The Lionesses' Tea, A Lord's Lament

Bloom galloped off into the distance while Julian sat still by the bank of the pond. She moved with an elegance that defied separation, and to an observer, she and her horse might have appeared to be one cohesive whole. His thoughts strayed to the information she had disclosed regarding Drake Clearbrook and her history.

How could someone so young suffer such a tragedy? She was not even nineteen, but she had already experienced the brief pleasures of marriage and children before her entire family was taken from her in a matter of years. The idea tormented him.

In these turbulent times, love was a scarce and brittle commodity. Julian was infuriated to learn that it had been destroyed by someone like Clearbrook, a man who had the ability to step in but had decided not to. His fists uncontrollably clenched. Though the comments did little to calm his annoyance, he told himself that he had received what was rightfully his. At this point, there is nothing I can do.

However, the picture of Bloom's tears and her unadulterated, blinding agony hung over him like a specter. Seeing someone he so greatly respected and admired go through such suffering was intolerable.

More than anyone he had ever met, including his fellow soldiers at the Front, he did admire her. Bloom was a unique individual: courageous, astute, and consistently compassionate. Despite their rejection and contempt, she showed empathy to the residents of her community. She suffered the burden of a life without her family that must have felt like constant agony, but she never faltered in her courage. She pushed forward every day as though she was certain that something would change—that there was goodness and sunshine ahead.

Julian thought that the fact that she lived while her family perished must be causing her to drown in guilt. Nevertheless, she dragged through life, held up by the shaky ties of her few surviving family members and friends.

Something deep inside him was moved by that tenacity. He loved it in everyone, whether they were a human being, a man, a lady, a nobleman, or even a cute rabbit with pink polka dots. He was drawn more and more to Bloom as a person, despite her occasional harshness and sharp tongue. She had been his best friend in a matter of days. He wanted to be her friend in return, but she refused to let anyone close to her.

Not once more, he thought solemnly. She has already suffered too much pain. She will never have faith in anyone, even a noble who appears to be compassionate.

Then he sighed deeply and stood up. To his side, Duck, his faithful mount, splashed through the shallow water. Julian whispered, "Come on, old boy," and patted the horse's flank. "Let's go home."

He went to his chamber when he got back to the manor, but his mother stopped him before he could get to the stairs.

"Cherfield, Julian Devin Phoenix!" Like a razor, her voice sliced through the atmosphere. "Where have you been? Furthermore, what on earth have you done to your clothing? I promised to meet Mayor Jonah Pickett when he asked for an audience with you, but you never showed up. Two hours have passed since then. He just got back from his trip. Be polite! Immediately change into something attractive and move quickly. Julian, you would be wise to keep in mind that, as Lord Hartfield, business never waits for anyone.

Julian frowned, growing impatient. Then dismiss him. I'm busy.

With a whirlwind of rage on her face, she blocked his way as he tried to brush by her. With an unyielding tone, she ordered, "You will change and be in that hall in five minutes." "No justifications. Power comes with responsibility, and you will either fulfill it or risk losing it completely, young man. Do I express myself clearly?

He looked at her defiantly for a moment, but her determination was stronger than his. Unflinching, he hurried to his room while ranting to himself about the obstinate women who appeared to control his life.

He reminded himself that friends were more important than routine business. The mayor could wait for whatever he wanted, unless... Halfway through his sleeve, he froze. What if the prior meeting had been brought about by Pickett? He was reminded of the charges made against Bloom by the community, which he had forgotten during the chaos of the day. He cursed under his breath and accelerated. Bloom might be able to go back to town sooner rather than later if he could figure this out. He hastily finished dressing, pulling the tunic over his head.

Julian called it the Grand Throne Room, a vast hall with no chairs except for a high dais at one end, where Jonah Pickett waited for him. In order to intimidate, the platform made sure the lord towered over any supplicant. Julian went up the stairs and stood where he was.

The mayor lowered himself into a bow. "Good afternoon, milord," he said in a respectful tone.

"Good afternoon," said Julian calmly. "To whom do I owe this meeting's pleasure?"

Pickett stood up straight, his gaze darting around the room uneasily. "Well, we've run into some issues, Milired. In the last two weeks, four killings had occurred, all of which had... peculiar circumstances.

"Unusual?" Julian arched a brow and pressed.

"We—we have reason to suspect magic, milord. Witchcraft."

"I understand."

As he spoke quickly, Pickett said, "The people of Armanda believe it's the witch who calls herself Bloom." She never leaves her yard alone and is always gone by herself. We believe that she is involved.

Julian cocked his head. And these four killings—I think they were all girls who had been raped. Is that right?

The mayor's eyes widened in surprise at Julian's knowledge, but he dared not inquire where it came from. "Yes, sir. It's accurate. All young girls, about eighteen years old.

With an inscrutable expression, Julian nodded. "And you believe that this young lady kidnapped, sexually assaulted, and killed them."

Pickett shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other and stuttered, "Er, yes."

"Do you have evidence?"

With a stutter, the mayor said, "No, milord." However, we've taken measures to prevent the witch from leaving town, and—

Julian cut in, his voice rising like fury, "you have no proof, yet you still condemn her? Punishing someone who isn't a major suspect in this way is illegal. Leave the unfortunate woman alone, and don't come back to me without solid proof. If it's fake, I'll know. Have I been understood?

Pickett recoiled, clearly frightened. Julian was furious and enraged. The mayor squeaked, "Yes, milord.

"Then leave."

Pickett hurried from the room, bowing hastily. With a protective heat burning in his chest, Julian scowled after him.

How could Bloom have earned this? Nothing. She merely wanted to help others in her own quiet, special manner, but hardly one even recognized her efforts, much less validated her purported skills.

A wave of melancholy swept over him as he ascended the stairs to his room, and he thought, "No wonder she doesn't trust anyone." Nobody offers her an excuse.

He could just make out the dim form of Bloom's cottage roof in the distance from his tower window. "I'll gain her trust," he said. I already know her deepest secrets, and she needs pals. I'll demonstrate that I'll protect them.