The morning mist clung to the garden in silver threads, curling around the edges of teacups and wicker baskets as sunlight slowly filtered through the orchard trees. A long table had been set beneath the budding canopies, soft cloths draped over, platters of berry preserves, toasts, warm honeyed rolls, and a bubbling pot of spiced tea nestled at the center.
The air smelled of citrus and ash, the fire from last night having died down to a scent rather than a presence.
Acacia sat between Lyra and Begonia, listening to the light chatter as everyone trickled in, sleep still soft on their features, but their laughter louder now, as if something had subtly shifted the night before.
Dominic passed Irene the sugared butter without being asked. Lyra leaned into Astor's shoulder while mock-arguing about the correct way to eat sweet bread. Argan's fingers brushed Acacia's wrist when he passed her a folded napkin, light, but steady.
Then, Sienna clapped her hands.
"Before everyone scatters back to their precious estates and endless duties.." she said, voice bright with mischief, "I vote we go boating!"
Several heads turned.
"There's a lake just a bit past the forest," she continued, eyes sparkling. "Quiet. Clear. Still. Let's spend a little more time not being nobles and heirs and house advisors. Just… us."
"I'm in," Astor said immediately, raising his hand with mock solemnity. "Provided I get to row one of the boats. I row like a god."
"You row like a goose," lyra quipped, nudging him. "But yes, let's go. I want to see if the lily pads are blooming yet."
Myron gave a small, agreeable nod. "The air's perfect for it."
Dominic, halfway through a sip of tea, paused, then shrugged lightly. "...Could be relaxing."
Begonia glanced at him, then murmured, "If you don't push someone in this time."
He smirked. "No promises."
Argan leaned forward, elbows on the table. "Are there enough boats for all of us?"
"There will be," Lyra grinned. "We're not at war."
"I can help prep them," Seren offered, stretching his arms overhead. "That lake was my secret spot once upon a time."
Irene tilted her head. "...You've already lost your chance to impress anyone by calling it your secret spot in front of ten people."
He grinned. "Too late. I'm already dazzling."
Laughter rippled around the table, soft and unhurried.
Acacia smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Then I suppose… we're all going?"
"All in," Lyra confirmed.
And just like that, with bellies full and hearts lighter than they had been in a long while they rose from the breakfast table, leaving their plates behind to chase the sound of water and sun-dappled wind.
The lake lay just beyond the forest's edge, It stretched wide and still, the surface glassy and pale blue, mirroring the sky above. A willow tree leaned lazily over the water's edge, its long tendrils kissing the ripples. Several rowboats bobbed against a simple wooden dock, tied loosely, swaying with the breeze. Morning light danced across the surface, catching every ripple like spilled gold.
The carriages rolled in one by one, wheels crunching softly over the gravel path. Horses snorted as they came to a halt beside the trimmed embankment. Laughter spilled from open windows as doors were thrown open, boots hitting the ground with the energy of a group too well-rested and too excited for restraint.
Lyra was the first to step down, her braid swinging behind her as she broke into a grin. "Isn't it perfect?" she exclaimed, arms outstretched as if to hug the view.
"Everyone knows the rule," Sienna called out. "No racing unless someone's prepared to swim."
"And no wagers unless you're willing to lose," Astor added with a grin, immediately earning an eye-roll from Irene.
Acacia, watching all of them with quiet wonder, didn't realize Argan had appeared beside her until he handed her a folded blanket. "For when the wind turns cold."
She turned to him, startled but touched. "Thank you."
He didn't reply, just offered the faintest smile and stepped back into the group, far enough to disappear, close enough to watch.
And somewhere across the clearing, Seren's gaze lingered on the same moment, unreadable.
They split into three boats, each vessel bobbing gently as it was loaded with a tangle of blankets, baskets and personalities.
The first boat rocked slightly as Lyra stepped in with practiced ease, followed by Sienna, all grace and energy, and then Dominic and Myron, both offering quiet balance to the spirited girls. The atmosphere in their boat was a bubbling mix of teasing remarks and comfortable camaraderie. Sienna had already begun recounting how she once tried to row with a parasol and Lyra was daring Dominic to steer blindfolded, just for fun.
