itself had mistreated her. It was a picture of innocence shattered— a sight that begged to be pitied, protected, adored.
"I fell..." Her voice cracked like fragile glass. She lifted her face to him, trembling. "Would you... help me, please?"
Milo, who knew little of the venom hidden in women's wiles, felt heat crawl up his neck. A flush overtook him as he stared at her, helpless against the spell of her fragility. Serena saw it— the exact moment his guard fell.
Behind the shimmer of her tears, a smile threatened. She pressed her cheek to Milo's chest, soft and yielding— a serpent cloaked in silk. Beneath the curtain of her lashes, her lips curved, secret and sharp. Another fool had stumbled into her snare. Another man's gaze stolen— another piece of her sister's fragile world quietly claimed.
"Miss Serena... why are you here?" Milo asked at last, his voice strained as he tied the final knot around her ankle. His hands lingered longer than they should, and when his eyes brushed against the pale skin revealed to him, his throat worked in a nervous gulp.
Serena tilted her head, lashes trembling with false innocence. She looked at him as though he were the only safe anchor in a storm, her smile soft, her tone dipped in honey.
"Actually... it's because of my sister," she murmured.
The words slipped from her lips like a secret carried by the breeze. A gust swept through the garden, scattering leaves behind Trevor's house, carrying her lie into the air as though the wind itself conspired to hide her deceit.
Far from that farm, Evangeline stepped out of yet another closed door, her basket still empty, her heart heavier than before.
The lace she had carried, had been refused. Again. She lifted her chin, trying to walk as though the rejection had not touched her, but her steps betrayed her, faltering under the quiet weight of it.
It wasn't her craft they despised; she knew that. Her work had always been flawless. No, it was the whispers, rumors that slithered from mouth to mouth, that had poisoned their view of her.
And that was the cruelest wound of all. Not to be turned away for lack of skill, but to be shunned for a lie.
Sighing again, Evangeline decided that she should try walking further, perhaps in a different town. It would cause her to be late and to wake up earlier than usual but wouldn't it be better than losing customer for good?
At least, she hope that they don't care about it over there...
Evangeline then sat down, feeling exhaustion on her calf. By the roadside, she saw a crow and was once again reminded by the same black feather that had suddenly disappeared from her bedside.
She wondered... was there really a Seraph with black feather?
But those black feather seemed so beautiful, oddly almost so powerful.
She admired it and so when she woke up today to find it disappear, she was a little heartbroken, a little more than usual. Perhaps that was why she had felt a little more dispirited today than usual.
Just then a carriage stopped beside her. Surprised, she stood up, moving away as she thought that someone had wanted to walk out to this road which she had blocked but surprisingly, the coachman called, "Missus, missus, wait a second."
Evangeline stopped at her heels, blinking her green eyes as she noted a raven pin on his collar, a familiar one she had seen before but she forgot where...
"Is there anything?" She asked the coachman who smiled, pointing toward her basket.
"My master is interested in the laces you made. Would it be possible for you to weave a red lace ribbon for around this length?" The coachman measured the size with his hand, a size of about three times a quill pen. It was quite long but it wouldn't take long. Though a red lace is an odd choice as most people prefer white.
"Certainly," Eva chirped brightly, her face flushed with excitement. Finally she has an order! "Is there a motif that would like to be incorporated to the lace?"
"Rose, perhaps," the coachman eyed the carriage as if he was talking to the master inside the carriage for a confirmation. Odd because the curtains were drawn and she tried to peek but she couldn't see anything inside the carriage. "And anything you would like to add. How long will it take? Miss?"
She snapped from staring at the carriage and back at the coachman, "Around four days at most. With whose name will the order be listed at? Maybe an address for me to also deliver the lace."
"That won't be necessary please name it under my name, Jack. In four days, around the same time, I shall come back to pick the ribbon."
Four days. It was just a day away to the party right? That grandiose ball. She might also have time to style her dress so it wouldn't look too simple.
"Alright, mister Jack. I'll be sure to make a perfect lace," she smiled brightly, not knowing how her smile had spread across her pink cheeks had been studied closely by the man inside the carriage, his violet eyes gleaming while his grin appeared, contrasting his icy eyes.
While he watched Evangeline's face, her voice, and her expression that was all so bright under the sun, his finger played with the black feather Eva had lost in her room.
Even as the carriage had left, his violet eyes were trained on her, and his lips that were always set to a single line out of boredom finally formed into a smile.
"Found you."