3| Fall From Grace

Later that evening...

The ear-screeching sound of abruptly pressed piano keys in a distorted manner echoed off the silver-lined walls of the Duke's mansion.

"My Lady?" called the piano governess standing before the grand piano, her palms over her ears. "My Lady!" she called again, staring at the pained grimace on the face of Duke Benedict's young daughter.

With her wavy curls packed into twin ponytails and dressed in a majestic purple dress that shimmered even despite the evening lighting, Sylteena's slender melanin fingers casually punched various keys at once without order, causing more than a mere nuisance throughout the building.

"My Lady, would you like to take a break now?"

She immediately stopped, dropping her hands with a bored look. The piano governess, her patience strained, asked, "You seem to be in a bad mood today, My Lady. Is everything alright?"

Sylteena didn't answer immediately, still staring at the music sheet before her—one she could play more than perfectly—but decided to purposely frustrate her tutor.

The governess stepped forward. "Are you hungry, My Lady?"

"I do not wish to play today," she retorted.

The governess sighed. "My Lady?" She then called in a softer tone, "Is it because His Grace is absent?"

Her frown deepened. "He promised to be here." Her voice raised in agitation.

The tutor's expression melted into a warm smile as she strode up to stand next to the Apple of the Duke's eye. She patted her head gently. "His Grace always keeps his promises, doesn't he?"

Sylteena pouted. "Then why isn't he here?!"

"That I am sure he is on his way, as always. He always watches you play."

And at that very moment, the doors of the piano room pushed open, causing their heads to turn.

Sylteena's face immediately lit up at the sight of Philip at the door — she hopped off her seat and raced to the door.

"Philip!" She exclaimed in excitement as she halted before him. Stretching her neck to the side, Sylteena then caught sight of the Viscountess, Lady Genevieve, as well as a few other members of the council.

Her brows knitted at the realization of her father's absence. She slowly turned to Philip.

"Where is Papa?"

Philip looked down at the child with a saddened grimace. He slowly lowered himself to a squatting position before raising his hands to hold both sides of her shoulders.

Her brows furrowed. "Where is Papa, Philip? Is he at another meeting again?" She suddenly frowned. "Is he going to miss my piano lessons?!"

Philip only continued to watch her with softened eyes, his lips feeling too weak to utter the devastating news lingering at the tip of his tongue.

"M- My Lady," he gulped, "Y-- Your father. Our Duke... He... He was with us in the mine when he- Um... You see—"

"Your father is not coming back, My Lady," Genevieve's sharp voice interrupted.

Sylteena looked up. "What?"

Philip dropped his head to breathe in. "He... He wandered off into the mines without the guards to inspect a strange ki and... And well..." He couldn't bring himself to complete it.

Sylteena's brows furrowed. "He what?" She looked up at the other grimacing adults. "What happened to Papa? What happened that he isn't here? Where is he?!"

Genevieve then stepped forward with fallen lips and knitted brows to form a remorseful expression. "My Lady..." She lowered herself to her knees. "You see... About your father... There was a mine collapse, and your father couldn't make it out in time."

The blood drained from Sylteena's face as her skin crawled with goosebumps.

"What?" She said with the last breath in her lungs.

Genevieve touched the side of her face. "The Duke is no more, My Lady..." She bit her lips, "He got trapped under the rubble, and—"

Just before the rest of the sentences could reach her ears, Sylteena felt her head grow light as she lost coordination of her limbs, swaying forward—her body slumped into Philip's arms.

"My Lady!?"

They all rushed closer, lying her on her back as Philip cupped the side of her face.

Sylteena's ears were far from deaf as her vision began to blur.

"My Lady!? My Lady!!!"

Her eyes weighed shut as she slowly drifted into an unconscious state.

• • •

Under the somber, grey sky, the graveyard field stretched out as far as the eye could see. Noble and elite figures, dressed in mourning attire, stood in solemn formation, a sea of dark silhouettes against the overcast backdrop. The Duke, a revered figure of the state, had his final resting place laid beside that of his late wife.

As the elite gathered in hushed silence, the people of the state, too, joined in the collective grief that hung heavy in the air. Commoners from all walks of life, old and young, rich and poor, stood at a respectful distance. They knew that this moment transcended social boundaries, marking the passing of a man who had governed with wisdom and compassion.

The sound of mournful whispers and subdued sobs echoed through the field, a testament to the Duke's enduring legacy. It was a scene of both sorrow and unity, where a community united in their grief for their beloved Duke, whose memory would live on in the hearts and minds of all who gathered to bid him farewell on this grey and somber day.

