Mortal Fantasy

✴｜chapter twenty-four

Lady Taria's room is akin to a scene off the page of a fairytale. An exquisite golden dressing table takes up the entire east wall of her chamber, laden with gilded ornaments and sparkling pins. The floor, which looks as if it has been freshly scrubbed, is strewn with rose petals and tufts of feathers, likely from her headpiece. About the four-poster bed is draped a shimmering courant cloth, more fit for a princess than a lady of the court. Her room makes the other dwellings of the palace look dull in contrast.

Lady Taria leads me onto a broad balcony, sending the maids off to get tea as we settle into a pair of crystalline chairs arranged around a quaint table. Despite the full force of the sun illuminating the palace grounds and the entirety of the terrace, the chair feels as if it is made of ice, forcing me to mask a shiver as the lady dons a bright smile and turns to regard me.

"So, Avonstef," she says, collapsing the shaft of her fan into a gloved palm. "How has your stay at the palace been thus far?"

I nearly snort for how ridiculous the question is, but something about Lady Taria is terrifying enough for me to keep my mouth shut. "I am fortunate to be in the presence of such revered golden blooded nobles as yourself."

Lady Taria laughs, a resplendent and unnerving sound. "Oh, don't be foolish, Avonstef. Is that what you really think?"

My fingers furl around my knees from under the table. "Well... I would say that I have been treated well by His Highness."

The smile on Lady Taria's mouth doesn't waver, though some fleeting contrition crosses her eyes. "You would say that, wouldn't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"I was merely referring to the fact that you're the prince's concubine," she explains, tilting her head politely. "Knowing him, you must be quite enjoying yourself."

I am effectively rendered speechless, left to ponder at the meaning of her words as the maids come in to set up the tea on the table. They move deftly and without word, their arms crossing over the table between myself and Lady Taria. Her bright violet eyes do not move from mine, only dropping once as she murmurs something to the nearby maid.

As the servants bow and take their leave, Lady Taria dips a spoon into her cup and swirls it around. I grip the sides of the cup with my palms, unsure of whether to drink from it as she raises her own to her lips, eyeing me with yet another unreadable expression. It should be alright if she drank from it herself, shouldn't it? I frown down at the tea, remembering the pixie extract from last time, until Lady Taria sets down her cup and makes a noise somewhere between amusement and contempt.

"It's not poisoned, I promise," she laughs, pointing at my cup. "But if you don't want to drink it, no matter." She leans one elbow onto the table, her smile chilling me to the marrow. "That's not really what I brought you here to talk about."

My fingers tighten around the cup. "Then what did you bring me here to talk about, my lady?"

"Oh, you know," she says, withdrawing to set the tiny spoon on the edge of her plate. "The prince, really. How has he been?"

"I wouldn't really know," I say, sitting stiffly in my chair. "After all, he only comes to me to..."

Lady Taria covers her mouth with a hand as if to conceal her mirth. "That's right. He's wonderful, isn't he?" She puts a finger over her lips as if she is relaying a secret, her voice lowering into a half-whisper. "After all, you and I, we would both know—wouldn't we?"

The situation finally registers as I stare at Lady Taria, her eyes glittering with laughter at my oblivious nature. Stephen... with her...? It does not help that some part of me lights with indignation at her words; a twisted jealousy rushes through my veins as I grasp her true meaning. She brought me here to taunt me, to show me my place. A congenial cup of tea was never her intention—why would it be, to get friendly with the prince's concubine? Had I doubted her ulterior motive, even for just a moment?