The carriage rolled onward, leaving behind the lively, bustling square. I watched through the window as the scenery slowly shifted — the modest charm of the Commoners' District gave way to the polished elegance of the noble quarter. Cobblestone nes widened into marble-paved roads, and manicured gardens peeked from behind gilded gates.

  Before long, we reached a grand golden gate adorned with the crest of House Bourdelle. Our carriage glided through and followed a winding, tree-lined path that led straight to the entrance of Cece’s manor.

  However, something immediately caught my eye. Dozens of carriages were already parked neatly along the circur driveway.

  That’s odd, I thought, peering out the window. Why are there so many guests today?

  I had expected Cece’s first tea party to be a small, intimate affair — perhaps no more than ten guests at most. After all, she’d only just convinced her mother to let her host it. But judging by the number of carriages lined up outside the manor, it was already clear my assumptions were... wildly off.

  There had to be at least twenty guests, if not more.

  As our carriage came to a gentle stop, Dame Jan stepped out first before offering her hand to assist me down. The moment my feet touched the paved path, we were greeted with impeccable timing.

  “Lady Titania Voschell, it is our utmost pleasure to welcome you to Bourdelle’s Ducal Manor,” said Mister Alfonso, bowing low with practiced precision.

  The duchy’s head butler was a legend in noble circles — not just for his years of devoted service, but for the sharpness in his gaze that not even age had managed to dull. His posture was straight, his eyes observant, and his tone carried just the right amount of authority and warmth.

  I dipped into a curtsy, offering the proper greeting expected when attending an official noble event. “Thank you, Mister Alfonso. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

  He nodded approvingly before turning with a sweep of his gloved hand. “If you’ll follow me, my dy, Lady Celestine, is awaiting you in the garden. The other guests have already begun to arrive.”

  I gnced once more at the lined carriages, curiosity pricking at the back of my mind. Just who had Cece invited? And why did this suddenly feel much grander than what she had originally described?

  I followed Mister Alfonso as he led us through the manor’s grand hallways, his footsteps steady and measured against the polished floors. The architecture stretched out magnificently around us — lofty ceilings adorned with intricate moldings, and windows framed by heavy, embroidered drapery that swayed gently with the summer breeze.

  Although the Voschell manor was no less splendid in its own right, Bourdelle’s estate carried a different kind of weight — the kind built by centuries of tradition, whispered through every stone and pane of gss. It wasn't just wealth that spoke here, but generations of old, prestigious nobility.

  When we finally stepped outside, I was greeted by the sight of a perfectly manicured garden. Summer flowers bloomed in a dazzling array of colors, their delicate petals dancing lightly as the warm breeze passed by. The scent of roses, lics, and sun-warmed grass perfumed the air, making the whole scene feel almost dreamlike.

  Mister Alfonso came to a graceful stop, turning on his heel to bow. “We have arrived, Lady Titania,” he said with formal warmth.

  “Thank you, Mister Alfonso,” I replied, offering a small curtsy in return.

  Dame Jan also halted her steps. “I will remain nearby, young dy. Should you need anything, simply signal or speak to one of the attendants.”

  “Thank you as well, Dame Jan. Please feel free to rest and have some refreshments—the air is rather warm today,” I said, smiling as I turned toward the garden.

  As I approached, the tea garden revealed itself in full, breathtaking splendor.

  Rather than one grand table, several smaller ones were arranged across the emerald wn, each sheltered beneath its own canopy of soft ivory fabric. These were no ordinary canopies — their slender golden frames were entwined with trailing vines, woven through with fresh summer blooms in shades of blush, ivory, and pale violet. They arched elegantly overhead, forming living crowns of flowers that danced lightly in the warm breeze.

  Suspended from the center of each canopy hung delicate orb-like nterns, their frosted gss glimmering faintly. They were powered not by candlelight, but by embedded magic stones — enchantments that not only cast a soft, welcoming glow but also cooled the air beneath each tent, ensuring the guests would remain comfortable despite the summer heat.

  Beneath the canopies, tables draped in fine ce were set with polished china, crystal pitchers of cold tea and fruit water beaded with condensation, and bouquets that mirrored the surrounding blooms. Gilded chairs circled each table in cozy clusters, inviting conversation to flow freely from one gathering to the next.

  The gentle sound of trickling water floated through the air, leading my gaze toward a marble fountain nestled at the garden's heart. Crystal-clear water danced upwards in graceful arcs, sparkling like a shower of diamonds beneath the afternoon sun.

