Hidden Talents, Veiled Threats

Before the tea the following morning, Julian went downstairs to see Bloom. Over his second breakfast of the day, a plate of toast and eggs, he begged, "Are you sure you don't want to come?" "I don't think I can handle Clarissa Bartlett the Contemptuous by myself."

Bloom gave a snort. And include myself among the lionesses? I don't believe so.

Julian smiled. "A fitting description." She could have accompanied him sooner, if only to agitate the "lionesses" and cause controversy. He recognized the sound of that Bloom. Her eyes had changed from guarded regard to the timid beginnings of friendliness, however, since yesterday.

He recognized the brittleness of her confidence. Knowing full well that another break could break her beyond repair, she was giving him her heart on a silver platter. He would need to walk very carefully.

“How did you get to be such a good cook?” he said around a mouthful of yolk as he shoved another chunk of egg into his lips.

She reprimanded, "Don't talk with your mouth full." Additionally, everyone learns to cook when they have no one else to do it for them, as strange as that may sound to you.

Her snark caused Julian to roll his eyes. "Ha, ha. However, even you are unable to make bread like this. Are you also able to magic bread?

She said simply, "It's all in the wheat."

He took a few more bites and tried again. "Are you certain—?"

"I'm positive," she interrupted. "If you paid me, I wouldn't go there."

He let out a sigh. "It was worthwhile to try."

Her eyes glistened with laughter as she chided, "You could have tried harder than that." "Enjoy your time with the lionesses."

"Obviously," he said drearily.

"You also don't have to help me clean up," she said softly. "I've grown up. I can take care of myself. Go observe the attractive women. You'd better pay carefully since I expect a description that includes every last detail of their embroidery. Ta ta.

Julian slipped out through the orchard, her laughter following him, unwilling to stay and put up with any more of Bloom's scathing comments about nobility. As he went by, apples gave him a light prod, as though to encourage him to continue. He muttered, "Bloom, stop it," convinced that he could hear her ringing laughter reverberating through the trees.

In spite of himself, he smiled. She had come across as normal enough before sharing her story, jaded and snarky but normal. However, he had not previously recognized the slight grief that was hanging to her since that realization. She skillfully concealed it; only by being aware of her past could he perceive the remnants of rage and anxiety.

But now she was grinning once more, which was encouraging. It would help her heal on the inside, something she still had to do.

When he arrived at the manor, he skillfully steered clear of his mother and headed for his room. There he changed into tea-appropriate clothes, a leaf-green tunic with silver embellishments, a pristine white shirt, and loose navy blue breeches—Harpford colors.

Julian stopped outside the dining hall and took a big breath. Now it was time to confront the lionesses, as Bloom had so eloquently called them.

He didn't think of himself as attractive—quite the opposite. Harpford's position as one of the richest noble estates in the realm, closely associated with the royal dynasty, was the actual problem. He didn't want to think about the fact that King Willard was his second or third cousin. But it was inevitable in times like this.

Women like Clarissa Bartlett prized him because of that heritage. Being already a lord, he had complete control over his fortune and territories, and they believed that any lady he choose would also have a great deal of power.

They would be incessantly swarming him.

He heard girlish talk and giggling outside the dining hall doors. He let out a sigh, wishing he could have spent the day with Bloom. She refused to swoon over him. It was not only improbable, but unimaginable.

There was silence as soon as he opened the doors. His mother and all the other women in the room rose and dropped into elegant curtsies. In response, he made a refined courtly bow.

He said, "Welcome to my home," with ease. "I hope my mom has made sure you're comfortable. I hope your stay at our modest estates is enjoyable. He secretly hoped that they would leave after a day rather than staying for two or three days if they felt that the manor was inadequate.

An ethereal hope.

His mother, a few of her friends, and their daughters made up the eleven women that occupied the room. All four of the younger ones had high hopes.

