Distasteful Affair

"You don't have to say that kind of stuff out-loud. You're forgetting that nobles like you are watched wherever you go," Ares lowers his voice to say, just so his words are enough for Myra to hear. His pointed gaze lands upon a butler standing too close to them, one he could've sworn to not have seen before.

He positions his hand against Myra such that the protruding part of her skirt pocket cannot be seen and luckily enough, they make it to the table in time for them to avoid any suspicion.

As she hopes to take a seat beside Ares, a butler calls out to her and redirects her to a separate seat. 'Each seat has a name label on it,' is his excuse so Myra doesn't argue and instead comforts Ares that she'll speak to him afterwards.

She is led to the opposite side where Jalen's seated with arms crossed loosely and one leg kicked over the other.

Her seat, for some reason, is right next to the head of the table where Ariana is seated. It's enough to attract attention from the other guests who steal the occasional glance towards her, wondering why she has the privilege to sit so close to the hostess.

The rivalry between Ruskin and Bougainvillea is no secret, especially to the nobles of Fleurette who have seen the land disputes and territory invasion challenges between both families.

Myra, however, doesn't let this get the better of her and keeps her eyes to herself. "Did you drink it?" she whispers to Jalen. He nods.

On Ariana's other side is Ashton, her younger brother. He sits opposite Myra with both legs down and palms placed on either of them in the name of proper courtesy and table manners.

Not wanting Jalen to be singled out for his lack of courtesy, she slaps him on the thigh as an order for him to sit properly.

Before he can express his displeasure, she murmurs, "You don't want yourself to be criticised in front of Ashton, do you? That boy has better table manners than yourself. You can roll your ball under the table and play with it, if you want, no one's going to see what you're doing once we start eating."

Jalen whines. "He started talking to me earlier when you left me on my own, saying bull about how his family's got an advantage over us finally and we haven't even seen it so it's going to be his turn to take over me in sports."

"The kid's hurt because he won't be able to take over the family once he's older. Has some kind of unresolved superiority complex towards his sister," Myra replies in a dull voice, one that strikes as amusing to Jalen who stifles a laugh.

Ariana, at this very moment, decides it's an appropriate time to speak up although she's been watching Myra's lips for several minutes since they were seated next to each other.

Almost all of the guests have settled by this point, most exchanging words of greeting or friendly conversation.

She's been watching the neatly arranged banquet table while talking, noticing little details on the satin cloth tailored specifically for occasions like this, and the bougainvillea wreaths hung on each chair.

"You were discussing Ashton?" Ariana inquires.

Myra blinks and a beat passes without a single word of response passing over her mind.

The question is so short yet hits so hard, leaving her confused as to how she could've heard what she'd been saying.

She ensured that she spoke softly enough for only Jalen to hear, which he did only barely. There couldn't have been a chance that she would've been able to hear.

"How did you know?" Myra laughs awkwardly.

Ariana's smile grows, "Lucky guess!"

The exchange is interrupted by footsteps and the sound of a bell reverberating through the atmosphere, silencing all light-hearted chatter.

A pompous old man enters the greenhouse, standing behind Ariana with his hands folded behind his back.

Myra easily recognises him as Duke Bougainvillea, though she hasn't seen him before. He wears a pink cloak, resembling the colour of his daughter's dress and blonde hair similar to both his children.

Placing either hand on the backrest of Ariana's chair, he flashes an inviting smile to the guests.

"Good afternoon. I would like to first start off thanking all of the present guests for making time out of their day to attend this light-hearted affair. While I'm unable to join for lunch, I'm grateful for the gifts that have been offered for Ariana's recovery. I'm sure she's grateful as well. With this, I am pleased to commence the lunch. Enjoy."

On command, lines of butlers enter in lines, carrying platters on either hand as they lay out the food as a spread on the banquet table

. As the silver covers are lifted off the plates, a strong mixed aroma is released into the air, filling the room with enticing scents.

The spread consists of every food Myra could ever dream of—honey-glazed turkey, macaron towers as well as an assortment of desert towers bearing pastries of the highest quality, pasta with cheese-covered baguette slices.

Myra's eyes widen at the selection and it's obvious how much she's appalled as the food is served to her own plate with the assistance of the butlers. Before settling with the main course, an appetizer of soup and vegetable skewers is served.

"I hope everyone enjoys the food prepared. Do let me know if it's catered to your liking," Ariana beams. Before digging into her food, Myra sniffs her food to distinguish anything fishy that may be in the food before trying.

Jalen stares at the food with hesitance, reluctant to eat although his stomach is audibly grumbling. She turns her head to him and squeezes his hand, reassuring him that he'll be fine after taking the anti-toxin.

Lifting the spoon with a somewhat shaky hand, she brings the soup to her lips and sips. Pleased chatter erupts amongst the guests around the table.

"Oh, the Ruskins came? I didn't know they were invited."

Myra's keen ear catches from the crowd at the far edge of the table. Narrowing her eyes in annoyance at the mention of her family name so negatively, she raises her gaze, wielding her skewer stick in her hand.

Her tense expression makes it look almost intimidating. She meets the eye of the girl who'd so boldly made the statement, a Viscount's daughter merely.

Her face loses colour as soon as they make eye contact so another guest calls out to Myra to divert her attention.

"I heard you recently recovered from a temporary coma as well. Is your health doing better?"

Myra lowers her skewer.

Flashing a bright grin, dripping with false joy, she chirrups, "I'm doing much better now that I'm in a place where I can speak to the other Fleurette nobles. Thank you for asking about my health, it makes me happy to know I'm cared for."