TO&FQ: Book 3: Chapter 13 (RAW)

Chapter 13 - Reunited

Lay this unto your breast: Old friends, like old swords, still are trusted best.

- John Webster.

Seraphina had sent Miriam and one of her Knights ahead to formally announce her arrival. If Miriam was not a complete dolt, and that was still up for debate, Lady Yanmei would have been informed well in advance by messenger. It wasn’t as though she were taking the de Laney household by complete surprise. As the carriage lumbered nearer the river's edge, Seraphina's keen eyes caught sight of queer pillars thrusting from the earth like the bones of some ancient beast unearthed by storm. Unnatural they were, shaped by no mortal mason's hand but by the whims of magic. Eloise had been honing her craft, it seemed

The carriage rolled to a halt before the main doors of the de Laney manse with a rattle of wheels and the soft clatter of hooves upon gravel. Tia fluttered to the window for a better view, peering out as the footman sprang down to open the door before settling on Seraphina’s soldier. Cornelia, wrapped around the young girl’s chest, hissed softly while still in a torpid state. 

Sir Frest opened the door for her as Seraphina stepped out with practiced grace, smoothing her skirts as her gaze swept the estate like a general surveying a field of battle: manicured paths, fresh-painted shutters, garden beds laid out in rigid Imperial lines that forced nature to grow to its demanding aesthetic.

Lady Yanmei awaited upon the steps, hands folded demurely before her like a priestess at prayer, clad in the subtle elegance of an imperial highborn—silks that clung without vulgarity, colors muted as dawn mist. Her face was a mask of sharp delicacy: almond eyes shadowed by slender brows, skin pale as fresh-fallen snow, features almost untouched by the ravages of time or the harsh glare of Aranthia's sun. An older version of her daughter Eloise, Lady Yanmei, reminded Seraphina of her own mother from her previous life—stirring a tangle of long-buried feelings she had left untouched for years.

"Lady Seraphina de Sariens," Yanmei intoned, dipping in a bow neither servile nor arrogant, the perfect measure of respect among equals who knew better. "Your presence graces our humble halls."

Unlike the toymaker's, her voice carried but the faintest echo of the Empire, like a spice lingering on the tongue after a feast.

Seraphina inclined her head in return. "The honor is mine, Lady Yanmei. A blessing to you and your family. Your estate is…" she glanced about, "...most charming. You have wrought wonders here."

Yanmei offered a modest smile, her voice touched a vague tinge of amusement. "It was truly dreadful when we first arrived. The old lord had been punished by the Heavens by the look of the place. King Elidion both blessed and cursed us. It took us months to make it livable—and longer still to bring it to something like grace. We’ve added a few improvements, of course, though the bones of the place are old."

"You’d never know it. The work shows," Seraphina said. Her eyes lingered on the carved lintels and lacquered door. "Where is the Lord Geron de Laney? I had hoped to pay my respects."

A slight shift of Yanmei’s expression, a practiced disappointment. "Most unfortunately, he is away on business in Aran. Matters of the trade. He sends his regrets, of course."

"I see," Seraphina replied, filing that away. "And my dearest friend, Eloise? Surely she's not still preparing for my arrival?"

Yanmei chuckled softly. "She’s about the town at present, gathering the ingredients for this evening’s dinner."

Seraphina raised a delicate brow. "Surely that’s a servant’s duty?"

"In the Empire," Yanmei replied smoothly, "it is the duty of the eldest daughter to understand the workings of the household. The running of things. I would see her know the price of the basic things before I allow her to spend coin like breath… You know, like the ladies of this land. Until very recently, after all, we were just a merchant family."

“Just” a merchant family, Seraphina thought, which in this case meant a massive trading house that spans the Empire, and the islands of Quas and Qis. Still, they weren’t quite as rich as Rashana’s family.

A few moments later, someone emerged from the mansion. Someone who could only have been Eloise’s brother.

“Sorry, I’m late,” he said with a slight grin.

"Ah, my youngest, Daeron," Yanmei announced, gesturing with the grace of a hostess unveiling a prized dish.