Julian sat at the head of the table and observed the ladies settling in and starting to talk again. Near him, the four eligible women gathered. Elena of Cresta was sitting next to Clarissa Bartlett, who was seated directly to his right. Bryony, Marquessa of Amethyst, sat opposite Elena, and to his left stood Countess Jocelyn of Emberton. Julian felt pity for her gentle, reserved manner while her father, the marquis, lay dying.

Clarissa Bartlett turned to face him with a radiant pearly smile as soon as he swallowed his first piece of biscuit. She was thin and poised, of normal height, and she knew it was lovely. Her lips were red as a rose, her complexion was as pale as frost, and her hair was straight as a pin and black as coal. There was an icy coldness in her moon-blue, silvery eyes. Her eyes did not curve warmly, but her mouth did. Julian held back a chill.

She purred in a low, musical voice, "So, my lord, one hears you've acquired a new pet."

“Is that so?” he asked politely, trying to hide his discomfort. "I wonder where you might have heard such a thing."

She grinned broadly. "My lord, mere servant chatter. However, I've heard that she has a peculiar name—perhaps a fruit? She gave a deep, throaty laugh.

Panic seized him for a brief period. Was she aware of Bloom? He dismissed it. "Yes," he responded quietly, "a little peasant girl." "A gardener." That plant over there was given to my mother by her. He pointed to the bartana with the blue belly.

She must be an amazing gardener, thought Clarissa Bartlett. "I've heard that growing bartanas, particularly the blue ones, is extremely challenging."

Elena of Cresta interrupted, "Yes." Wouldn't it be worthwhile to consult with someone who could grow such a plant, Clarissa Bartlett? If nothing else, to learn her gardening tricks.

Clarissa Bartlett tilted her head in the direction of the small blonde. "Ellen of Cresta, well said."

Countess Jocelyn of Emberton sneered, "Commoners aren't worth a noble's time." They are only there to entertain and serve us. We are superior than them.

"Enough," Clarissa Bartlett said with ease. However, we still need to develop these skills for our own enjoyment. You would be wise to avoid that one, my lord. My late cousin told me that purple-eyed witches would destroy our carpets. She gave a glass-tinkling laugh. She was joined by Countess Jocelyn of Emberton, but Elena of Cresta scowled and Bryony, Marquessa of Amethyst, gazed impassively.

Julian was stuck to his seat by anger. Clarissa Bartlett was aware of her cousin's transgressions, the three fatalities, and the destruction they caused. She might have seen it herself, and he wouldn't rule it out. Still, she sat there giggling.

It makes sense why Bloom trusted so few.

Clarissa Bartlett grinned even more. "Let's say my cousin was a little... interested in presents."

Elena of Cresta, directing the topic in a different direction, remarked, "My family has never used magic." Her tone was tight with controlled rage. “But I hear your uncle has a gift, Bryony, Marquessa of Amethyst.”

The Marquessa of Amethyst, Bryony, whispered, "Yes." "Growth and gardening." However, after his daughter disappeared some 20 years ago, the line dwindled. It crushed my aunt's heart. My uncle passed away shortly after my cousin Annelise was born, and their subsequent children had no signs of the skill.

Julian became more focused. She had mentioned gardening.

“What a shame,” said Clarissa Bartlett. Every surviving child carries on my family's legacy of inspiring and weaving visions. the ability to deceive.

There was silence among the four women. Then, "I'd heard rumors of that," dared Countess Jocelyn of Emberton. Is that accurate?

The smile of Clarissa Bartlett became triumphant. "Every word."

Her features started to change, slowly at first, without Julian noticing. However, he jumped when he saw Bloom's sun-kissed face and purple eyes staring at him from Clarissa Bartlett's seat. Clarissa Bartlett changed back, laughing.

Julian felt a knot of dread in his chest. Bloom could be in danger.

Elena of Cresta quickly changed the subject, her uneasiness reflecting his. Julian became disinterested and wished he could get away. The afternoon was heavy and never-ending.