Friendship On Pretense

"The breed of plant in your garden is a hybrid from the nettle family which is infamously known for being poisonous on touch. While a normal stinging nettle can't leave a person unconscious, your hybrid has managed to. I'm quite well-versed in botanology, actually."

Ariana's lips part in shock. She stands, feeling almost violated that her plan had been foiled so easily with none of the intended results achieved nevertheless.

Fearful of having walked right into a trap, she scans her surroundings anxiously, clutching onto the fabric of her dress. In her panic, she feels the sudden warmth of touch and slaps the outstretched hand away.

Myra's smile doesn't fall. "It was only a joke. I know you wouldn't do anything so horrendous intentionally, but my family has been panic-stricken over this. I've only been anxious that my father would not be appeased with me having you over."

"Oh no, you should tell him that we're friends! We're good friends, aren't we? You know what happened at the party was simply a mistake, right? A good friend couldn't possibly commit such a heinous act," Ariana switches her tone up and clutches both of Myra's hands.

Nervousness is apparent in the woman's voice as she tries to sound persuasive and while Myra would pretend to, she wouldn't truly fall for her act. "In fact, I was sincere about wanting to invite you to meet my friends. I would love for you to see them."

The skin around her eyes crinkle as she widens her grin even further and pulls Ariana into a warm embrace.

Ariana leaves soon after their confirmation of friendship, leaving her address upon the round table beside the sofa so they can exchange letters for contact when they are unable to meet.

Myra shows her guest to the door and wishes her well on her journey back, after which she is finally given the space to breathe.

Pressing her back against the closed door, she exhales deeply and massages her cheeks which have been sore for ages because of her relentless smiling. "I'm so sick of her," she groans under her breath and she's sure the feeling is mutual.

Feeling a burning hatred rekindle in her chest, she storms back to her bedroom, her only consolation being that she'd done her work right.

Myra returns to bed early this night, feeling a mixture of annoyance but newfound tenacity bubbling within the confines of her chest.

Her father has ordered that she's kept to a strict nutritious diet of porridge and fruits till she's fully healthy and while Myra mourns over her lack of meat, she's glad it gives her the opportunity to have her meals in her room.

Just as she's getting ready for bed, Leia and Jen knock on the door and enter the bedroom to check on the young lady to ensure she's in the right frame of mind. "Are you alright, My Lady?" Leia speaks up meekly, standing a distance away from the bed.

Myra turns her head and shows a brief smile for the skittish handmaidens. "I am. I'm only getting ready for bed now so you can take your leave for the night if you wish. You don't have to worry much for my health, truly," she reassures as she slides into the covers of her bed and tucks her feet under the duvets.

Leia and Jen kneel by the side of the bed, for some reason, refusing to leave. Myra tilts her head in confusion.

"We actually heard from Frederick about you talking to the Bougainvillea girl earlier. If you wish to mention, we were wondering what she came here for or if there's anything you'd like to know. You can say anything to the two of us, we vow to help you to the best of our ability, young miss," Jen rambles.

Myra smiles affectionately at her maids, touched at their dedication to serve her and keep to their words as they'd promised. While not many can be trusted in this time, she'd like to learn from those who she can leave her faith with.

"I was going to return to the city and learn about rumours about the secret high societies and other associations. I'm out of touch because I don't have many friends so I know very little about what's happening. In fact, I don't know how to predict what will happen in the future because I have no guidance. It's embarrassing, truly," Myra sighs, lying her back against her pillow.

Leia sits up, wearing an expression as if there's something she knows.

"Have you considered visiting the Oracle? The temple will be busy once the Summer Solstice festival comes along and the commoners visit to offer their prayers. I suggest that you go with Marquess Ares and consult it so you'll find your courage!"

Myra lowers her gaze, mind churning hundreds of thoughts as she weighs out her options. Upon dwelling on the suggestion for a few moments longer, she realises that visiting the Oracle may help her complete the story she's been trying to remember in snippets through her dreams.

This way, she may be able to predict in some ways how she can successfully get her fairytale ending and attain the revenge she'd been clutching onto since her past life.

Leia notices the troubled expression on her lady's face and sits up on her knees, "My Lady, it isn't right of you to bear such a sad look. Everything will go your way," she reassures.

A feeling of warmth ricochets through Myra's chest as she hears these words and realises it's about time she goes to bed before her feelings reach their peak for the night.

Offering a small smile alongside a polite request for her handmaidens to leave her for the night, Myra tucks herself back into bed and counts sheep on the ceiling for several minutes before finding her will to sleep.

She wakes up earlier than she's called the following morning, which she blames her poor health for. She isn't left with the squirmish feeling as before, instead washed over by a fresh emotion, one that's almost energising.

By the time she has completed her morning routine, Leia and Jen are too late to come into the room and feel terrible for being tardy.

"You don't have to keep coming in everyday. You only had to take care of me because I was unwell but I'm feeling much better. You don't have to tell this to Margaret either," she replies while pressing her index against her lips.

"Morning, Frederick, what's my schedule today?" Myra asks right after emerging from her bedroom door, which takes the poor man by a surprise. He jumps on the spot, tailcoat slapping the back of his thighs and glasses slipping dramatically off the bridge of his nose.

The young woman had spent so much time in her room that he would've thought she'd excuse herself from her duties for another day.

After all, she had that kind of power.