Cece was already waiting in the sitting room when we arrived, seated with the poised elegance of a duchess-in-training—one who had long since mastered the subtle art of making others feel fashionably te. She closed the book in her p with quiet precision, gaze lifting to meet ours—cool, amused, and ever so slightly smug.

  Beside her, Rein was in the midst of annihiting a pastry, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk mid-hoard. Crumbs clung to his tunic, and a generous smear of cream decorated the corner of his mouth. His nanny hovered faithfully nearby, dabbing at him with a linen handkerchief and the air of someone who had long resigned herself to a life of chasing sugar trails.

  “Gd you came sooner,” Cece said lightly, setting down her teacup and lifting a delicate fork with polished grace. “I was just about to offer the st of the cakes to Rein.”

  “This cake’s sooo sweet!” Rein chirped through a mouthful, unching a confetti of crumbs into his p. He beamed at us, pure delight radiating from his tiny, frosting-coated form.

  “Eat slowly, young master,” his nanny murmured, catching another rogue smear before it reached his colr.

  “Cece,” I said, pcing a hand over my heart with theatrical offense, “never use cake as a threat again. My soul briefly ascended when Cherry delivered your message.”

  Cece gave a nguid shrug, completely unrepentant. “That’s precisely why I said it. You only move quickly for dessert emergencies, and Eri only lets you go when there’s a crisis.”

  Eri flopped onto the cushions beside me with a groan. “You’re so maniputive.”

  “I prefer the term strategically efficient,” Cece replied with a serene smile—completely composed, as if she hadn’t just weaponized a strawberry shortcake to break us free from an insect dungeon.

  Just as I reached for the st, glorious slice, a small hand darted out—Rein’s, of course—snatching the pte with breathtaking audacity.

  “Rein,” I said, trying for stern but nding somewhere between desperate and betrayed. “That one’s mine. You already had yours.”

  His eyes shimmered instantly, big and watery like he was summoning tears from the deepest emotional reservoir he possessed.

  Panic. Full-blown panic.

  “Forgive your sister, Rein!” I blurted. “You see, this is the only time I get to eat cake. How about I buy you a picture book? One with stars! Or magical beasts! Or both!”

  He tilted his head, visibly calcuting.

  “Hmm... okay! But you have to read it for me too.”

  “Done. Pinky promise.”

  We sealed the truce, and at long st, I took a bite of my cake—soft, fluffy, sweet beyond reason, and absolutely worth the chaos.

  “Nia,” Cece sighed, shaking her head as if I were a lost cause, “your greatest weakness is now on full dispy.”

  She set down her fork with the gravity of someone delivering a state address. “We shouldn’t parade our vulnerabilities, especially ones so... easily exploited. Imagine if someone with less noble intentions used it against you. Like I just did.”

  “Don’t worry, Cece,” I replied, savoring another spoonful like it was a reward from the heavens. “It’s not like I’ll be frequenting court salons or mingling with gossip mongers anytime soon.”

  I leaned back, thoroughly content. “The only people I really talk to are already in this room. You. Eri. And Rein, who mostly discusses stars and snacks.”

  Cece blinked, aghast, as though I’d just confessed to social treason.

  “I’m not going to hide who I am to impress people I don’t intend to keep around,” I added, licking the final trace of cream from my spoon.

  Cece looked personally offended. “That is... not how court life works.”

  “Exactly,” I said with a grin. “Which is why I’m opting out.”

  “Same!” Eri chirped, kicking her feet against the couch. “I’d rather spend all day with my favorite people than sit with nobles who can’t even tell the difference between a grasshopper and a locust. Like—how do they not know that? It's basic bug 101.”

  Cece and I shared a look.

  “Eri,” she said dryly, “only you know the difference.”

  I understood where Cece was coming from. With the Social Season fast approaching, the weight of her family's rank and responsibilities was already pressing down. She was preparing for teas, gatherings, and polished introductions—the curated rites of passage for girls of our age. Meanwhile, Eri and I remained blissfully cocooned in our own little world, unbothered and untouched by the gilded dance beyond these walls.

  But I knew that wouldn’t st forever. Sooner or ter, duty would call—even to those of us who didn’t answer the door.

  Still… for now, I intend to enjoy every second of our freedom.

