Kill the Light

15 - Divergence

The morning sun bathed the school garden canopy in a warm glow as we gathered for our usual morning tea. Prince Dylan, Lady Evelina, Lord Caleb, Lord Geoffrey, and I sat around the ornate table, each lost in our own thoughts.

 Prince Dylan, ever the picture of charm and composure, reclined in his chair with an air of calculated ease, his gaze flickering between the assembled group with a discerning eye.

Lord Geoffrey's animated chatter about his family's recent discovery of an underground mine echoed through the canopy, while Prince Dylan listened with polite interest, though his mind was undoubtedly preoccupied with matters of greater importance. My attention wavered, consumed by the weight of my own concerns.

As I half-listened to Lord Geoffrey's recounting, my mind raced with the daunting task ahead. How would I break the news to Prince Dylan about Lady Elara's destructive outburst? The gown he had gifted me was torn to shreds by his "beloved" and it laid heavy on my conscience, a tangible reminder of the confrontation that had unfolded earlier.

Despite the casual banter that flowed around me, I couldn't shake the feeling of isolation that hung in the air. Lady Evelina's cool indifference and Lord Caleb's thinly veiled disdain served as constant reminders of my precarious position within the group.

Before I could dwell further on the matter, Prince Dylan's smooth voice cut through the haze of my thoughts, drawing my attention back to the present. "Clytie, you seem distracted," he remarked, his tone laced with subtle curiosity.

I met his gaze, the weight of my confession heavy on my shoulders. "There's something I need to discuss with you, Prince Dylan," I admitted, my voice steady despite the apprehension that gnawed at my insides. "It's about the gown you gave me..."

A flicker of intrigue danced in Prince Dylan's eyes, his expression betraying a hint of curiosity. "Go on," he urged, his tone gentle yet probing.

As I recounted the events that had transpired earlier, Prince Dylan's demeanor remained composed, his expression unreadable as he absorbed the gravity of my words. Though his facade of charm never wavered, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his reaction than met the eye.

A ripple of unease swept through the group, their expressions shifting with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. Lady Evelina's icy demeanor softened ever so slightly, while Lord Caleb's gaze bore into me with thinly veiled suspicion.

I couldn't shake the uncertainty that gnawed at my insides as I awaited Prince Dylan's response. His calm demeanor offered little indication of his true feelings, leaving me to wonder whether he was genuinely concerned or merely feigning interest for the sake of appearances.

As I trailed off, uncertain of how Prince Dylan would react, he regarded me with a thoughtful expression, his gaze lingering on mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "I appreciate your honesty, Clytie," he said, his voice measured. "Rest assured, I will address the matter accordingly."

His words offered little reassurance, leaving me to ponder the true extent of his intentions. Was he genuinely concerned about Lady Elara's behavior, or was he merely focused on preserving his image as a benevolent prince?

Before I could dwell further on the matter, Prince Dylan shifted his attention to the topic at hand, his gaze fixing on mine with a determined glint. "As for the Founding Ball," he continued, his voice firm. "I see no reason why you shouldn't attend."

I blinked in surprise, taken aback by his insistence. "But Prince Dylan," I protested, my voice tinged with uncertainty. "The ball is only two days away. I don't have enough time to prepare another attire."