Morning light streamed through the high windows of Valemont Hall's dining room, soft and golden. The scent of brewed tea and fresh bread filled the air, mingling with the faint hum of bees from the garden beyond.
The family gathered as they always did — the rhythm of their mornings almost ritual. Lord Valemont sat at the head of the table, the rustle of his newspaper marking his presence more than his words. Beside him, Lady Elara poured tea with her usual quiet grace.
Across the table sat the twins — Selene and Seraphina — mirror images in posture and poise, though their eyes told very different stories.
Selene looked bright, composed, the very image of her mother's refinement. Seraphina, by contrast, seemed distant; the night's unease still clung faintly to her expression, though she masked it behind politeness.
Lord Valemont lowered his paper. "I hear Lord Devan paid a visit yesterday," he said, his tone measured but curious. "How fares the young man these days?"
"He seemed well, Father," Selene replied smoothly, setting her teacup down. "Gracious as ever."
"And how did you find him, Selene?" her father asked, his eyes lifting over the rim of his glass. "A gentleman, I trust?"
Selene paused, just for a moment — enough for Seraphina to glance her way. Normally, Selene would have spoken freely, perhaps even playfully, when Devan's name arose. But now, she seemed to weigh her answer with care.
"Yes, Father," she said finally, her tone light but deliberate. "He was kind and courteous. A man of fine manners and better restraint. Though I daresay," she added with a faint smile, "he seemed quite taken with the gardens."
Her gaze flicked briefly toward Seraphina — a subtle glance, almost protective — before returning to her plate.
Lord Valemont chuckled. "Ah, the gardens again. It seems our flowers win more hearts than our daughters."
Lady Elara smiled softly. "The gardens are Seraphina's care, are they not?"
Seraphina nodded, surprised to find her throat dry. "Yes, Mother."
Selene spoke again, quietly but with warmth. "And no one tends them better. Lord Devan said as much himself."
The words startled Seraphina — not for what was said, but how they were said. There was no trace of envy, no sharpness. Just calm acknowledgment. Kindness, even.
Lord Valemont looked pleased. "Then it seems the young man has good taste — in flowers and company alike."
"Perhaps," Selene said, smiling faintly. "Though I believe he came to see more than blossoms."
Her father laughed, but Seraphina caught the shift in her sister's tone — that brief flicker of distance behind the charm.
When the conversation moved on, she found herself studying Selene across the table. Her twin was laughing at something their mother said, her expression flawless, serene.
But to Seraphina, she looked… different somehow. Softer. Guarded.
And for the first time in a long while, Seraphina couldn't tell whether her sister's restraint was genuine — or a mask.
After breakfast, the twins walked together down the corridor toward the east wing. The air was thick with the faint perfume of roses drifting in from the open windows, and the sound of distant birdsong echoed faintly in the courtyard below.
For a while, neither spoke.
Seraphina was the first to break the silence. "You were… very kind this morning," she said softly. "At breakfast, I mean."
Selene turned her head slightly, the corners of her lips lifting in amusement. "Kind? You make it sound as though that's rare."
"That's not what I meant." Seraphina's voice faltered. "It's just — when Father asked about Lord Devan, I expected you to…" She hesitated. "To say more."
Selene smiled faintly. "You thought I would claim him for myself?"
Seraphina's cheeks warmed. "No — only that you usually speak freely. You didn't today."
They stopped by the tall window overlooking the gardens. Sunlight spilled over the marble floor, cutting their reflections sharply against the glass — two faces nearly identical, yet divided by a thin seam of shadow.
Selene studied their mirrored image, her eyes unreadable. "I thought it best to spare you unnecessary discomfort. You seemed… fond of him."
Seraphina's breath caught. "Fond? I barely know him."
"Perhaps. But fondness often grows in silence, doesn't it?" Selene turned to her, smiling, though her gaze drifted briefly toward the garden where she had seen Lord Devan and Seraphina speaking the day before. "I saw the way he looked at you."
Seraphina frowned, her concern returning. "Selene, that's not—"
Selene interrupted gently, her tone distant. "You don't need to explain. Not to me."
For a moment, all Seraphina could hear was the ticking of the hall clock, the whisper of leaves outside. She stepped closer. "Selene… are you well?"
Selene blinked, as if surprised by the question. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"You seem… changed," Seraphina said carefully. "Since yesterday. You're quiet. Thoughtful. It's unlike you."
Selene looked down, her fingers brushing the hem of her gown. "I hardly slept," she admitted. "That's all. Dreams, perhaps."
"Dreams?"
"Yes." Her tone grew softer, almost detached. "Though I can't quite remember them. Only that there was a window. And someone on the other side of it."
Seraphina froze. "What do you mean?"
Selene's eyes flicked to her, distant but calm. "It's nothing. A trick of the mind." She gave a brittle smile. "You mustn't worry so much, sister."
But when she turned away, Seraphina noticed her hands trembling slightly — the faintest, involuntary shiver that betrayed something she could not name.
Selene continued down the hall, her footsteps light against the stone.
Seraphina remained where she was, staring after her — her own reflection still lingering in the windowpane beside her.
And for a fleeting second, she thought she saw another reflection — a child's outline, standing just behind Selene's retreating form.