After the morning meal, Amelia excused herself quietly. She did not wish to linger in the tense atmosphere of the dining hall, especially with Celina's eyes still burning holes into her from across the table. Carrying the invitation in her hand, she went instead to the library.
The Harrowind library was not large compared to those of higher-ranking noble houses, but it was filled with shelves of practical volumes on court etiquette, trade, and history. Amelia chose a few well-worn books and set them on the table. She turned the pages slowly, absorbing every detail.
Proper conduct during a royal tea gathering: always wait for the hostess to begin before lifting one's cup.
When spoken to by royalty, never answer too quickly; take a breath, and respond calmly.
Avoid controversial topics: politics, military matters, or gossip about the nobility.
Amelia read with focus. She had already seen how easily people in this world were judged and cast aside. If she was going to survive here, she could not afford even the smallest mistake. She kept notes in the margins on a scrap of parchment, repeating the lines softly to herself until she could recall them without looking.
When she finally closed the last book, the sun had risen higher, casting slanted beams through the windows. Amelia stretched lightly and gathered her things. She felt more confident, even if only by a small degree.
Leaving the library, she passed through the drawing room on her way to the staircase. That was when she heard laughter—sharp, familiar, and unpleasant.
Celina was seated with two of her closest companions, Lady Catherine and Lady Marine. Amelia froze for a brief moment when her eyes landed on them. The same two who had shoved her near the balcony during the coming-of-age ceremony. For an instant, her chest tightened with anger.
Celina leaned toward the others, speaking in that high, amused tone she always used when gossiping. Amelia could hear her clearly even from the entrance.
"She must have begged someone for it. How else would Amelia get a royal invitation?" Celina said with a scoff.
Lady Catherine smirked. "It has always been you, Celina. Everyone knows the princess favors you."
"Exactly," Celina replied, tapping her fan against her knee. "It is simply unfair. She doesn't belong in such company. She can barely walk through a hall without stumbling, let alone converse with royalty."
The words stung, but Amelia stood her ground. She clenched her fists at her sides. For a moment, she considered stepping forward and confronting them. But she stopped herself. That would be what they wanted—to see her lose composure, to give them something to mock.
Instead, Amelia turned on her heel and walked briskly back upstairs. She went straight to her room, shutting the door behind her.
Beatrice, her maid, was tidying near the dresser when Amelia entered. Seeing the expression on Amelia's face, she straightened quickly. "My lady? Did something happen?"
Amelia sat down at her writing desk and let out a slow breath. "Celina and her friends," she said. "The same ones from the ceremony. They're downstairs gossiping about me as though I'm not even human."
Beatrice's lips tightened. She had never liked Celina, and her loyalty was firmly with Amelia. "They'll never stop unless you show them you are not weak, my lady."
Amelia tilted her head slightly, a faint smile appearing. "That's exactly what I intend to do."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Beatrice, today, let's make their lives just a little less comfortable."
Beatrice blinked, then a grin spread slowly across her face. "What do you have in mind?"
Amelia tapped her fingers lightly on the desk. "They asked for refreshments, didn't they? Let's give them something… unexpected."
Beatrice caught on quickly. "Leave it to me."
Within the hour, a servant was indeed sent to fetch refreshments for the three ladies lounging in the drawing room. The order came from Celina herself, who always liked to be served properly when she had guests.
Tea was prepared, along with a plate of biscuits. The tray was covered with a polished iron lid to keep everything neat. But this time, tucked beneath the cover, something else waited.
When the maid carried the tray in and set it on the table before the ladies, Celina barely looked up from her gossiping. She waved her hand lazily. "At last. I was beginning to wonder if this house had forgotten how to serve properly."
The maid bowed slightly, placing the tray down. She lifted the iron cover, stepping back politely as she revealed the tea set and biscuits. None of the three noticed the small brown rat that darted out from beneath the lifted cover.
It scurried across the table, knocking into a spoon before leaping down onto the carpet.
Lady Marine was the first to see it. Her shriek pierced the air. "A rat! There's a rat!"
Celina's head whipped around. When her eyes landed on the creature scrambling across the carpet, her composure shattered. She jumped to her feet, clutching her skirts. "Kill it! Someone kill it at once!"
Lady Catherine scrambled onto the sofa, pulling her dress out of the way, her voice joining the chorus of panic. "Oh heavens, keep it away from me!"
The maid who had brought the tray stumbled back, equally startled. She had not expected such a thing.
The drawing room, once filled with smug gossip, now rang with the frantic screams of three young noblewomen who moments ago had mocked Amelia without restraint.
And at the far end of the room, just outside the doorway, Amelia stood watching. She leaned against the frame, her lips curved into a quiet smile. She didn't speak loudly, but the satisfaction in her voice carried enough for Beatrice, who stood beside her, to hear.
"This," Amelia said softly, "is just the beginning."
After the screams echoed through the drawing room, one of the servants rushed in — it was the butler's son, Thomas. He was calm compared to the commotion around him. With quick hands, he grabbed a cloth and caught the rat, removing it before anyone else could faint or cry louder.
The two young ladies clung to each other, pale from the shock. Celina, however, was fuming. She could not shake the sight of Amelia standing in the back, smiling faintly as though she had planned the whole thing.
Celina clenched her fists and stormed out of the room without another word. She ignored the greetings of the passing maids and went straight to her mother's chambers. Bursting inside, she found Lady Geneva seated at her dressing table, her maid pinning jewels into her hair.
"Mother!" Celina cried, her voice tight with anger. "Amelia ruined everything. She's making me look like a fool in front of my friends."
Lady Geneva turned slowly, giving her daughter a long look. "What happened this time?"
Celina crossed her arms. "We were sitting in the drawing room, and somehow a rat appeared on the table — right where the refreshments were served! It was chaos. My friends screamed, and Thomas came to handle it, but Amelia was standing at the back, smiling. I know she had something to do with it."
Geneva tapped her fingers against the armrest. "And you're certain it was Amelia?"
"I know it was her," Celina said firmly. Then she leaned in closer. "Also, I noticed the butler's son — Thomas — he was looking at Amelia. Not just once, but several times. I think he's checking her out."
That seemed to catch Lady Geneva's attention. Her lips curved into a slow smile. She dismissed her maid with a wave of her hand, waiting until the room was clear before speaking.
"You've done well to notice that," Geneva said softly. "If that boy's eyes are indeed on Amelia, then we can use it. Men are weak when it comes to women, even servants. If Amelia starts getting involved with someone beneath her status, especially a servant, it will ruin her image entirely. The Viscount will have no choice but to side with us."
Celina's eyes lit up. "So what should we do, Mother?"
Lady Geneva stood, adjusting her gown in the mirror before turning back to her daughter. "Leave it to me. For now, act as though nothing has happened. Continue playing the perfect daughter. Let Amelia dig her own grave."
Celina smirked, her anger easing. "Yes, Mother."
Lady Geneva placed a hand on her shoulder. "Remember, Celina, patience. Amelia may think she's clever, but we are smarter. The more she tries to play games, the easier it will be for us to destroy her."
Celina nodded, already imagining Amelia humiliated.
Meanwhile, back in her room, Amelia sat with Beatrice, both of them still amused at how well their plan had worked. Amelia leaned back in her chair, her smile fading slightly.
Beatrice grinned. "Lady Amelia, you should have seen Celina's face when that rat came out. She looked like she was about to faint!"
Amelia gave a short laugh but then grew serious. She could sense this battle was far from over. Celina would not sit quietly, and Lady Geneva was likely already plotting something.
Amelia tapped her fingers against the desk. Let them come. I'll be ready this time.