Chapter 23
Camélia stepped forward gracefully toward the little girl sitting alone on a stone bench, slightly withdrawn from the crowd. Head lowered, legs gently swinging in the air, the child seemed untouched by the fascinated gazes converging on her.
"Are you waiting for someone, miss?" Camélia asked lightly, almost teasingly—her sudden familiarity startling Mira.
The girl lifted her head abruptly, emerald eyes wide with surprise, before a radiant smile lit up her face. A wave of admiration rippled through the crowd—and even Camélia's two companions couldn't suppress a soft gasp.
Annoyed by such blatant lack of discretion, Camélia narrowed her eyes toward the indiscreet onlookers.
"Yes! You!" Vidalia exclaimed joyfully before throwing herself into the arms of the white-haired girl, catching her off guard.
Momentarily startled, Camélia relaxed at once and held her close, smiling fondly.
"You're so beautiful…" Vidalia whispered, her voice trembling with wonder.
Camélia chuckled softly, touched by such candor.
"You are too, Lia. You're radiant," she replied sincerely. "I'm glad you took off your veil."
"Arzhel opened my eyes!" the child explained, taking her hand without hesitation. "Since no one here knows my face, I can finally be myself outside!"
Camélia arched an intrigued brow. Arzhel… The name rang a bell. Wasn't that the friend Vidalia had mentioned in passing?
"Arzhel—is he the friend you told me about?" she asked gently. "Where is he? Why did he leave you here alone?"
A cold glint crossed her eyes. If this Arzhel had been careless with Vidalia, he would quickly learn that one does not harm a Greenwood's friend without consequence.
"He went to get something in that building over there," Vidalia replied, pointing toward the tall stone structure housing the Merchants' Guild.
Camélia raised her eyebrows. That guild fell directly under the Grand Duke's jurisdiction. Entering it without authorization was a privilege few possessed. Just how old was this mysterious Arzhel? Was he from an influential noble house? Or did he wield an authority even she failed to grasp? Camélia studied her friend uneasily—no one without considerable backing could pass through those doors unchallenged.
"Lia… who are your friends?" Vidalia suddenly murmured, blushing as she cast a discreet glance toward the two women standing nearby.
Camélia felt her heart tighten. Yes. She had to protect her. At all costs.
"This is Adeline Sinclair, my personal guard, and Mira Langley, my lady's companion," she said, slightly embarrassed. "I couldn't leave without an escort. I hope you'll forgive me."
Vidalia shook her head with a gentle smile.
"That's perfectly normal. You're not just anyone, Camélia. I wouldn't expect anything less from a Greenwood!" she said with quiet pride.
Camélia gazed at her, deeply moved. Vidalia was a treasure. Perhaps it was best not to mention the hidden guards stationed around the square, watching from the shadows. That detail could wait.
"And besides— the more, the merrier!" Vidalia added cheerfully. "Nice to meet you! I'm Vidalia… just Vidalia," she repeated after a brief hesitation.
Camélia's heart clenched softly at those words.
"I'm honored to meet you, Miss Vidalia," Mira said, still a little shaken but genuinely touched.
"A pleasure," Adeline added, straight-backed and formal, though warmth lingered in her voice.
Vidalia flushed even more deeply and looked away, flustered by the formality.
"I said… just Vidalia," she murmured shyly.
And Camélia, throat tight, could only marvel at this new light that had entered her life.
She observed the scene with heightened awareness. Vidalia stood between her and her companions, glowing with simple, sincere joy. Her smile alone seemed to erase everything else—even the restless bustle of the square.
But Camélia's mind remained alert. Arzhel. The name was not spoken lightly. It surfaced often, gently, on Vidalia's lips. With unmistakable affection.
A boy. A friend, she claimed. But how many friends inspired such trust? What child would leave Vidalia alone in the Grand Agora to… what? Buy something at the Merchants' Guild? What kind of child walked so easily into a building under the crown's direct authority?
Camélia suppressed a doubtful frown. Perhaps he was the heir of one of the great merchant clans. Or worse—a reckless fool. A dangerous one. She disliked riddles when they brushed against those she wished to protect.
Vidalia deserved tenderness. Stability. Not uncertainty.
"I see," she said evenly. "I hope he won't be long."
She gently tightened her fingers around Vidalia's—small, warm, delicate—and took a quiet breath. The crowd's attention had waned, likely disappointed by the lack of spectacle.
Camélia brushed a strand of hair behind the girl's ear, the gesture slow, almost maternal.
She's too luminous for this world, she thought. Too beautiful, too pure. If this Arzhel proves unworthy of her trust… he'll regret it.
