'What about him'

Fabrics. Fittings. Jewelry. More fabrics and fittings, then even more pieces of jewelry.

Ever since she woke up from the beating, Amelia's been restricted from going to town without a guard tailing her. She tried sneaking out once, but she hasn't arrived at the back gate yet when she saw Ancel waiting there. Vance also changed her audience schedule to a maximum of only once a week. Amelia's dying of boredom to the point that her brain had become dull from the lack of proper stimulation. Not to mention, the tiara that's been sitting on the side of her table gave her a headache each time she saw it.

Only royalty wore tiaras. And to add to that headache, Amelia received a letter from the emperor himself saying that he would like to host her coming-of-age ceremony, which would be held at Kaerndal Palace—only royalties were allowed to use that for their own personal occasions.

"You don't think this is Duncan's idea, right?" Amelia turned away from her dresser to face Constance who was busy matching fabrics for her gowns. "And why are there so many gowns? I spent my entire day with the seamstress, and all shades of red seemed the same to me."

A chuckle left Constance's mouth as she looked at the duchess whining like a child.

"I don't think the crown prince has the courage right now to pull that kind of thing. His recent scandal had the majesty ignore him at one event—it's looking grim for him."

Right, that was the talk of the town a few days ago. Even the aristocratic faction was wishing there's an illegitimate son somewhere; the nobles are thinking the same too. They have made it into a competition of whoever won the second prince over gets to brag about it.

Amelia sighed again. She's been sighing her life away since the Gathering, and there's one scheduled again in a few months—in a few months, she'll see her estranged fiancé, who hasn't even sent a letter to her since he left for his duchy.

Three knocks in a familiar rhythm. It was Laila returning from her errand.

Both the duchess and Constance turned their attention to the entrance, and seconds after the door opened and carefully closed, the youngest lady-in-waiting peeked through with a huge rectangular box wrapped in a rose-colored ribbon on her hands.

"Madame Camelia's apprentice came to give this for this afternoon's tea party."

Carefully undoing the ribbon, the paper inserts rustled as Constance, who was clearly more excited than the duchess, unfolded them one by one, revealing a peach-colored dress with slightly puffed long sleeves made of delicate see-through fabric that gathered around the wrists.

"Isn't it showing much skin? And I don't like layered floor-length skirts." Amelia noted as Constance held it against her. As much as how Amelia loved the feel of unrestricting clothes, she became used to buttoned-up dresses, since she's recovering from her bruises and cuts, that fancy ones felt… too fancy.

"This will look good on you, duchess," Constance reassured.

"Plus, the ones attending the party are all noble daughters. They'd expect you'd dress more extravagantly than them," seconded Laila.

Amelia shook her head but gave up soon enough as she watched her lady-in-waiting straighten her dress on the bed.

After the uneventful morning, lunch came. Amelia spent it with her ladies-in-waiting in her room because her adviser was too busy these past few weeks trying to fill in for her, attending different engagements and parties at the capital. She apologized for every chance she got, and the guilt built up whenever Vance patted her head and smiled at her gently. The duchess saw him as her only living family; adding to his pile of work and tiring him was the last thing Amelia wanted.

After eating, her ladies-in-waiting asked the maidservants to prepare her bath while Amelia rested by the cushioned divan near the window overlooking the Western Garden. The wind came in ever so gently through the opened balcony door and embraced the duchess, lulling her to sleep, but she fought it.

She was called that the bath was ready not long after, and Amelia took a quick one and was out in no time. Laila dried and brushed the tangles away from her waist-long silver hair while Constance chose jewelry to go with the dress. Finally, Amelia slipped on the dress after much battling with the corset and the three layers of soft fabric that went before her skirt when they were done. The darker-colored satin ribbon decorated the side of her off-shouldered dress the same ones that Laila tied about her wrists to tighten the ruffled cuffs.

As if the corset wasn't enough of a torture, Constance showed Amelia the heavily embroidered waistband with tiny crystals to further emphasize her small waist and give volume to the skirt.

"I can't breathe anymore," said Amelia as her ladies-in-waiting tightened the band around her waist by the same-colored satin ribbon.

"It's not about breathing. It's about looking elegant, duchess." There was a hint of sarcasm in Constance's voice as her eyes smirked under her lashes.

The torturous dress-up continued for a few minutes more before she was permitted to sit back in front of her dresser so she could wear her matching shoes.