Daeron was typically handsome—the sort of easy good looks that emerge when East and West blend in just the right way. He had his mother’s almond eyes, a strong jawline, and a shock of brown hair that fell just so. In a few years, Seraphina could already tell, he would cause quite a stir among the court’s eligible daughters. It was a shame that he was younger.

“My lady,” the boy said, offering a sweeping bow.

Seraphina extended her hand, pale and ringed with gems. Daeron kissed the air above it, courtly as a troubadour's verse. From the corner of her eye, she spied Yanmei's composure crack—a fleeting surprise, like lightning in a clear sky.

It had been a calculated move—powerful in its subtlety. Seraphina doubted any of the old families would have extended such a gesture to those they still viewed as new “upstarts,” no matter how vast their coffers or polished their manners. And, being a foreigner, the young girl doubted that the Lady Yanmei had been made to feel to welcome at court.

Seraphina turned to the lady from the Empire. “And, if I may be so bold, where is my former tutor, Lord Beron?”

Yanmei’s smile widened ever so slightly, her expression touched with something almost wistful. “Off on one of his adventures, no doubt—gathering material for another of his books. We’ve long since learned to let him indulge such whims.”

Then, catching herself, she gave a gentle laugh. “But where are my manners? We can’t have you standing out here. Come, be welcome in my home. We’ll have tea in the sitting room.”

***

The interior of the manor was airy and bright, with high ceilings traced by delicate molding and tall windows draped in gauzy silks that caught the afternoon light. Sunbeams danced across polished floors of pale wood, warming the soft hues of cream and rose that adorned the walls. Framed ink paintings of bamboo groves, cranes in flight, and moonlit gardens hung with careful symmetry, their brushstrokes restrained yet evocative, each bearing the red seal of some long-dead master. Here and there, slender vases cradled arrangements of fresh blossoms, their scent mingling gently with the faint trace of incense from a nearby burner.

They were led into the sitting room—a tranquil chamber that spoke of refined taste. Pale green and ivory dominated the palette, with embroidered cushions scattered across a low divan and intricately carved chairs flanking a lacquered tea table. Tall bookshelves lined the far wall, their shelves filled with bound volumes and the occasional odd, weathered scroll. Above the fireplace hung a watercolor landscape of misty mountains, its colors soft and muted, as if seen through morning fog.

A quiet rustle announced the arrival of a team of servants, who swept in with silent efficiency. A polished tea set was placed on the table—delicate porcelain painted with birds and flowering trees. Alongside it came tiered trays of snacks and cakes: honeyed tarts, candied fruits, and white wafer-thin biscuits.

Lady Yanmei poured the tea herself, her hand steady and graceful as the steaming amber liquid filled Seraphina’s cup.

Seraphina raised it, breathing in the fragrant steam. “What a lovely aroma,” she said, then took a sip. “Floral… but not too sweet. It’s wonderful.”

Yanmei’s smile deepened. “From the Orange Hills, in the heartlands of the Empire. A favorite of mine.”

“I must get some for my mother,” Seraphina murmured.

Yanmei gave a soft chuckle. “I’ll see that some is prepared for you before you leave.”

For a time, they spoke of smaller things—the weather, the journey, the latest silliness at Meridian. Of Eloise’s time at the Academy. The kind of easy talk that filled the space between those who knew better than to speak of serious matters too quickly.

In a lull, the door creaked open.

The doll-like Eloise stepped in, her expression a mix of mild exasperation and practiced grace. Behind her, Sir Gravens followed with quiet dignity, his gloved hands resting atop the pommel of his sword. They bowed to Seraphina, who stayed in her seat like a queen, not much impressed.

Seraphina’s gaze lingered on him a beat longer than needed. “I was beginning to wonder where you had gone off to, Sir Gravens.”

The Knight gave a small bow. “My lady, I was only carrying out the orders you gave me: to protect and escort Lady Eloise.”

“Well,” Seraphina said with a smile that just touched the corner of her lips, “quite to the letter and spirit. Well done, I suppose.”

Beside him, Eloise blushed slightly.

Gravens offered a slight incline of his head. “Sir Gascoigne is with me. Sir Hadraine and Sir Philippe, meanwhile, have gone ahead to escort Lady Desdemona.”