  Nearby, a harp sang a soft, lilting melody, its strings plucked by unseen magic. The music drifted through the tea garden like a silken thread, weaving seamlessly with the gentle ughter of the guests, the crystalline murmur of the fountain, the delicate clink of porcein, and the whisper of flowers swaying in the breeze.

  The entire scene shimmered with an effortless enchantment — as if the garden itself had come alive, determined to host a gathering no one would soon forget.

  Wow... Cece has truly outdone herself. I thought in awe as I took in the scene. This looks like something straight out of a romance fantasy novel!

  I let my gaze linger as I slowly wandered through the garden, drinking in every enchanting detail. The vibrant dresses of the young dies, the artful curls pinned in their hair, and the delicate parasols they twirled like blossoms in the breeze—all of it wove together into the whimsical, dreamlike setting Cece had so carefully imagined.

  Then, my attention drifted to the crowd itself. The gathering was rger than I expected—far too many guests to count on both hands. The garden brimmed with soft ughter, murmured pleasantries, and the gentle rustle of silk skirts gliding over the grass.

  It wasn’t long before I spotted Cece herself, standing beneath one of the canopies, already deep in conversation with a young dy I didn’t immediately recognize.

  I made my way toward her, my steps careful across the grass. As soon as I approached, I dipped into a curtsy and offered a formal greeting.

  "Thank you for the invitation, Lady Celestine," I said, my voice smooth and practiced.

  It felt a little strange, greeting Cece so formally, I thought with an inward chuckle. After all, I know this girl better than the back of my hand.

  Cece smiled brightly, slipping effortlessly into the polished tone expected for the occasion. "My pleasure, Lady Titania. And thank you for honoring us with your presence," she replied with graceful warmth.

  Cece turned toward the girl she’d been speaking with before I arrived, her smile bright and effortless.“This is Lady Ofelia Alvez,” Cece said, gesturing with a graceful sweep of her hand. “My mother’s niece—and the daughter of Marquis Alvez.”

  I offered a curtsy, dipping low in practiced grace. “Titania Voschell, daughter of Marquis Voschell. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Ofelia.”

  Ofelia returned the greeting with a polite nod—her posture fwless, her expression unreadable. No smile. No words. Just perfect poise and a veil of polite distance.

  Ah, I mused inwardly, so the quiet war of noble graces has already begun.

  It was my first time meeting Cece’s cousin—her kin from Aunt Regine’s side. The Alvez family, hailing from the distant south, had long receded from the bustle of court affairs, choosing instead to fortify their domain in quiet prosperity. Yet for all their absence in capital circles, their name had never faded.

  Now, with Ofelia appearing at a gathering like this... I couldn’t help but wonder if their silence was drawing to a close.

  Before I could dwell further, Cece, in true Cece fashion, tched onto my arm—and Ofelia’s as well—clearly intent on dragging us toward a nearby table.

  “Come! I’ll introduce you to everyone,” she chirped, practically vibrating with excitement.

  “Calm down, Cece,” I said with a ugh, letting myself be pulled along. But from the corner of my eye, I caught the faintest shift in Ofelia’s expression—her lips tightening ever so slightly, her gaze flickering downward. In one smooth, practiced motion, she slipped her arm free of Cece’s grasp.

  “I can walk myself,” she said coolly, adjusting her gloves and smoothing her dress with delicate precision.

  Cece paused, unfazed. “Alright then, follow us,” she replied breezily, still tugging me along like a prized guest on dispy.

  “I’m so excited for you to meet everyone,” she added, her voice full of promise and trouble as we wove deeper into the garden.

  We approached a table where three girls were seated, their delicate teacups resting atop embroidered linens, half-full with floral brews.

  “Are you all enjoying yourselves?” Cece asked brightly, her voice bubbling with hostess charm as we neared.

  “Indeed we are,” replied one of the girls, her smile reaching her eyes with practiced ease. The other two nodded along, their expressions warm, though measured—every gesture draped in genteel politeness.

  “That’s lovely to hear,” Cece beamed. “Allow me to introduce you both. This is Titania Voschell—she’s finally decided to grace us with her presence,” she said with pyful dramatics, giving my hand an affectionate squeeze, “and this is my cousin, Lady Ofelia Alvez, daughter of Marquis Alvez.”

  Ofelia’s nod came with effortless poise, though her thoughts remained impossible to discern.

  There was a brief pause—the kind that often settles when new names enter a room—and I felt the weight of curious gazes brushing against me, sizing me up in the subtle way noble daughters are trained to do from birth.

  In this world, one didn’t need to speak to leave an impression—one only had to enter a room and know how to hold the silence.

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