  Cece let out a sigh and gave us both a look—the kind that came with equal parts fondness and exasperation.

  “You know,” she said, folding her hands primly in her p, “you’ll have to come to one of these tea parties with me soon. It’s good practice. For our future. And besides...” She cleared her throat, a suspicious twinkle in her eye. “We might have our fateful encounter.”

  A high-pitched squeal cut through the air like a startled bird.

  “Kyaaah!”

  We all turned in sync.

  There stood Laura—Jane’s younger sister and Cece’s newest attendant—frozen near the tea cart, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with unfiltered secondhand excitement. Clearly, she’d failed at pretending not to eavesdrop.

  After Cece’s previous maid, Mary, returned to her hometown to marry, Jane had confidently vouched for Laura as a repcement. And now here she was, looking like she’d just witnessed the start of a romance novel.

  “I—I’m so sorry, young dies,” Laura stammered, bowing quickly, hands flying to her mouth.

  Behind her, Jane arched a brow and gave her a “you’re not subtle, but I warned you” sort of look.

  Cece, of course, looked entirely smug.

  Well, I thought, looks like Cece’s finally found someone to gush with who won’t interrupt her halfway through.

  “Cece, I already had my fated encounter,” Eri announced breezily, lifting her teacup with both hands like it was a sacred chalice. “I successfully hatched a Shadowlume Sylph this morning. I even showed it to Nia earlier.”

  She took a dainty sip of tea, then added with a dreamy sigh, “It was magical. I’ll show it to you ter—it shimmered like dusk in motion.”

  Cece blinked once, twice, then gave a long-suffering sigh and rolled her eyes with the precision of someone used to this exact nonsense. “That’s not what I meant, Eri,” she said ftly. “I’m talking about romantic fate. People. Suitors.”

  Eri simply shrugged. “Well, technically, the Sylph chose me. Isn’t that what fate is?”

  Cece looked like she was rethinking every life decision that had led her to this moment. “We’re supposed to decide who our fated ones are, not leave it to enchanted insects.”

  I couldn’t help but smirk. “Even if you do want to choose, Cece... would your parents actually let you? Knowing them, that might be easier said than done.”

  Cece lifted her chin with regal defiance. “If they refuse to respect my wishes, I’ll do exactly what Aunt Alie and Aunt Elle did—I’ll cross the sea, travel to a different continent, and find my own fated one.”

  “I will fully support you, young dy!” Laura piped up from her corner post, positively sparkling with enthusiasm.

  Oh no. I could already picture Mother’s expression. Another runaway noble in the making.

  Here we go again, I thought, internally groaning.

  “Let’s all take a deep breath,” I said, setting my spoon down. “Cece, maybe don’t pn your grand romantic exodus just yet. If Uncle Chryses and Aunt Regine overheard you talking like this, I swear they’d faint on the spot. And you, Laura—calm yourself. You’re encouraging her.”

  Laura covered her mouth, eyes wide, though a smile still peeked through her fingers.

  Cece, predictably, looked utterly unbothered and a little too pleased with herself.

  “Honestly,” I muttered, leaning back into my chair, “this room is one strawberry shortcake away from a full-blown noble scandal.”

  “Anyway,” Cece began, smoothing her skirt with effortless grace, “you two will need to attend at least one tea party with me.”

  She spoke so lightly, so elegantly, it almost sounded like a suggestion—almost.

  “I’ve already received several invitations,” she continued, her voice brightening with quiet excitement. “And I asked Mother if I could host one myself—just a small gathering for young dies.”

  Then came the telltale gleam in her eyes.

  “The timing couldn’t be better—with the Knight Tournament bringing in plenty of guests and attention..” and maybe a few eligible heirs wandering the gardens.”

  She took a delicate sip of tea, giving us both a look that said this is happening.

  Judging by that look—and the way she made the announcement sound like it had already been printed on the invitations—I knew one thing for certain: Eri and I were absolutely going. No questions. No escape.

  And honestly… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. There would be sweets, after all — and if all else failed, I could busy myself by sampling every dessert within reach.

  Toward the end of the table, Rein had already succumbed to a sugar crash, curled up against a cushion with crumbs clinging stubbornly to his cheek.

  Some of us were fretting over tea parties and fated encounters. Others just needed a nap.

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