[Third Person].
anwhile, redith, who had been speaking for a while, remained very busy with her guests.
She gestured lightly to the space around them. "This estate has long stood as a symbol of power. Today, I want it to be a place of listening."
A small pause followed before she continued. "I know many of you work until your bodies ache. I know so of you choose between dicine and food. I know that when won suffer quietly, it is often dismissed as endurance."
Her voice remained steady, but sothing firm anchored it now. "That is not strength. That is neglect."
A ripple passed through the crowd, but redith continued, "I am not here to promise impossible change in a single day. But I am here to start sothing consistent."
She turned slightly, indicating the tables set at the side. "Later today, you will eat here as won who deserve rest. You will take ho teas for pain and digestion, and balms for wounds and tired joints."
Then, she tilted her chin subtly and said intentionally, "Those are not gifts; they are tools. And this will not be the last ti we gather."
That caught their attention imdiately as their minds began to wander about, wondering if this was the first in many coming etings.
"In the coming weeks," redith said, "I plan to hold smaller etings—practical ones. I want to teach skills that can be passed on—simple healing practices, preparation of salves, drying and storing herbs. For those interested, we will also begin craft sessions—sewing, preserving, work that can be shared or sold."
A murmur rose, this ti unmistakably interested.
"I will not decide these things alone," redith went on. "Which is why, before we eat, before anything else, I want to hear from you."
She stepped forward, closing the distance between herself and the benches. "Tell what burdens you carry," she said gently. "Not all at once. One voice at a ti."
For a long mont, no one spoke. Then a middle-aged woman with shoulders stiff with exhaustion stood.
"My Luna," she began automatically.
redith shook her head softly. "Please, speak freely."
The woman swallowed. "My husband works the eastern fields. My hands..." She held them up, cracked and swollen. "They don’t heal like they used to."
redith listened without interruption. When the woman finished, redith nodded once. "That pain you’re describing—there are balms that can ease it. Today you will receive one. And if you are willing, I can teach you how to make it yourself."
The woman’s eyes widened.
Another voice followed. Then another.
A young mother spoke of children falling ill too often. An older woman admitted quietly that loneliness weighed more heavily than hunger.
redith knelt beside one bench, crouched beside another, asked careful questions—how long, how often, what helps, what doesn’t—rembering each answer.
Inside her, Valmora observed everything, but then, she sensed sothing else. A familiar, sharpened presence crossing the estate’s wards.
’Wanda.’ Valmora snorted softly within redith’s mind. ’She is close,’ she noted coolly, sensing the familiar, artificial sweetness threading through the estate’s wards. ’That peacock.’
However, redith did not hear or sense Wanda approaching, as she was too busy listening to the won before her, plus Valmora did not tell her.
’Let her co,’ the wolf thought, sounding unbothered. ’A nuisance dressed as influence. Pretty. Clever. Empty.’
Outwardly, redith straightened again once the won had finished speaking. "I won’t insult you by promising miracles," she said honestly. "But I will promise effort. And presence. And action."
Only after the voices had finally quieted did redith rise again. "Thank you," she said. "You trusted with your truths. I will honour that."
Then, she gestured toward the tables once more. "In a few monts, food will be served. Please eat and speak with one another."
Around them, the servants began moving quietly, lifting the covered trays—steam curling from beneath the lids and the scent of warm food and fresh pogranate juice drifting through the shaded clearing, sothing shifted.
It was a subtle presence at first, and redith felt it before she saw it.
The soft open, gentle smile she had been wearing for the won seated before her stilled. Her fingers, which had been loosely clasped, tightened almost imperceptibly.
Her gaze lifted. From between the rows of trees lining the path that led from the main building, a familiar figure erged.
Wanda walked with unhurried confidence, dressed impeccably, her lips curved in a pleasant smile that did not quite reach her eyes.
Conversation around the venue faltered.
So of the won recognized her imdiately—there was a ripple of whispers, a shift in posture.
redith’s heart almost dropped. ’Why is she here?’ The thought ca sharp and imdiate.
She had not been inford. No word had reached her regarding Wanda’s presence. This event had been carefully planned, controlled, and ant to be simple and safe.
Wanda’s eyes found redith instantly. Her smile widened, polished and deliberate, as if this was exactly where she had intended to be all along.
On the other hand, redith took a slow breath.
The warmth she had been carrying monts ago drained away, replaced by alertness. Her shoulders straightened. Her spine stiffened in instinct.
She glanced briefly toward the servants, who had paused mid-motion, uncertain whether to proceed with serving.
"Continue," redith said quietly, her voice steady despite the sudden tension threading through her chest.
The servants obeyed, though their movents were now cautious.
Wanda approached closer, stopping just short of the shaded seating area, as if deliberately placing herself where everyone could see her, but not yet fully intruding.
"My," Wanda said lightly, her voice carrying without effort. "What a lovely gathering."
Her eyes swept over the won, the children, the neatly arranged tables, the gifts waiting to be handed out.
Then she looked back at redith. "I hope I’m not late."
---
The sitting room felt wrong the mont Draven stepped back inside.
His gaze imdiately went to the space between the chairs. The bag of coins was still there, but Wanda was not.
Imdiately, the calm he had been holding snapped.
Dennis stopped short behind him, then let out a sharp, incredulous laugh that held no humour whatsoever. "You’ve got to be kidding !"
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