At that precise moment, she made a silent vow.
She would watch over Vidalia. Like a sister. Like a guardian. As the daughter of Duke Vesper must.
"Oh! He's coming!" Vidalia exclaimed, waving eagerly.
Camélia followed her gaze. A hooded figure approached—slow, almost spectral. A shiver ran down her spine. Her instincts screamed. This icy, brutal, almost animal sensation was something she had never felt before.
She stepped back instinctively, drawing Vidalia behind her. Adeline reacted instantly, placing herself between them and the stranger, steel-hard gaze locked on him.
Camélia gathered a breath of energy, ready to summon the wind if necessary.
The boy stopped before them. Head tilted, a crooked smile on his lips, he let a clear yet unnervingly calm voice slip free.
"Hello?"
His deep red eyes glinted with something unreadable.
Camélia tightened her grip on Vidalia's hand. He couldn't be more than thirteen, yet he radiated something far older—far more unsettling. His ash-gray hair streaked with blood-red highlights seemed born of legends… or nightmares.
"What's wrong, Camélia?" Vidalia asked, worried by her silence.
"Nothing. It's just… is this your friend?" she asked carefully.
"Yes! Arzhel, this is Camélia! And her friends, Adeline and Mira!" Vidalia said brightly as she stepped closer to the boy.
And then… Camélia witnessed the impossible.
The dark, threatening aura vanished. Dissolved. Arzhel's gaze softened into pure devotion. Everything about him exuded delighted submission.
Camélia exchanged an alarmed look with her companions. Her heart pounded.
"Pleased to finally meet you," she said calmly and politely. "Vidalia has spoken of you often."
"So have you!" Arzhel replied with a mischievous grin. "Today is special. Let's not ruin it with mistakes."
A threat disguised as friendliness. Camélia perceived it instantly. Arzhel was no ordinary boy. But one thing was obvious—he was utterly, irrevocably infatuated with Vidalia.
He addressed her familiarly, without hesitation. Camélia let it pass.
"With pleasure," she replied evenly, signaling Adeline to lower her guard. The knight obeyed reluctantly. Mira discreetly concealed her daggers, never taking her eyes off Arzhel.
"We're celebrating Vidalia's birthday! I'm going to make it unforgettable—it's the first time she's celebrating it outside the estate!" Arzhel announced proudly, handing Vidalia a bulging pouch.
Camélia's eyes widened. "It's your birthday?!"
Warmth—and panic—flooded her. She hadn't prepared anything!
Vidalia shook her head shyly. "It's in two days… but since I'm spending the week at my grandfather's and uncle's, we're celebrating today."
Camélia let out a discreet sigh of relief. Not negligence—just a misunderstanding of dates. Still, it changed nothing. This day had to be special.
Vidalia opened the pouch, then closed it instantly, stunned.
Camélia raised an eyebrow. "What is it, Lia?"
"What is all this, Arzhel?" the girl whispered, eyes round.
He looked at her with a smug smile, mischief dancing in his gaze.
"A small sum for today. Your real gift will be delivered directly to the viscount."
Camélia glanced inside. A hundred gold coins. A fortune. Her eyes widened.
"Small? Gift?! Arzhel, you don't spend a sum like this on a whim! This could feed a family for nine years! Where did you get this gold? You're only an apprentice mage!" Vidalia cried indignantly.
He was hiding something. Camélia was certain.
Arzhel remained unfazed.
"Nothing is too good for my Lia," he purred, eyes locked lovingly on the girl.
He is in love. And probably obsessed, Camélia noted with concern.
Vidalia flushed from head to toe and looked away, speechless.
Camélia smiled softly, touched. My sister, my precious pearl… I'll watch over you.
"I know exactly how to invest this fortune," she declared, taking the pouch and Vidalia's hand.
She saw Arzhel's eyes gleam at the contact.
"We're going to choose beautiful dresses, accessories, everything you like."
She headed straight toward a boutique renowned among well-bred young ladies.
"What an excellent idea!" Arzhel exclaimed enthusiastically.
Yes. He was in love. And obsessed.
Camélia didn't yet know whether that would be a blessing… or a danger to come.
"Lia, I don't think it's necessary to choose such extravagant dresses…" Vidalia protested softly, cheeks already pink with embarrassment.
Camélia ignored her with a satisfied smile, tightening her hold on her hand.
"Hush. Today, you're the queen. Let me handle it."
The crystal bell chimed as they crossed the shop's threshold. The air smelled of roses and lavender; sumptuous fabrics shimmered beneath golden chandeliers. Three elegantly dressed saleswomen immediately bowed.
"Miss Camélia, what an honor."
