The morning sun spilled gently across the Valemont gardens, turning the dew on the hedges into tiny beads of light. The air was crisp, scented with jasmine and rose. Seraphina had gone out early to tend to her mother's lilies, her hands dusted with soil, her gown brushed with sunlight.
A carriage arrived at the gate, the sound of wheels crunching over gravel. She looked up just as Lord Devan Althier stepped down, his familiar "mile warm against the cool morning air.
"Lady Seraphina," he greeted, bowing slightly. "I hope I'm not intruding."
"Not at all, my lord," she said, dusting her hands on her apron. "You've arrived at the perfect hour. The gardens are at their best before noon."
He glanced around, taking in the sprawling estate — the marble fountain, the pale roses climbing the trellis. "Indeed," he said. "It's a wonder how peaceful Valemont appears. One would almost forget the world beyond its gates."
Seraphina smiled faintly. "That's Mother's doing. She insists peace must be grown, not found."
Devan chuckled, his gaze sweeping across the flowers. "Then she must be an excellent gardener."
"She is," Seraphina said softly. "Though I believe she'd say the same of you, if she heard such flattery."
They shared an easy laugh — light, harmless, touched with warmth. Devan then asked about her sister, his tone casual.
"Does Lady Selene still spend her mornings in study?"
"She does," Seraphina said. "Though not always in the same mood as her books. She prefers to sit by the east window, where the light falls just right."
He smiled, adjusting his gloves. "Then perhaps I shall pay my respects to her before I go. It's been some time since we last spoke."
"Of course," Seraphina replied, stepping aside. "You'll find the hall through the garden doors."
As Devan walked away, the warmth of his presence seemed to fade with the crunch of gravel beneath his boots. Seraphina turned back to her flowers, but something made her glance toward the manor.
There, behind the lace curtains of the east window, stood Selene — motionless, watching.
Their eyes met for only an instant before Selene stepped back, the curtain falling closed.
Seraphina froze, the morning's calm suddenly sharp and cold. She couldn't tell whether her sister's look had been curious… or accusing.
Lord Devan entered the manor, the cool shade of the corridor a welcome contrast to the brightness outside. A servant announced him, and moments later, he was shown into the drawing room.
Lady Selene Valemont was waiting there, seated beside the tall windows. Sunlight poured around her, gilding her hair in soft gold. She rose with graceful composure when he entered.
"My lord," she greeted, her smile composed and charming. "How very unexpected."
"Lady Selene," he said, bowing slightly. "I was nearby and thought to call. It's been far too long since my last visit."
"Too long indeed," she said, gesturing toward the chair opposite her. "Please, sit. You'll find the morning air here far gentler than in the city."
"I can see that," he said, taking his seat. "The peace here feels almost… rare."
Selene laughed lightly. "Rare? We like to think it's cultivated. Mother believes a quiet home keeps one's thoughts orderly."
"Then she's a wise woman," Devan replied. "I had the pleasure of meeting your sister outside. She seems quite devoted to her garden."
Selene's eyes flickered, a delicate change that most would have missed. "Yes," she said. "Seraphina has always liked the company of things that don't talk back."
Devan smiled politely, unsure whether it was jest or jab. "She keeps a beautiful garden."
"She does," Selene said, sipping her tea. "But she rarely leaves it. I suppose each of us finds our comfort somewhere — hers among petals, mine among people."
The remark was casual, yet edged, like silk hiding a blade. Devan shifted slightly in his seat.
After a pause, Selene's tone lightened. "But let us speak of livelier things, my lord. Tell me, have you come from the hunting lodge? The roads must be dreadful after last night's rain."
"They were," he said with a faint smile. "But the countryside was worth it. I'd forgotten how lovely the Valemont hills are this season."
"Then you must see them properly," Selene said, rising. "The paths beyond the orchard are breathtaking after the rains. If you're not too weary from travel, we could ride this afternoon. Seraphina will join us."
"I'd be honored," Devan said. "It's been some time since I've ridden in such company."
"Then it's settled."
She crossed to the window, the hem of her gown brushing the floor, and drew the curtain slightly aside. Below, in the garden, Seraphina knelt among the flowers, her head bowed over the blooms.
For a moment, Selene's expression softened — then hardened again into something distant, unreadable.
"You see?" she said quietly. "She's still there. She'll lose all sense of time once the flowers have her attention."
Devan joined her at the window, following her gaze. "She seems at peace."
Selene's lips curved faintly. "Peace isn't always what it seems."
When she turned, her eyes caught his, bright and sharp beneath the calm. "Meet us by the stables in half an hour. I'll tell her you're joining us."
He inclined his head. "As you wish."
When Devan left, his footsteps echoing down the marble hall, Selene remained at the window. She watched him disappear through the garden path toward the stables, then lowered her gaze once more.
Seraphina was still there — serene, unknowing, framed in sunlight.
Selene rested her hand on the glass, her reflection mingling with her sister's image below. Two faces — nearly identical, yet never quite the same.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"Half an hour," she whispered. "Let's see which of us he'll notice first."