Then it's time for hair and jewelry.

As the ruler of her House, Amelia couldn't go out of the palace without wearing House Florence's crest on her chest, a golden brooch in the shape of a rose embedded with red crystals that showed striking rays when the sun hits it. Around her neck, the duchess opted for a small ruby pendant necklace. Constance chose the same-colored crystals for her earrings. Her hair was braided on both sides and gathered in the center with the matching long ribbon that Madame Camelia included, and Constance lightly fluffed her slightly wavy hair for some volume. At this point, Amelia permitted her ladies-in-waiting to attend to themselves, so they'd have enough time to change for the tea party.

There's still an hour or so left; there was no rush.

Amelia stood from her dresser when the two ladies left and opened its drawer to choose an essence to use. She rarely used scent on herself because it blocked her nose, but since she's all dressed for the occasion, might as well smell like one too.

Looking at herself on the life-size mirror beside her dresser, Amelia tipped the opened bottle of citrus and flowers essence on the tip of her index finger and rubbed it behind her ears.

Entranced at her own reflection, the duchess's fingers slowly trailed the length of her shoulder to the other, brushing the pendant that was formerly her mother's, which sat comfortably between her well-defined clavicles. Fortunately, the minor cuts she attained during her fight were gone thanks to the special salve that the young prince of Robina sent her.

Amelia twirled slightly, letting the fabric follow her every move; the skirt fell just above the tip of her shoes. Blooming roses were embroidered on her waistband, and the tiny crystals that looked like dewdrops were eye-catching.

With a few approving nods at herself, she straightened her back and headed out. The venue of her first tea party was at one of the greenhouses she personally managed. It's full of flowers that she brought home while traveling with Ayland for her poison immunity; some came from overseas and the neighboring kingdoms as gifts.

Tea parties—or parties, in general—were things that Amelia didn't think necessary. Instead, she had meetings—a lot of it—with different people regarding topics ranging from as small as a grain of rice to as wide as the sky.

But tea parties? What do girls her age usually talk about at tea parties? Gossip? Trends?

She's not up to date on such trivial things.

Unease crept in Amelia as her hand tightened at the wooden railing of the stairs, but she swallowed the feeling and held her head high as Miss Carmen taught her before. Then, looking at the massive clock at the end of the hall, the duchess went to her office to kill some time.

After an hour of reading through proposal after proposal, her two ladies-in-waiting knocked on the door. Once permitted, they told Amelia that her guests arrived and were waiting at the greenhouse. But, on their way toward the door, another knock sounded. As soon as permission was given, a servant came with a letter pinned on the silver tray by a small black box.

"What's that? Who sent this?" Amelia inspected as she lifted the box to read the letter.

Sealed with no stamp to identify the sender. Amelia looked at the people in the room, then back to the letter in her hand. Curious, she carefully tore the seal and unfolded the paper. It hasn't been seconds since she opened it, but it was pretty visible to the observant eyes of her ladies-in-waiting—and probably the maid too—that blood rushed to the duchess' cheeks, and the tip of her ears turn red instantly.

On the piece of paper wrote, "I will see you soon, my duchess. I miss you greatly. Lex."

**********

"Duchess!"

"Good day, Duchess."

"Duchess, good day."

"It's nice to see that you're doing well, duchess."

"Good day, duchess. Thank you for inviting us today."

The sweet smell of blooming flowers, the beautiful faces gathered to greet her, and the soft-like-clouds atmosphere overwhelmed Amelia. Not only did her guests look attractive in any sense, but they also dressed rather exquisitely for a mere tea party. Larger than usual, crystals and rare stones adorned everyone. It was good that she let Madame Camelia choose the best design she could think of that would fit the occasion and her status.

"Good day, everyone," Amelia said, reciprocating their curtsies with one of her own, which made her guests blush. They've never had someone as high status as Amelia give them a curtsy. "I deeply appreciate giving me a bit of your time this afternoon. I picked some white roses this morning when I had the time—I hope you'd like it as much as I did." There were pleased gasps and teary eyes as Laila and Constance handed them the roses from the basket they were carrying.

"Thank you, Duchess." The ladies said almost in unison, giggling, whispering to each other, with the flower they received held close.

