[Next day at the Royal Palace]

"So how are we doing, ladies?"

Everyone turned to look at Yesenia who had just walked through the door. She just looked like the rest of them- weary and sad. Even the way she dressed today was different. Same for the rest of them. Dressed in all black, Christabel sat propped up next to Lorelei on one of the soft sofas, wearing similar expressions of grief. On one of the matching chaise lounges lay Odette, a book in her hand. The title read: 'Tapped for Sorrow'

Yesenia frowned as she walked by her, her black dress flailing past.

"Where are Lady Atraxil and Lady Obsilia?" she asked Lorelei as she sat down on the sofa opposite them. Instantly, she was served a piping hot cup of tea, just the way she liked it. But today, she looked upon it with distaste. In fact, nobody was sipping tea today, not at all.

"Take it away, Ida," Yesenia called her maid back. "I'd rather not. Not today."

Christabel and Lorelei pursed their lips. Yesenia never skipped tea, rather, she was particularly strict about it. Seeing this never-seen-before sight made them more cautious of their situation.

"Are we alright, ladies?" Yesenia asked softly once again. She knew since last night was the princess's funeral ceremony, all of them must be down. Her only motivation was to get things back on track. "Don't ponder upon it, now, girls. We must be strong and provide emotional support to His Majesty at times like these. Remember, she was his daughter before she was a companion to us. Don't be, now. I know how close you were to the princess, Christa dear." It was rare for Yesenia to call Christabel so fondly. If things had come to this, they all knew that the situation was dire.

"She's not talking," Lorelei said quietly as she traced the pattern of the sofa with her finger.

Yesenia frowned. "Why not?"

Lorelei shrugged as she kept her gaze low. Yesenia noticed that she hadn't applied any make-up today. As an artistic soul, Lorelei always loved to make her face elaborately and present herself in the loveliest way possible. The Emperor had first noticed Lorelei Rovan, the daughter of a foreign envoy when both the father and daughter had come to visit the palace on behalf of their king, once. She was surely an eye-catcher, with her long blond hair and her bright pink eyes- the very picture of an angel.

The Emperor had proposed to marry her back then, and she had to take the proposal, for she had no choice. If not to strengthen foreign relations and secure their Kingdom's position, she would have gladly called quits.

Yesenia smiled sadly at the poor girl, who's one dream was to be an artist and run an art gallery of her own. Alas, some dreams have to be left behind for the big picture. It's a shame, really. Yesenia shook her head at that.

"Christabel, dear, won't you talk now?"

Yesenia had asked so sweetly that Christabel almost lifted her head from her knees. It was a most unladylike way to sit, with your legs up on the sofa, but nobody seems to mind at the moment. And it certainly wasn't the time for lectures.

Christabel shook her head, and a faint sob was heard as her head started bobbing up and down into her knees. Lorelei put an arm around her shoulder in an attempt to soothe her, but her sobs wouldn't stop. She was in the most frail state here, perhaps.

"Hey, now, Christa," Lorelei muttered calmly as she rubbed her hand on her shoulder. "It's fine now. Stop crying, please, or I shall start as well."

Tears threatened to fall from Lorelei's eyelids, but she managed to keep them in and she took long breaths and dabbed at her eyes.

"Should we leave her alone for a while?" Yesenia mumbled to Lorelei, a worried look on her face. "She needs time to gather her thoughts and move on."

Lorelei shook her head. "We can't leave her alone in such miserable times. She needs support. How else will she be able to move on?"

It was a petty squabble, but Lorelei won. Yesenia sighed and mumbled something to herself, then she left with the excuse that she needed to check on some things. Lorelei watched her go and then slumped down in her seat.

"Christabel," she said, her eyes on the large painting on the wall opposite them. "Please stop crying. Why won't you talk to me?"

By her side, Christabel's back bobbed up and down as she tried to control her sorrows and all of a sudden, she gave a huge, heavy sigh. Her body stopped trembling and she clasped her hands together around her knees.

"Good girl," Lorelei whispered as she patted her head and smiled. "Good girl..."

✿

[Continuing from Chapter 68]

"So what did Mister Verel say?" I asked again, for he hadn't told me yet.

Reynard fidgeted with his hands and looked at the floor. "Um… I don't know how to say this."

I raised an eyebrow in confusion. What was he trying to say? Had Mister Verel said something so awful about my brooch? Was it fake? I squeezed Reynard's arm in anticipation.

"Tell me."

He took a deep breath before looking straight into my eyes. "So it's made of moonstone, according to what he told me. Rare, yes. Pretty costly."

I nodded to hurry things on.

"And you told me to ask how old it is. He estimated it to be several hundred years old, probably 4 or 5. He was quite shocked by its quality. How could an heirloom so old be pristine and undamaged?"

I bit the inside of my lip as he pulled out the brooch from his pocket and presented it to me. I took it with tender hands and studied it as if I was looking at it for the very first time. It was beautiful, no doubt. With smooth edges on the petals and a white sheen, it looked quite real. Too real.

"What else did he say? Did he recognize the brooch?" I asked, looking back up. I was surprised to see Reynard furrowing his eyebrows.

"Well, he did say something. It's supposed to represent Priestess Grisha's crest. Now, isn't that interesting." He chuckled.

"Huh?" If what he was telling me was the truth… Was it the truth? How could this tiny flower date back to the Priestess's era?

He nodded at my bewilderment. "And guess what. There are only two of these in existence, with one of them belonging to the Royal family. I'm guessing you have that one."

I was shaken. "W-Who does the other one belong to?" Please let it be something mediocre, please, please, please god!

Reynard scratched the back of his hand. "Oh, y'know. It belongs to the direct family of the priestess. Probably some present day descendant of Her Holiness." When I didn't respond, Reynard tapped the table once. "You alright?"

No, I was not alright. In fact, I couldn't be worse. I gathered the hair at my forehead and pushed them back over my head. Pulling my hand back, I bit my thumb. I bit it again and again, bit it till I started tasting blood.

"Hey!" Reynard slapped my hand away from my mouth and took a hold of it. "Stop hurting yourself. You've ripped the skin, look. Does it hurt?"

In truth, I didn't feel anything at the moment. Not with all these thoughts running through my mind. If what Reynard had told me was true, then was it possible…? No, no, it can't be. Now way. I can't believe it. Reynard must've noticed the expression on my face because his eyes widened, mirroring my own.

"What?" he whispered.

My breath quickened as I realized the possibility. Then slowly, I pulled something out of my pocket and held it between us. Reynard gave it one look and an expression of horror passed his face.

"No way… No way… Where did you get this?"

I gulped as I stared at Mama Ruth's brooch, pinched between my fingers.

"It's not mine," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "It belongs to her."

He furrowed his eyebrows. "To whom?"

I lifted my gaze and met his. Both of us had looks of horror in our eyes.

"Mama Ruth."

That's when all the puzzle pieces fit together. I think Reynard realized what I did, too, because his eyes widened to the point they couldn't anymore.

"No f**king way," he whispered.

I gasped.