Avarine sat before her vanity mirror, her posture immaculate, back straight and shoulders poised as a maid stood behind her, attending to her with quiet diligence. Her hands were folded demurely in her lap, fingers barely moving as though even the smallest fidget might disturb the image of refinent she had been taught to embody since childhood.
The maid worked in near silence, separating Avarine’s black hair into neat sections and brushing each one with painstaking care.
The soft, rhythmic strokes of the brush were almost hypnotic.
Avarine stared at her reflection, her green eyes unfocused, lost in thoughts she did not bother to untangle. So absorbed was she in her reverie that she barely registered the faint creak of her bedroom door being pushed open.
It was only when her mother’s voice cut through the stillness that she startled back to awareness.
Avarine glanced over her shoulder, quickly schooling her expression into a polite smile.
"That will be enough for now. You may go," Taryn said to the maid as she stepped further into the room, her tone calm but authoritative.
The maid dipped into a respectful bow, murmured a soft acknowledgnt, and excused herself, shutting the door quietly behind her as she left.
Once they were alone, Taryn’s attention returned fully to her daughter. She moved closer, the soft rustle of her skirts filling the room, until she ca to a stop behind Avarine and took the place the maid had occupied only monts before.
Avarine’s gaze returned to the mirror as her mother picked up the brush and resud the task, her movents practiced and gentle as she smoothed the dark strands where the maid had left off.
Taryn had not dismissed the maid rely because she wanted to spend ti with Avarine. She wanted privacy. So conversations were not ant for listening ears, no matter how loyal the servants might be.
"What do you think of His Highness’s estate?" Taryn asked at last. They had scarcely spoken of it since their return, and now she wished to hear every impression her daughter had ford.
"It was truly breathtaking," Avarine sighed wistfully. The mory alone seed to soften her expression. "I didn’t even see half of it, yet it already feels like one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been. Living there would be like a dream co true."
She had been born into wealth and prestige, surrounded by luxury for as long as she could rember. Silks, jewels, grand halls, and endless servants had always been a part of her world. Yet even with all that, her family’s influence could never rival that of the prince. Ragnar existed in a league of his own. He owned vast estates and sprawling lands across the kingdom, he controlled Amris and the towns surrounding it, his power stretching far beyond titles. He also had a successful military career.
Who wouldn’t want him? Bastard or not, his authority was undeniable, and power had a way of eclipsing lineage. It was enough to draw the attention of countless noblewon, and the fact that he was strikingly handso only strengthened that allure.
But for Avarine, his wealth and status had never been the reason for her obsession or even the thing that fueled her infatuation. She had loved him for years, long before she had been old enough to understand what love truly ant. Ragnar had always been the one in her eyes, and that certainty had never wavered. It never would.
In the mirror, she watched her mother’s lips curve into a satisfied smile.
"Now imagine getting married and actually living there," Taryn said smoothly as she brushed the ends of Avarine’s hair. "Not rely visiting. That would be the true dream."
"You know I want that more than anything," Avarine replied, her voice firm despite its softness. She t her mother’s gaze in the mirror.
Taryn rely humd noncommittally in response.
"And what do you think of the Westerian princess?" she asked next. The question might have sounded innocent, had Taryn not known exactly how it would strike her daughter.
As expected, the corner of Avarine’s mouth tightened, her pleasant expression faltering into a frown.
"She is not very friendly," Avarine said, recalling her brief interaction with Circe. "She was rude and closed off. It’s strange how soone like His Highness could favor soone so... prickly. It doesn’t make sense. I don’t rember Luria being like that."
"She wasn’t," Taryn agreed. "Luria was warm and welcoming, quite the opposite of the princess, in fact. But people’s tastes can change as they grow older." Her tone sharpened subtly. "Regardless of how the princess behaves, you cannot afford to antagonize her. Not directly. If you do, you will never get close to His Highness."
She paused, then continued more carefully. "You must befriend her. Earn her trust. Insert yourself into her circle until she feels comfortable enough to keep you near."
Avarine scrunched up her face, displeasure written plainly across her features. A protest hovered on her lips.
"How am I supposed to do that when she barely spoke ten words to the last ti we t?" Avarine whined, her composure slipping into sothing more petulant. "The only people I’ve seen her speak freely with are Lady Mina and Lady Elara."
"That is hardly an obstacle," Taryn replied calmly, finishing the last strokes through Avarine’s hair. "Mina is forever hosting one gathering or another. Attend the next event where you know the princess will be present. Stay close to Mina’s side. Circumstances will force you into their conversations."
She set the brush down. "I will et with Sasha’s mother tomorrow. I’ll ensure you receive an invitation to the next event Mina is hosting."
Then, with a faint smile, she added, "All you must do is charm them, sothing you have done effortlessly since before you could walk."
Her mother’s voice was gentle, almost affectionate. But the ssage beneath it was unmistakable.
Failure was not an option.
***
When Circe woke up in the cave from her dreams, she found that she was more relieved than anything else. It ant that she would be getting more answers about her strange abilities.
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