Amelia smiled at them and gestured at the long tea table set in the middle of the greenhouse decorated with short vases of in-season flowers and a wine-red table runner embroidered with roses in white. Shortly after everyone was settled, two of her knights came in pushing carts. One contained pastry, cakes, pies, an assortment of biscuits, and fresh fruit and flower jams. The other cart brought in teacups and teapots, saucers, and other silverware.

"You're brewing the tea, Lady Constance? A maidservant should do it, but…hmm, I don't see any. Where are they, by the way?" Lady Irene Brante noted when Constance stood up to prepare the tea leaves.

Taken aback, Constance's eyes shifted from the daughter of Count Brante, a member of Amelia's council, to the duchess, then to the others. But reading the situation, another spoke.

"I've heard from Mother that after the poisoning incident, Mr. Thomson replaced almost all the palace staff, and maidservants were now forbidden to brew her grace's tea." It was Marchioness Maud's daughter, Christa, who spoke after she adjusted her eyeglasses.

According to the report given to Amelia about her guests, Christa was a few months younger than her. Her mother was a widow of Marquess Berdwell, who unexpectedly passed away during a day patrol at the border on a scorching summer morning a few years back. But his death didn't hinder his widow from taking his former position as a tactic and planning expert. Though the war was far from the imagination of the empire, minor disputes arose from time to time, and the late Marquess was an excellent negotiator of such cases—as it turned out, his wife showed even more potential.

While Christa made her point, Irene nodded along, being the second youngest among them. Amelia studied her discreetly; Laila was shorter than her despite being a year older. Her short, brunette, and slightly wavy hair, paired with eyes as blue as the depths of the sea, thin rosy lips, and fair skin, made her look like a doll.

"Oh, the incident!" the bunch's attention quickly turned to the lady at the far right of the tea table—Miss Sybil Beauchant. Her slightly tanned complexion, hair as black and shiny as the night sky, and mysterious brown eyes were traits of the people from the Kingdom of Toutis in the far south of the continent. Her family came to Osmea and opened a jewelry store and later opted to stay.

Sand covered most of Toutis' land as far as the eyes stretched, but they were blessed with vast mineral caves and reserves. Sybil's family was well-off back there, but their store became famous among nobles and aristocrats all over Creador because of their unusual designs.

"My father fainted when he heard about it. It was a disaster! My mother screamed so much when she saw Father that my siblings woke up and cried. I hurried down the stairs and almo—oh, thank you for the tea, Lady Laila—where was I? Oh, yes! I almost tripped and fell! Good thing I managed to grab the railing fast. It was—a disaster." Sybil finished with her palms facing the others as she looked at each one.

Amelia giggled, a first again in a few weeks. Other than Arabella, she's never been with someone like Sybil. She's so energetic and loud, and a little high pitch for Amelia's sensitive ears, but she was a joy to watch. And just when the ladies thought she was done, Sybil spoke again after she had a sip of tea and a small piece of vanilla cake.

"I mean," she swallowed, "Who poisons a duchess and a duke and gets away with it, right?" Sybil shook her head and leaned forward. "I also heard the maid who prepared the tea was exiled. Despite that, there were no leads. People have been saying that there was a cover-up that happened!" she whispered. Even Amelia and her ladies-in-waiting slightly leaned forward to listen too.

Rumors about the incident being staged also reached Amelia's ears. Some said that the House Clement wanted to overtake Osmea; some noted that supporters of her aunt's husband were behind it; some were even more ridiculous, and some were just plain unreasonable. If possible, the duchess would also like to think about her bloodied hand as nothing but a nasty dream—but the fact that her hand still trembled when she tried to pick up her daggers was proof that it wasn't.

Sybil's mother owned several salons around town; they're excellent sources of the latest gossip and hard-to-get-by news. Soon enough, Sybil would start running some of it herself. Women of all ages and classes frequented the place to talk—and by talking, it meant to gossip. Some of her patrons were Amelia's informants; that's how she knew about even the most minor complaints around her duchy. But she didn't think such information would even reach Sybil.

She's going to be more beneficial than the duchess thought.

Gossip and giggling over tea weren't the purpose that Amelia decided to hold a tea party and invite the daughters of established families; its true purpose was to connect with ladies her age who could be helpful in her future plans. Sending in a knight or Arabella and her brother to find out things for her might become too apparent. Especially since there's information about the two factions keeping a close eye on her every move. Her personal knights have apprehended some who were seen wandering through town asking for information about the palace's new staff.

