š.š: Afternoon tea
Elysia's perspective
šhe King originally intended to speak with me in the Great Hall, but I guess after the drama with that scum Benjamin Gaetan, he had a change of heart.
Instead, he requested afternoon tea.
How absurd.
From what I could gather from Elysia's memories, the last time he ever summoned her for a private meeting had been years ago.
And even that memory was hazyālike it had been washed over by time, devoid of meaning.
Which only made this invitation all the more perplexing.
Why was he suddenly seeking a private audience with me?
I glanced across the delicate tea table, its surface crowded with pastel-colored pastries, dainty sandwiches, and an artful arrangement of fruit.
We were seated in the palace garden, beneath an ivory gazebo with flowering vines twisting up the beams.
The sunlight was especially vivid today, drenching the vibrant colors of the flowers, grass, and trees in brilliant contrast. Birds chirped and flitted through the branches, their melodies adding to the surreal serenity of it all.
The garden truly was beautiful. I would've appreciated it more if I wasn't so on edge.
I tried to nibble on a cream-filled bun, but it tasted like stale chalk crumbling on my tongue.
King Zachary still hadn't spoken a word to me, even though our little tea party had dragged on for over thirty minutes.
His silver lashes lowered in a slow blink as he brought his cup to his lips, sipping like this was the highlight of his day.
Meanwhile, I was here rubbing my brain cells together, desperately trying to make sense of his silence.
And maybe it was because I wasn't a fan of teaādefinitely more of a coffee girlābut the whole experience just made my throat itch.
What baffled me even more was how naturally I was moving, like I'd been trained for this my whole life.
How was I sipping my tea like a seasoned noblewoman when I'd only been one for less than a day?
Muscle memory.
When I first received the King's invitation, I panicked. How was I supposed to sit across from literal royalty and not look like an uncultured peasant?
But the moment my fingers curled around the teacup's handle, something shifted. I was poised, polished.
My hand moved with practiced grace, like I was born into this role. Which, technically, I wasāat least now.
Speaking of the wonders of Elysia's muscle memory, I'd even dressed myself in this floral-themed attire.
On my own.
No help, no fuss.
You'd think a princess would have a whole squad of maids fluttering around her, but ever since Benjamin stormed out of my chambers earlier that morning, no one else had shown up.
Not even a knock at the door.
I tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. Maybe they were understaffed.
Yeah, right. As if one of Velmoria's most elite royal households was short on staff.
But then I stepped out of my chambersā¦ and there they were. Maids, dozens of them, bustling back and forth down the corridors.
Not a single one looked at me. Not one bowed. They walked past like I was invisible.
Ha.
Elysia's memories had hinted at the neglect, but experiencing it firsthand? It stung worse than I imagined.
How could they treat her like this? Like she was nothing worth regarding?
My fingers tightened around my fork, and before I knew it, I let out a frustrated little grunt.
That finally seemed to snap King Zachary out of his dreamlike state. He turned to peer at me, a trace of curiosity in his expression.
"Are the preparations not to your liking?" he asked, voice smooth and unreadable.
I blinked, caught off guard.
I hadn't expected him to speakāmuch less so calmly. But I managed to collect myself, lowering my fork delicately before replying.
"Not at all, Your Majesty. Everything is exquisite. Thank you for inviting me," I said with a practiced smile.
Even though I still have no idea why I'm here, you confusing hypocrite, I added inwardly.
Then, silence again.
It stretched between us, suffocating and heavy.
I was just about ready to scream into my teacup when he finally spoke again.
"You turn eighteen this month," he said, setting his cup down with quiet finality. "Which means a debutante ball is due."
I didn't know which part was more shocking:
The audacity he had to remember the birthday of the daughter he supposedly loathed to his very coreāso much so that he didn't even see the need to assign her a single personal attendant?
Or the fact that he was actually planning to host her a debutante ball?
But amidst all that chaos in my head, one realization rose above the rest like a flare in the dark:
I was turning eighteen this month.
Which meant that a keystone event from the original novel was fast approaching.
Elysia's debutante ball.
It was an event which was nothing more than a fleeting mention in the original novel. Much like King Zachary and Elysia's adolescent years in general.
Again, she wasn't the protagonist, so the novel's narrative didn't revolve around her.
But that nightā¦ That night was when she met him.
The Vampire King. Thorne de Valmont.
I felt myself shudder at the thought.
If I let the story play out the way it had been written, our encounter was inevitable. And once we metā¦
Things would lead to things.
One event would snowball into the next, and before anyone could stop to question it, I'd be clenching in pain, bringing his cursed child into the world.
An ache twisted deep in my gut.
Butāwhat if the ball never happened?
What if I could delay it? Dodge it? Somehow make it so we never crossed paths in the first place?
A tiny voice inside my head lit up with hope.
But thenā
[Host, it's impossible.]
[You can delay the meeting between you and the vampire king all you want, but your fates are tethered.]
[Even if you don't meet at the ball, you're destined to meet somewhere else within this timeline.]
And just like that, my brief flicker of hope was snuffed out like a candle in the wind.
King Zachary set his teacup down with a soft clink then, drawing me out of my spiraling thoughts.
His voice was steadyādeliberate. "Is there anything you desire, Elysia? As a gift. For your birthday."
I blinked at him.
Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn't one.
Why now?
Why this sudden surge of effort from a man who hadn't so much as looked my way for years?
Was this guilt?
Pity?
A calculated move to maintain the image of a benevolent ruler?
Orā¦ something more personal? A buried ember of regret trying to flicker to life?
The old Elysia would've probably stammered or remained silent, unsure how to accept something so foreign from him.
But I lifted my head and met his gaze. Calm. Composed.
"I just want to live a peaceful, comfortable life here in the palace," I said quietly. "If that can be arrangedā¦ that would be enough."
For a moment, he didn't answer.
His expression didn't shift, but something in the air around us didālike a thread pulled taut between us had loosened just slightly.
And though I couldn't see into his thoughts, I sensed something stir in him.
Perhaps it was the way I didn't avert my gaze.
Or the strength in my voice that hadn't been there before. Or maybe it was the lingering memory of how I'd handled Benjamin Gaetan, the most show of emotions he'd probably ever witnessed from me.
Whatever it was, a crack had appeared in his frosted wall. A small one, yesābut enough. Enough for the tiniest sliver of remorse to slip through.
"I can arrange that," he finally said. His voice was quieter now. Less king, moreā¦ father.
If only just barely.
ā
Unbeknownst to them, two shadows lingered behind a wide window several paces away from the garden.
Hidden behind thick drapes and stone columns, a pair of cold, narrowed eyes observed the unlikely scene below.
Crown Prince Luke Aerelion crossed his arms, tension coiled tightly beneath his sharp features.
His twin, Prince Lucas, stood beside him, jaw clenched.
"What the fāckā¦" Luke muttered, brows furrowed.
"ā¦is Father doing with that murderer?" Lucas finished, malice lacing his words.
The two stood there, twin statues of wrath and confusion, watching the girl they'd long considered a stain on their family name share tea with the kingātheir father.
And for the first time, they realized something was changing.
Something they couldn't control.