A glimmer sparked in Seraphina’s eye. “Hadraine and Philippe have since returned to the Sariens Duchy. They're with me now, part of my escort detail. You will be glad to know that the Lady Desdemona is quite safe.”

Seraphina watched Eloise’s face for any reaction, but found none. Could it be that she had forgiven him already?

Lady Yanmei’s laughter was soft, like wind through reeds. “It does lift the mood, having such gallant company about the house.”

She turned to a nearby servant and gave a quiet instruction. “See that suitable quarters are found for the rest of Lady Seraphina’s escort. Be sure to let the stablemaster be informed.”

The servant bowed and slipped away with the practiced grace of those with long years of service.

The ladies were halfway through their second cups of tea when the door to the sitting room burst open with all the urgency of a palace summons.

“Eloise! You’ve got mail!” Daeron declared, breathless, holding up an envelope emblazoned with a wax seal.

Lady Yanmei turned her head slowly, her expression serene but not without pointed reproach. “Daeron,” she said in that dangerously pleasant tone only mothers seemed to master, “how many times must I remind you not to storm into rooms with ladies present like some Hazagadami boor?”

The boy froze mid-stride. A wash of pink rose across his cheeks. “I—I know. Sorry. But Eloise told me to let her know if anything came, and this one’s from the Academy.”

He held the letter out, still sheepish, and Eloise rose from her seat to accept it. “Thank you,” she said gently, sparing him a kind smile. “Finally!”

The seal was unmistakable: the stylized sunburst of the Meridian Academy, pressed into deep blue wax. With deft fingers, Eloise broke it open and unfolded the parchment within. Her eyes skimmed the contents, and her brows drew together.

“It’s a notice from the Academy,” she said after a beat. “The city of Meridian’s been declared safe again. The King’s men and many Adventurers have cleared the surrounding lands of Wyrmlings. All students are to return as soon as possible.”

Seraphina let out a quiet, indelicate sigh, her features tightening ever so slightly. “So much for a break,” she muttered to herself, lifting her teacup but not drinking. “The King, it seems, is always getting in my way.”

Setting the cup down with a soft clink, she turned to Lady Yanmei. “I suppose that means I also must return to Meridian. Lady de Laney, I had several items commissioned in town—mostly a few curious pieces that I asked to be sent to the de Laney estate when they were finished. With this sudden change to my schedule, would you be so kind as to forward them to the Academy when they arrive? I hope this is not imposing overly much.”

“Why, of course,” Yanmei said at once, her smile warm. “You are Eloise’s friend after all, and it would be a simple thing. And thank you, my dear, for buying something here. The craftsmen do appreciate such patronage.”

She took another sip of her tea, then cast a knowing glance between the girls. “I imagine you two have a great deal to catch up on,” she said lightly, rising from her seat. “And I believe I promised myself I’d finish that flower arrangement before dinner.”

As she turned to go, she reached for Daeron’s shoulder. “Come along, you.”

“But I…”

“No buts. We’ll leave the young ladies. What did I say about being a boor, my son?”

With a dramatic sigh and a wistful look back—though whether at the pastries or at her or Eloise, Seraphina could not tell—Daeron allowed himself to be ushered out, and the door clicked softly shut behind them, leaving the two girls alone in the sitting room.

Now, away from her mother and free of the burden of proper decorum, Eloise seized Seraphina’s hands and all but squealed.

“I was so worried about you! All Gravens and the others would say was that you were off doing something important to save Meridian. Then I saw the lights—streaking and flashing across the sky—and the giant Dragon!”

Seraphina offered a soft smile. “I was quite fine, darling. I was just making sure that—”

But before she could finish, Eloise threw her arms around her in a fierce, sudden hug. There was no pretense in it, no performance. No veiled courtly grace. Just raw, honest affection.

Eloise smelled of spring sunshine and flowers. She must be using new soap.

“I’m sure you were doing more than that,” Eloise murmured into her shoulder. “But you don’t have to explain. I know you have your reasons—just as my father has his. Secrets come with the territory.”

Seraphina blinked, her arms lifting to return the hug at last. She felt the damp spread on her left shoulder and held her peace.