But within the grieving chatter of condolences pierced the venomous gossip of spite, through the thin air.

One of the commoners began to whisper, "Duke's death was far from expected and predictable."

"Not to mention odd... A mine collapse? Really?", They tutted, "When was the last time something like that happened?"

"As powerful as the Duke's sorcery is, you'd least expect him to have been taken out by such an accident. He could have easily destroyed the rubbled before they crushed."

"But then again... That's what we thought about his wife's strength before she passed."

The arrows of glares darted in one direction at the front line.

They continued. "I am more than positive it had something to do with her..."

A few nodded with scrunched faces.

"She did kill her mother after all..."

"... Not to mention those diabolic eyes of hers and odd skin. I strongly believe she had a hand in all the misfortunes that have befallen our state in these past months."

"Inflation. Low farm produce. Dying animals. Disease outbreak. Now mine collapse. It can not all be a mere coincidence."

"Hmph! I guess now we will have to see what calamity she plans to cast upon us now that she has successfully killed other the Duke and Duchess."

Meanwhile, in the front row of the elite crowd, Sylteena stood with a lifeless expression as she stared down at the gravestone before them.

Her swollen eyes, incapable of blinking due to weakened facial muscles, left her hand hanging in the grasp of her late father's adviser, Philip.

Despite the distance from the commoners' crowd far behind, Sylteena could still feel the malevolent gazes piercing her from behind, but her entire body was too numb to react or shiver.

All throughout the ceremony, her body remained still as stone, and her expression, dull and blanched until the very end when the crowd began to disperse.

"My Lady?"

Sylteena heard a voice that her mind wasn't ready to recognize.

Philip slowly turned in the direction, along with her.

"Lady Pearson?" He bowed in respect.

Sylteena's tired eyes watched the Viscountess, Lady Genevieve, and her husband, the Viscount, Lord Pearson George, walk up to them.

They bowed, "My deepest condolences, My Lady," spoke the Viscount. A man of tall but slender stature and of equal height to his wife.

"I understand things must be so much on you now, My Lady."

And just as always after her father's death, Sylteena didn't speak a word.

Philip then spoke on her behalf, "Thank you, Lord and Lady Pearson. Her Lady is holding up to the best of her abilities."

They nodded.

"I know this may not be a good time, but allow me to introduce my children, My Lady," Genevieve slowly stepped aside, waving forth two children.

A girl and a boy of the age ten and twelve, with identical black hair and eye color, stepped forward to bow. "Your Lady," they greeted in unison.

"Katerina and Kingsley," Genevieve introduced.

Sylteena responded in silence. Philip smiled, "Her Lady is pleased to meet you both."

The children smiled.

"My Lady," Genevieve then stepped closer, "I am sure you are aware of the fact you are to relocate from the Duke's mansion." Once again, Philip answered for her, "She is, Lady Pearson."

"As you would know..." Genevieve smiled, "The Duke was far more than just my older cousin and Duke to me. He was my brother. A good one at that. And as his younger sister, I am responsible to care for what he loved the most now that he is no more."

Sylteena only stared.

"As much as this is for you to take in, I want you to know that you are always welcomed into our home as one of ours, My Lady. No matter what."

Once again, Sylteena remained mute.

Philip then nodded, "Her Lady is well aware of all that, Lady Pearson. She humbly accepts your invite and extends nothing but gratitude for your kindness and efforts."

Genevieve smiled, "Splendid to hear!"

"But she requests you give her a few more days to mourn her father within the walls of the only home she ever knew."

"That is no problem, Philip. She can take all the time she needs. I just want her to know we are here for her."

"She acknowledges that, Lady Pearson".

The Pearsons then lowered their heads to a subtle bow. "We will be on our way now, Philip," the Viscount, Lord George, stated before he and the rest of his family carefully retreated.

Philip's expression then saddened as he lowered his gaze to the girl in his grip. His heart broke at the sight of misery buried deep in her eyes as her face remained static.

He then cleared his throat to say, "Shall we, My Lady?" She simply followed his motion as they walked away in the direction of the carriage.

• • •

Fortunately for Sylteena, she moved into the Pearson household a week after the funeral, gaining nothing less than a warm family welcome from each and every one of them.

And to some extent, it was enough to soothe the hollow emptiness she thought she could never heal from within a year of stay.

... At least all until Lord and Lady Pearson were finally labeled the Duke and Duchess of Elfedon.

Only then did Sylteena truly understand the real grief her father's death had left behind...