Chapter 22
Camélia woke that morning with an unfamiliar energy—almost feverish. For the first time in a long while, her reflection in the mirror returned a sincere smile: bright, genuine, almost childish. She stared at it for a moment, surprised, her cheeks tinged with emotion. Such spontaneity was not something she usually allowed herself.
Raised within the rigid mold of high society, Camélia had learned from a very young age to master every expression, every gesture. Showing too much joy, sorrow, or enthusiasm could be seen as weakness—or worse, a breach of decorum. Her face, usually impassive or politely pleasant, rarely revealed anything beyond what was expected of a future princess.
"Good morning, my lady!" Mira exclaimed as she entered the room, followed closely by Coralie. "You look… radiant today! Is something making you particularly happy?" she asked, genuinely surprised—and delighted.
"I have an appointment… a rather important one," Camélia replied, turning her gaze aside, slightly embarrassed by her own blush.
Coralie raised her brows faintly, unsettled.
"But my lady, I received no notice of any meeting with another Lady or any social engagement," she said, exchanging a worried look with Mira.
Camélia let out a soft laugh and shook her head. Since the incident involving Prince Edgar, her attendants—and even her friends—no longer dared voice their concerns aloud, yet their anxiety showed in every careful movement. The scandal had swept through the capital's salons. According to rumor, the prince had cast her aside for being too distant, too authoritative. It was said he had been seduced by Angela's candid charm and angelic sweetness.
Angela, though somewhat awkward within elite circles—the so-called Salons of Young Nobility—had begun to gather a growing network of silent supporters. Many lesser noble families saw her as an opportunity worth seizing.
"I made a friend during my last visit to the palace," Camélia explained simply, as Mira and Coralie helped her into her dress.
"Oh, divine Providence! I'm so happy for you, my lady!" Mira exclaimed, clasping her hands to her chest.
Coralie, more reserved but equally sincere, nodded.
"May I ask, my lady… which family does this friend belong to?" she asked cautiously, her hands continuing their practiced work.
Camélia smiled softly, letting herself be lulled by the familiar gestures.
"She is not of noble birth," she replied, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "But she is far more precious than many young marquesses and countesses I have known since childhood."
She saw the two young women exchange a surprised glance, but neither pressed further. They knew their mistress well enough to understand that when Camélia chose to protect someone, she did so with unwavering loyalty.
Camélia adjusted the wide satin ribbon holding her half-up hairstyle, a few white strands framing her delicate face. Her dress was modest compared to her usual attire, yet no less elegant. The cream bodice with a high collar and puffed sleeves was adorned with small sky-blue bows, matching her delicately embroidered apron bearing a crowned motif. The ensemble evoked refined softness—far removed from the heavy hoop skirts, pearls, and rigid corsets she was accustomed to. For the first time in a long while, she felt light… and pretty.
"You look beautiful, my lady," Mira murmured sincerely. "I'll have the carriage prepared. We'll meet you again after breakfast."
Camélia nodded, still slightly astonished by her own reflection. This feeling of freedom was strange. She had met Vidalia only a few days ago… and yet something within her had already changed.
She giggled softly as she left her room, then descended toward the dining hall, her skirt fluttering lightly around her ankles with each step.
"Good morning, Father. Good morning, Mother," she greeted politely upon entering.
Seated at the table were the Duke and Duchess of Greenwood. Vesper, an imposing man with perfectly combed white hair, maintained his usual grave expression, his indigo eyes fixed on his daughter in surprise. Beside him, Enora—the most beautiful woman in the Empire, a duchess famed for her grace, long pearlescent pink hair, and clear blue eyes—had frozen mid-motion, her spoon hovering in the air. They exchanged a glance, blinking.
Has something happened to our princess? Enora wondered anxiously.
"What's gotten into you, Camélia?" Vesper asked bluntly, as was his habit.
He was immediately met with a discreet kick beneath the table from his wife.
"Nothing particularly different… I think," replied the twelve-year-old girl calmly, spreading a bit of jam onto her bread.
"My dear, it's rare to see you without your heavy gowns and all those jewels," Enora said tenderly. "But you're so beautiful, my princess… And you seem so relaxed!" she added, tears welling in her eyes.
Vesper, despite his impassive face, set his cutlery down and studied her for a long moment.
"Are you going somewhere?" he asked—only to be kicked again under the table.
"I'm spending the day in the city with my new friend," Camélia announced, blushing faintly.
"Really? Is it Lady Henrietta?" Enora asked, suddenly excited.
"No, Mother. Her name is Vida. And before you ask… she isn't of high birth."
Silence fell for a moment. Enora's eyes widened in surprise, but Vesper allowed a thin smile to appear. His daughter—so serious, always chasing perfection—was finally daring to step off the beaten path. He had always worried about her. Seeing her so joyful, so… childlike, filled him with happiness.