"Which is true, your grace?" Irene asked in a low voice and furrowed brow.

A small smile crossed the duchess' face as she noted the young lady beside her flinched after she went ahead and placed her hand on top of hers.

"I would like to think it was a dream too," her eyes wandered across the table as her guests remained silent.

"And the maid? Was she really banished? She wasn't killed? There was no fair trial." It was Christa who asked.

"Is it true?" Irene innocently asked, and Amelia curtly smiled after placing the cup back on the table.

"Yes, it's true. Miss Clifton knew about it since it was her father who escorted the maid out of Creador."

Olive Clifton, who was then munching on some biscuits, cleared her throat. She had been sitting quietly, casually nodding, and smiling at some remarks.

"Hm-mm, yes. My father did." She simply answered then went back to munching. The others stayed still, uncertain of what they should respond to. Even the duchess was at a loss for words.

A few moments more of deafening silence and the group of budding flowers of society laughed, leaving Miss Olive confused.

"Oh no, my eyes…" Sybil said, chuckling, her hand on her stomach while the others were busy freeing their lashes from the tears that welled in their eyes.

"Do-don't laugh too much. It's unladylike…" said Lucilla, Count Royfield's daughter, who later burst out laughing too.

"Haa… that was funny," continued Christa after she wiped the side of her eyes with her handkerchief. "You should speak up some more, Miss Olive,"

The quiet miss giggled and popped the remainder of the biscuit in her mouth. Olive Clifton's father was the Knight Commander of the Second Division, Sir Hugo. Vance tasked him to clean up whatever was left of Alexander's and the duchess' deed. What was made public was that Amelia suffered severe complications that led her to be unconscious for weeks; the maid, having no information and relation to the poisoning other than preparing the tea, was spared her head in exchange for leaving the empire.

"Enough of that dreary talk, everyone. There's only one thing I want to confirm today with my own eyes and ears," a sly smile ran across Sybil's face, and by the looks of it, Amelia knew she'd be quite in a bind, so she prepared herself mentally to show as little reaction as possible.

"About the duke…" Sybil whispered, and all heads, even her own ladies-in-waiting, turned slowly towards Amelia. "Are you two—?" she let the question hang, and the duchess almost choked on her tea.

"What about him?" Amelia calmly asked.

"There were words in town that he stayed while you were unconscious, your grace. Is the engagement true then?"

Amelia blinked. How should she answer her? Going defensive would seem like she's lying; she also just couldn't straight up tell them when she hasn't told even her adviser yet. Taking too much time thinking would also seem doubtful.

"The duke was poisoned too, right? Though he has poison immunity and wasn't greatly affected like the duchess was, we had him stay in the palace just to be safe. We don't want him returning to his duchy all groggy and poisoned." Laila kidded.

"What?!?" Sybil almost shrieked, and the others were stunned in their seats.

"No one knows about this, so I hope this would only be between us," Amelia said after giving Laila a discreet nod. She better remember to thank her lady-in-waiting for her little white lie later.

"Oh goodness," Lucilla said, her cup suspended halfway from drinking it.

"That could've been terrible for Osmea," seconded Christa—as expected of the Marchioness' daughter to put the duchy's affairs first. Amelia should request her once Constance decides on her wedding date; she'd be busy with all the preparations then.

"And here I thought a wedding's happening," Miss Sybil's shoulder slumped, and mouth pouted, stabbing the defenseless piece of the pie.

Amelia smiled at how she really reminded her of Arabella—just less the assassin family and the foul mouth. And before she realized it, her mind wandered to the letter and the small box that she shoved into one of her drawers without even opening. The duchess hoped it wasn't what she thought it was.

As the afternoon progressed, the conversation rocked between the duchess' love life and the advantages it would bring to Osmea and the law that prohibited marriage between two rulers, or immediate family of the ruling family, of a duchy. Amelia also managed to get some new insights about some plans she's been brewing for the past month but was having trouble completing. To think she'd enjoy her afternoon tea with ladies close to her age was a new feeling.

After another hour, the tea party ended, and Amelia and her ladies-in-waiting escorted them to their carriages. They said their goodbyes and hoped to see each other soon. Of course, the duchess didn't forget to invite them to her coming birthday next month, saying, "I will send you invitations when the details are finalized."