"We wish to dress my friend for a very special occasion. She must shine."
Vidalia, still veiled, lowered her eyes shyly. Arzhel settled lazily into a velvet chair, perfectly at ease, eyes never leaving her.
Hands on her hips, Camélia announced, "Ladies, bring me your finest creations. Pastels, delicate embroidery, soft pearls. I want gentleness, grace, and a touch of magic."
The staff moved swiftly. A screen was set up, and Vidalia—red as a peony—was ushered away to try on dresses. The parade began.
The first gown was a marvel of cream tulle embroidered with lilac flowers, sheer sleeves, and a heart-shaped bodice adorned with fine beading. A slim amethyst belt accentuated her waist.
"Oh…" Arzhel breathed, standing rigid, mouth slightly open. Camélia crossed her arms, satisfied.
"Good, but not perfect. Next."
The second was a pale blue—almost silver—its fabric flowing like living water. Fine pearls cascaded from the skirt, and a diaphanous veil draped from her shoulders.
Vidalia stood awkwardly, fingers knotted. "I'm afraid I'll ruin it… it's too beautiful."
"Don't say that. It simply does you justice," Camélia said proudly.
The third gown drew a shiver from Arzhel: a soft sea-green embroidered with pale gold thread, a square neckline framing her collarbone, and a light train sewn with silk flowers. A delicate tiara crowned her dark hair; simple opal earrings were added.
Vidalia stood straighter now—still shy, but transformed.
Camélia nodded. "This one. It reveals her softness without erasing her."
Arzhel rose slowly, as if afraid to shatter the moment. "You're… unreal."
Vidalia blushed to the tips of her ears. "I… I'm not used to all this…"
"And yet you wear it better than any noble," he replied with unsettling sincerity.
Camélia cleared her throat, breaking the heavy atmosphere. "And now—accessories! A necklace, gloves, a matching fan. Perhaps even a small perfume."
Vidalia protested weakly, "It's not a real ball…"
"Exactly. It's your first birthday in freedom. Let me make it unforgettable."
As accessories were chosen—a necklace of iridescent pearls, short white silk gloves, a floral fan—Camélia observed Arzhel's unwavering gaze. Every sigh. Every spark. Every intense look.
And a thought took root: He loves her. Strangely. Possessively, perhaps. But sincerely, in his own way.
She would have to keep an eye on this boy.
After several fittings as delicate as petals, Camélia raised a hand.
"Enough silk. Lia isn't a porcelain doll—she's a rare pearl. She needs outfits that reveal her light, not just her softness."
She gestured to an attendant. "Bring me more modern pieces. Noble cuts, but relaxed. Something a young lady would wear while going out incognito."
"You mean like you," Arzhel said lightly.
Camélia raised a brow without turning. "I mean like us—when we want to breathe beyond pompous salons."
He stood, hands in pockets. "It's adorable watching you play protective big sister… but I think I know Lia far better than you imagine."
"Knowing is not owning, Arzhel," Camélia replied softly—but sharply.
Vidalia, caught between them, lowered her eyes, clutching her skirt. She hated feeling torn—even though she knew they both only wanted to protect her, each in their own way.
The next outfits were simpler yet no less elegant.
A midnight-blue ensemble—a fitted embroidered linen tunic with long sleeves, soft periwinkle trousers, and a short hooded cape—won unanimous approval. A thin silver-buckled belt evoked ocean waves.
Another, lighter outfit featured a cream officer-collar blouse, a glacier-blue skirt slit at the knee, and a short navy coat lined with satin, paired with soft leather ankle boots.
"Perfect. You look like a young heiress on a secret stroll," Camélia said, adjusting the belt.
"You look like the Vidalia I've always seen," Arzhel added quietly, eyes shining. "The one who's always been beautiful—even covered in dust."
Vidalia blushed deeply and turned away.
Camélia handed her the midnight-blue outfit. "Go change. Today isn't the servant's day. It's yours."
Vidalia hesitated, then nodded. She disappeared behind the screen. When she emerged, the contrast was striking. She looked taller. More confident. The veil was gone; her dark hair, braided neatly, gleamed in the light.
Arzhel stood speechless. So did Camélia—but she smiled, proud.
"You're ready to conquer this day, Lia."
Vidalia took a step. Then another. She looked at her bare hands, her blue tunic, her reflection.
She whispered shyly, "Thank you. Both of you."
Arzhel draped a light coat over her shoulders. "Come on. It's your first birthday outside. Time to write your memories."
Camélia inhaled deeply.
I won't let you fall into this boy's shadow, Lia. But I'll let you choose.
Even if it scares me.