"That is wonderful news," he said simply, his voice softer than usual. "Enjoy yourself, my dear. A friend who makes you smile is worth more than all the titles in the world."
Enora burst into tears.
"Thank you, Father," Camélia replied, mimicking his stoic expression with playful precision.
"My little girl is growing up!" the duchess sobbed, throwing her arms around her daughter. The steward Giovanni approached quietly, offering her a handkerchief.
"Giovanni, did you see? Our little princess is growing up!"
"I did, madam—and I am deeply moved," he replied with a gentle smile.
"My dear, we would be honored to meet this young lady someday," Enora said after dabbing her eyes.
"Perhaps one day, Father. I promise," Camélia replied, finishing her tea.
She rose, leaned in to kiss her mother—but Enora clung to her as though she might be torn away.
"Where is your older brother?" Camélia asked gently.
"Caius left for the palace early this morning," Vesper replied.
"I see. I'll be on my way now. Until later," she said, leaving the room light and radiant under her family's tender gaze.
Camélia slipped into her fine wool hooded cloak, silk-lined and cream-colored, which Mira adjusted over her shoulders with delicate care. The flowing fabric, embroidered with discreet silver arabesques along the cuffs and hood, draped perfectly over her modest dress, concealing her noble silhouette without weighing it down.
Together, they descended the manor steps and crossed the courtyard toward a plain carriage of dark wood, its coat of arms deliberately absent—only a small floral engraving along the edge betrayed its refined origin. No insignia marked it as Greenwood property: a clear sign of an incognito outing.
Adeline was already there, standing tall and alert. She wore a brown tailored jacket with reinforced seams over an ivory low-collared shirt, paired with fitted dark suede riding trousers, flexible and practical. A simple leather belt secured an unadorned scabbard holding a blackened steel sword. Though discreet, her attire retained the disciplined aura of elite knights—without the solemnity of their official white uniform.
Camélia offered her a gentle smile.
"Good morning, Adeline."
"Good morning, Lady Camélia," the guard replied, bowing slightly before helping her into the carriage.
Once seated, the horses set off.
"We're going to the Grand Ether Agora today," Camélia announced calmly.
Mira, seated opposite her, lifted her chin slightly.
"Do you have an appointment at Alice's salon, my lady?" she asked curiously, hands folded in her lap.
Camélia turned her face toward the window. Her blue eyes followed the slowly passing streets, bathed in the soft morning light.
"No," she said simply. The corner of her lips curved into a discreet, almost secret smile. "At a grilled meat stall."
Mira stared at her young mistress, wide-eyed—then smiled.
The carriage stopped at the Grand Ether Agora, a vast square as lively as ever. Four colossal statues of the First Elemental Masters towered over the colorful crowd of merchants, passersby, and strolling nobles, while luxurious stalls and ancient-inspired buildings lined the plaza with grandeur.
Seated near the door, Mira frowned anxiously. The sun beat down with unusual intensity, and the density of the crowd—mixing commoners and aristocrats in constant bustle—only deepened her concern. The idea of her young mistress navigating such a sea of people made her uneasy.
Her attention was drawn to an unusual gathering—nobles in fine dress and ordinary townsfolk alike—captivated by the same sight. She was pulled from her thoughts by Lady Camélia's calm, decisive voice.
"This is where we stop," Camélia said, her gaze fixed on the center of the crowd.
Mira turned toward her, stunned, but Adeline acted immediately, signaling the coachman to halt before stepping down to open the door and assist her mistress.
"My lady, this could be dangerous—" Mira protested, hurrying after them.
"Don't worry," Camélia replied with an enigmatic smile. "I know exactly what has drawn all these eyes."
They soon reached the edge of the circle formed by onlookers. Mira, still reeling, finally saw the cause of the commotion—and her breath caught.
At the center stood a child of unreal beauty. Long midnight-blue hair, threaded with lighter reflections, cascaded in silken waves over her shoulders, framing a delicate heart-shaped face. Her skin was milky white, almost translucent; her pale lashes thick and soft; and her eyes—brilliant emeralds—seemed to promise an entire fairy world within them.
Mira, who had served at Greenwood Manor for many years, remembered vividly her first meeting with Lady Enora and young Camélia, both rare beauties in their own right. But this child… she surpassed all standards. She felt like a being of another essence—luminous and soothing.
A gentle, captivating aura emanated from her, easing worries and dissolving tension through mere presence.
"Vidalia is free today," Camélia said with quiet tenderness—clear enough to shock Mira anew, her eyes widening further.
For indeed, her young mistress had just—without warning—made herself a new ally.
And what an extraordinary one.