In the second boat, Argan sat at the rear, rowing with easy strength as Begonia leaned back beside him, the breeze tugging loose strands of her hair. Irene sat poised near the front, her parasol shading her elegantly, but there was a soft curve to her lips that betrayed her amusement. The conversation flowed like water, book recommendations, spring flowers, and a rather poetic debate on the superiority of mountain air over sea breeze.
And in the third boat, Acacia dipped her fingers into the lake, the coolness slipping over her skin like memory. Astor lounged at the back, rowing with one hand and using the other to fan himself dramatically with a folded napkin. Acacia found herself smiling more than she expected, their boat carried by calm waters and easy conversation. Seren, ever watchful, sat upright and composed but he seemed to relax gradually, his sharp eyes softened by sunlight, and the way they occasionally lingered on Acacia when he thought she wasn't looking. But she noticed. And once, when she looked back, caught him mid-glance, neither of them looked away at once. Just for a second, the moment held, unspoken and full. Then Seren looked down, lips curving slightly.
But peace, as it often does among spirited youth, never lingered too long.
"This is starting to feel a little too tranquil," Astor declared, after sometime, dramatically stifling a yawn. "Like a painting in a grandmother's drawing room."
From the boat behind, Sienna cupped her hands and shouted across the water, "Then let's make it exciting, Lord Philosopher! I challenge you to a race!"
That caught everyone's attention.
Lyra sat upright, instantly. "Oh, we're doing this?"
Sienna said, "Absolutely. Let's race!"
Myron groaned good-naturedly, "Here we go."
"Where do we begin?" Argan called out, amused, while Begonia rolled her eyes with a fond sigh.
"We'll start from this end," Begonia said, pointing to the cherry tree leaning out over the water. "Paddle all the way around that small island," she gestured to a patch of reeds and clustered trees ahead, "and the first boat to circle back to the floating dock wins."
"What do we get if we win?" Seren asked mildly, already adjusting his posture to prepare.
"Bragging rights, naturally," Sienna answered. "And the first pick of desserts when we get back."
Astor perked up. "If there's lemon custard involved, I'll row like my life depends on it."
"Then we're doomed," Seren said dryly, earning a ripple of laughter.
Sienna whooped. "Prepare yourselves, mortals. The queen of racing has arrived."
Dominic, seated beside her, exchanged a long-suffering look with Myron.
"Oars up!" Astor cried with delight, already positioning theirs. "This is going to be gloriously chaotic."
The race began in a flurry of laughter and splashing oars.
Sunlight scattered over the lake's gentle ripples, casting silver-gold shards across the surface. The trees along the shore stood like sentinels, their new spring leaves fluttering as cheers echoed from boat to boat.
Three vessels cut through the water
Lyra, Dominic, Myron, and Sienna in one, their strokes loud and full of competitive chaos. Sienna's laughter bounced off the lake as she splashed Myron deliberately, shouting, "Focus, sailor!"
In the second boat, Argan, Begonia, and Irene worked in a smooth rhythm. Irene remained composed, but there was a quiet fire in her eyes. Begonia's face was flushed with wind and effort, and Argan's smile, rare and genuine, glinted in the sun.
In the third boat, Acacia sat between Astor and Seren. Astor, as expected, did more dramatics than rowing, complaining every few strokes while Seren silently corrected the course with precision.
"You're barely moving your oar," Seren said flatly.
"I'm offering moral support," Astor shot back, then turned to Acacia. "Are you enjoying your scenic descent into competitive madness?"
She laughed, "Yes". The moment felt warm, real.
A while later, they were circling back towards the dock now, three boats weaving closer, laughter thinning into breathless focus. Water churned beneath them but Acacia felt the world slow for just a second.
She glanced to her right, Argan's boat drawing nearer, their oars gliding with calm efficiency. Ahead, Dominic's group veered slightly off-course, too fast, too sharp.
Wind tousled her hair. A drop of water hit her cheek.
And then, an odd sound. Not quite a splash. More like the groan of wood scraping against wood.
She turned her head, instinct prickling, just in time to see Argan's boat catching theirs at the wrong angle.
Across from her, Seren had stilled. His gaze, usually unreadable, sharpened suddenly, locked on her with an intensity that made her breath catch.
A jolt.
A tremble underfoot.
Astor shouted something…
But it was too late.
The boat tilted.
And the lake swallowed her whole.