Snow Fox Fur

Lady Senna arrived carrying the chill of the first winter snow from House Valerius.

Swallowed by a white fur mantle, her crimson eyes contrasted sharply with her pastel-blue hair. She sank into a flawless curtsy, looking like a frost-rose blooming in the Great Hall, and won over the room. The traditionalists approved of her manners, while Dorian’s faction viewed the girl as a harmless distraction.

True to his word, Cael handled his new fiancée with grace. He slipped into the role of the gentleman, offering a practiced smile as he extended his arm. To the court, it was a fairy tale.

Yet, Veila found her eyebrows twitching. Listening to Senna chuckle at Cael's dry jokes, Veila crossed her arms, her tail lashing. She had agreed to this strategy. Why was it so infuriating to watch?

Veila's ears twitched just before Prince Dorian arrived at her side. 

At ease with his tunic undone, he swirled a glass of dark wine. “Mind if I accompany you, Lady Veila?” Dorian purred. “You seem bored out of your mind now that Prince Cael is otherwise occupied.”

Cael’s warning echoed in her mind: Do not engage with Dorian's taunts. 

She offered a placid smile. “I am quite content standing on my own, Your Highness. I am simply glad to see my client so pleased with his arrangement.”

Stepping a fraction too close, Dorian’s amber eyes locked onto her silver ones. “I am just wondering how my brother managed to secure a beautiful, intelligent lady such as yourself,” he murmured, his cocky smirk in full force. “It must be exhausting, trying to wring competence out of a boy like him. Especially when you could be with me instead.”

“Is that a royal order, my lord?” Veila asked smoothly. She didn't step back. Mirroring his unblinking gaze, she let a dangerous edge bleed into her voice. “Or merely a suggestion? I do not work for Prince Cael out of pity. I work for him out of respect, and a belief in his talents.”

Dorian’s smile froze, his eyes turning cold. Veila held his predatory stare until her sharp hearing caught a rushed whisper from across the room—Cael, instructing his betrothed to intervene.

A moment later, Lady Senna arrived with a polite, sleepy drawl. Defeated by protocol, Dorian excused himself to ‘leave the ladies to bond.’ Before Veila could formulate an escape, she was gently steered away. Over Senna's shoulder, she caught Cael offering a nod. Rescue successful.

***

The Eastern Wing’s garden terrace was set for an outdoor tea party. Senna gestured for Veila to sit as a maid removed the noblewoman's winter mantle.

“We didn't have a chance to properly speak earlier. Prince Dorian was practically looming over you,” Senna said with a gentle smile.

“The Prince was merely being friendly,” Veila deflected, her human mask flawless. “But it must feel quite warm to you here, compared to the chill of House Valerius.”

“Indeed,” Senna agreed, her sleepy eyes curving into pleasant crescents as she looked at her discarded coat. “This snow fox fur is incredibly thick and warm. Lovely, but unnecessary in such a wonderful palace.”

Internally, Veila groaned. Snow fox fur. This woman was ruthless. 

Senna gracefully poured fragrant herbal tea, gesturing to a silver tier of frustratingly tiny pastries. If it were up to her, Veila would have unhinged her jaw and devoured the entire tower. Instead, playing the refined lady, she took a nibble of an orange macaron, pinky pointed.

“It is so lovely to finally meet you,” Senna murmured, setting her teacup down and idly tracing its floral rim. “My fiancé speaks highly of you. He says you have been... uniquely helpful to him.”

“The Prince is too kind,” Veila replied. Folding her hands, she added, “I am merely a humble advisor. We all want what is best for His Highness.”

Senna nodded. She sliced a frosted cake down the middle, sliding half onto a plate for Veila.

“I have never traveled to the Northern Marches,” Senna mused. “I hear the people there are deeply reclusive. Yet, you seem remarkably competent and attentive in the way you navigate our court.”

“Reclusive does not mean ignorant, Lady Senna,” Veila replied, accepting the cake. Beneath her emerald dress, her tail thrashed, but her persona remained. “Plus, one can always do their homework before accepting a new assignment.”

The remark caught Senna off guard for a fraction of a second. Her silver fork paused mid-cut before she brought her fingers to her lips with a laugh. 

“Oh, my apologies. How tacky of me,” Senna smiled, recovering her composure. “I am sure you have done a thorough job preparing for this role. It would be lovely to visit your hometown one day.”

Beneath her glamour, Veila's ears pinned flat against her head. This delicate human was far more dangerous than she looked. Veila decided it was time to withdraw; the more she discussed her fabricated past, the easier a fatal slip would be.

Sensing the shift, Senna produced a pair of pearl-inlaid opera glasses. She then peered down at the main courtyard where the noblemen were shooting arrows and debating politics.

“Prince Cael is quite handsome, isn't he?” Senna commented.

The tension broke, and Veila’s tail finally dropped with an internal sigh of relief. “As to be expected from royal blood,” she joked lightly. “Though right now, he looks miserable entertaining those nobles.”

Lowering the glasses, Senna let out a giggle—her first sound of amusement. “He truly does. I will never understand men's activities.”

She turned her gaze back to Veila. The sharp, assessing look was gone, replaced by a soft smile. 

“It is a shame, though,” Senna murmured. “I feel as if... whenever he looks in my direction, he is never actually looking at me. It is almost as if his heart already belongs somewhere else.”

Everything inside Veila froze. Her tails. Her ears. Her breath. 

Her heart froze too, but not before it gave one thump against her ribs.

She recovered quickly, forcing a reassuring smile. “My lady, the two of you have only just met. You will have plenty of time to open up.”

“You are right,” Senna chuckled softly, picking up her fork. “I apologize for holding you up, Lady Veila. I am sure you are terribly busy with your paperwork.”

Thank the gods. Veila exhaled with relief, bowing her head as she finally escaped the most exhausting tea party of her centuries-long life.