Chapter 6: The Garden Party Invitation

Three days.

That was the Duke's limit. Three days to live.

The first two days. Fabric and books.

Mira dragged me to the seamstress at dawn on day one. Fabrics- silks, lace and judging stares-were piled everywhere. "My Lady," she whispered as the needle prickled my waist.

"You must look… perfect.

Lady Elara will wear white. What you wear will indicate you are not dead."

"…Red?" was my first suggestion.

Mira fainted.

Deep green was decided upon then. The shade of poisons and gold. Longsleeved for concealing new scrawls beneath the fabric, high collared for my constantly-sweaty face, and the color of deception.

Day two involved books. The afternoon brought a large package to my room. No note, only the Duke's crest.

Common Poisons and their Antidotes

How to Tell if someone is Lying in 10 Seconds

Social Etiquette for Public Humiliation

I read all three, twice, that day.

Day three: silence.

Duke Cassian didn't visit me that day. Nor did he send any notes or lilies. I preferred the latter.

The black carriage, devoid of the royal crest, arrived early the morning of the party. Rain continued to fall. Mira dropped a bow so low to the ground I'm sure she became invisible.

"My Lady.

Be careful."

"Doesn't sound very human to me." I smiled tightly. Mira returned it with a flat stare.

Whitlock estate matched the descriptive paragraphs to perfection; overly white, blinding sunlight, far too much flower that smelled solely of death. Servants stood along the driveway like so many inanimate objects, every single one of them staring straight at my arriving carriage.

Then, on the marble steps, stood the queen of the garden party in white. ONCE AGAIN.

Lady Elara-dressed in her pristine outfit of silk and naivete, a crown of delicate white blooms woven into her hair, exuded an innocence that seemed too pure to be anything less than a well-rehearsed act.

"Lady Seraphina," Elara came down a few steps; an honor I did not expect or require. "It is so wonderful of you to attend."

"Lady Elara." I curtsied deeply. "Nothing could keep me away. Not in this lifetime."

Her smile-narrow, devoid of humor-didn't reach her eyes. "I have prepared something for you." I knew, but feigned surprise.

The garden pulsed with the weight of every noble and merchant, of whispers turned to physical entities. Each head turned, each gaze fixed on our party.

"That's her."

"The debacle from last week."

"She appears changed."

Let them look. Let them wonder. Elara whisked me away, deep within the rose hedges, an owner leading her property.

"We have fresh lemonade," she cooed, indicating the crystal goblets resting on a long, polished wooden table.

Silverware gleamed. Right in the middle sat one glass with a precisely carved slice of lemon, its geometry oddly sharp. The special one. Chapter 6.

The Sip of Doom.

My throat felt dry and constricting.

"Help yourself?"

Elara proposed, lifting the special glass. Her hand was impossibly steady.

"Care to try it?"

I reached for it greedily, my nerve failing me.

A voice echoed through the garden- "Lady Seraphina."

Duke Cassian.

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. The books clearly stated he arrives post-lethal dose. Yet, he strode into the throng, in his formal, black attire as if it was raining within the palace grounds; his gaze latched onto mine, then drifted to the glass in Elara's outstretched hand, then down to her outstretched fingers.

The world ceased its circulation.

"Your Grace!" Elara curtsied, her serene facade cracking. "What a surprise!"

"Is it?"

He stopped beside me. He did not look at me directly.

"Just passing by.

I find myself… curious."

A blatant lie. With a swift movement that surprised even me, he took the glass from Elara, sniffing it nonchalantly before draining nearly half the lemonade in a single, gulping swig.

Time solidified to a halt.

"Duke-" Elara's gasp was barely audible.

"A bit sweet, isn't it?"

he commented, setting the glass down on the table. "Almost as if it's trying to cover something."

Elara's face was chalk white.

Mine was frozen.

He had just drunk the poison, for me.

Finally, he turned to me, his eyes impassive, but his hand, as it rested momentarily on mine, was warm. "May I have a walk with you, Lady Seraphina." It wasn't a suggestion. Leaving Elara to explain her carefully concocted plan to 50 mortified socialites, we proceeded into the rose hedges where the leaves rustled like so many whispers closing behind us.

"You lunatic," I spat once we were out of earshot. "That could have killed-"

"It won't." He stopped. He looked directly at me then, his gaze burning with something akin to pity mixed with… fierce possessiveness. "I had it analyzed this morning."

"... What."

"I do not allow you to walk into a death trap alone anymore." It was stated with such certainty, I could only blink in response. The rain returned, soft, hesitant drops drumming a melancholic rhythm on the leaves.

"What happens now?" I asked, the tension in my throat easing just slightly. "We completely tanked Chapter 6."

"No."

His lips curved upwards. It was more a spasm of amusement than an actual smile.

"We rewrote it."

He produced another crumpled, black-sealed note from the inside of his coat. My hands felt steadier now as I took it.

One line was written:

Chapter 7: The Duke is now the villain.

My blood turned to ice. I looked up at him. Duke Cassian watched me, his expression unreadable. "Looks like," he stated in a low voice, "we have less than 24 hours.

The garden party continued behind us, a scene completely irrelevant to the drama that had unfolded within its rose-filled depths. But the plot? It had been irrevocably altered. This time, we were the authors.

---

Author's Note:

HE DRANK IT.

TO PROTECT HER.

FOR THOSE OF YOU STRESSING- SAY "DUKE PROTECTIVE MODE ACTIVATED" IF YOU'RE ABOUT TO DIE LIKE CHAPTER 6 INTENDED BUT DID NOT ACHIEVE.

WHO IS GOING TO GET THE BETTER OF THEM IN CHAPTER 7?