Chapter 8. favor

The Varrow estate was a fortress of refinement, its grandeur unmatched by any other noble house in the kingdom. Yet Celeste knew its polished halls and gilded mirrors hid more secrets than most would dare to imagine.

The court wasn't just a game of alliances and power plays—it was a battlefield of whispers. Rumors moved faster than armies, cutting deeper than swords. And tonight, the battle was being waged at Lady Belmore's soirée.

The invitation had been delivered with all the pomp befitting the occasion, gilded edges and a wax seal bearing the Belmore crest. But Celeste hadn't been fooled by the pretense of camaraderie. She knew exactly why she had been invited—to watch her every move, to test her resolve, and to remind her of her precarious place in court.

The ballroom was already alive with conversation when she arrived. The chatter of nobles mingled with the soft strains of a string quartet, and the air was thick with the scent of perfume and ambition.

Celeste entered with her head held high, every inch the composed noblewoman. Her midnight-blue gown, embroidered with silver thread, shimmered as she moved, and her emerald eyes scanned the room with calculated precision.

Tonight was not a night for missteps.

---

She spotted her first target easily: Lady Annalise.

Her stepsister stood near the far wall, surrounded by a small group of nobles. Annalise's honey-blonde hair was pinned in an elaborate style, and her gown of pale gold gave her the appearance of an angel descended from heaven. But Celeste knew better.

Annalise's smile was sweet, her laugh light, but her eyes were sharp. She was already working the room, weaving her web of charm and subtle manipulation.

Celeste took a deep breath. She needed to tread carefully here. Annalise had been one of the key players in her downfall in the original timeline, and the woman's cunning had only grown sharper since. But if Celeste could manage to keep her neutral—or better yet, cooperative—it would be one less dagger aimed at her back.

She approached the group with a practiced smile. "Annalise," she said warmly, "you look radiant tonight."

Annalise turned, her eyes widening slightly in surprise before her expression smoothed into one of polite affection. "Celeste," she said, her tone equally warm. "I didn't expect to see you here. You've been so... reclusive lately."

The implication was clear, but Celeste refused to rise to the bait. "I've had much to reflect on," she replied smoothly. "But I wouldn't miss one of Lady Belmore's soirées. Her gatherings are always so... illuminating."

Annalise's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she recovered. "Indeed they are," she said. "It's a pleasure to see you out and about again. You've been missed."

The other nobles in the group exchanged glances, clearly intrigued by the interaction. Celeste took the opportunity to steer the conversation.

"And how is Father?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "I hear he's been keeping quite busy with the tournament preparations."

Annalise's eyes narrowed slightly, though her smile didn't waver. "He's well," she said. "He speaks highly of the competitors this year. I'm sure it will be a spectacle to remember."

Celeste nodded, feigning interest. "I hope to see our house well-represented. It's important to remind the court of our strength and unity."

Annalise's lips thinned ever so slightly. She was clearly testing the waters, searching for a crack in Celeste's facade.

Before she could respond, a new voice interrupted.

"Lady Varrow."

Celeste turned, her heart skipping a beat as Duke Durand approached. His imposing presence immediately commanded attention, and the group around Annalise shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Your Grace," Celeste said, dipping into a curtsy. "It's an honor to see you this evening."

He nodded, his gray eyes flicking briefly to Annalise before settling on Celeste. "I trust Sir Edrick's introduction went smoothly?"

Celeste smiled. "It did. He's eager to learn and shows great promise."

Durand's gaze lingered on her for a moment, as if weighing her words, before he gave a small nod of approval. "Good. Continue to guide him. He'll need steady hands to navigate what lies ahead."

"Of course," Celeste said, keeping her tone respectful.

The Duke turned his attention to Annalise. "Lady Annalise," he said, his tone polite but distant. "I trust your evening is going well?"

Annalise curtsied gracefully, though there was a flicker of tension in her eyes. "It is, Your Grace. Thank you."

Durand didn't linger. With a brief nod to the group, he moved on, leaving a ripple of unease in his wake.

Annalise's smile returned, sharper now. "You've been busy, haven't you, Celeste?"

Celeste met her gaze evenly. "We all have our roles to play, dear sister. I'm simply fulfilling mine."

Annalise's eyes glinted with something unreadable, and for a moment, Celeste wondered if she had pushed too far. But then Annalise laughed, a light, melodic sound that drew the attention of those around her.

"Of course," she said sweetly. "It's good to see you taking things so seriously. Father will be pleased."

Celeste smiled back, the expression cool and composed. "I hope so."

---

As the evening wore on, Celeste moved through the room with calculated ease. She exchanged pleasantries, offered carefully chosen compliments, and made note of the shifting alliances around her.

By the time she returned to her carriage, the night had taken its toll. The weight of maintaining her facade, of navigating the subtle traps laid before her, left her drained.

But she had survived.

And in a world where survival was never guaranteed, that was enough for now.

The dawn light filtered through the lace curtains of Celeste's chambers, gilding the edges of her vanity and casting a soft glow on the room. Despite the peaceful morning, Celeste's mind was anything but tranquil. The night at Lady Belmore's soirée had been a game of precision, each word and smile carefully calculated.

She sat at the edge of her bed, brushing through the midnight waves of her hair as she replayed the encounters. Annalise had been sharp, testing the waters, while Duke Durand's presence loomed larger than she had anticipated. Winning his favor wasn't going to be a one-time effort. She would need to prove herself through actions, not just words.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

"My Lady," came the familiar voice of Marianne, her personal maid. "The Duke has requested your presence in the study."

Celeste's heart skipped a beat. The Duke? So early?

"I'll be there shortly," she called, setting down the brush and rising with purpose.

---

The study was a bastion of tradition, with shelves lined with leather-bound books and heavy curtains that muted the morning sun. Duke Durand stood near the window, his hands clasped behind his back. He turned as Celeste entered, his piercing gray eyes narrowing slightly in acknowledgment.

"Lady Varrow," he said, gesturing toward one of the chairs near his desk. "Please, sit."

Celeste dipped her head respectfully and complied, smoothing her skirts as she perched on the edge of the seat.

"You summoned me, Your Grace?" she asked, her tone measured.

Durand's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he spoke. "I've been considering your progress with Sir Edrick."

Celeste straightened slightly, her heart pounding.

"You've impressed me," he continued, his voice even. "He speaks highly of your guidance and has already begun applying your advice in his interactions at court."

Relief flooded through her, though she kept her expression composed. "That's good to hear. Sir Edrick is a quick learner. He has the potential to go far."

Durand nodded, his expression softening slightly. "Which brings me to the reason I've called you here. There's an issue that requires... discretion. I believe you may be suited to handle it."

Celeste's stomach tightened. "Of course, Your Grace. What is the issue?"

The Duke moved to the desk, retrieving a folded piece of parchment. He placed it before her, his fingers lingering on the edges as if reluctant to let it go.

"There's been a theft," he said, his tone grim. "A letter containing sensitive information has gone missing from my personal correspondence. Its contents, if revealed, could undermine the Crown's trust in certain allies—myself included."

Celeste's fingers itched to open the letter, but she refrained. "Do you suspect who might have taken it?"

Durand's jaw tightened. "I have suspicions but no proof. The letter disappeared during the commotion at Lady Belmore's soirée. If the thief is planning to use it against me, we must act swiftly."

Celeste's mind raced. A stolen letter, a threat to the Duke's reputation—this wasn't just a simple favor. It was a test, one that could determine whether she earned his trust or lost it completely.

"What do you need me to do?" she asked, her voice steady.

Durand leaned forward, his gaze intense. "The thief will likely try to sell the information to one of my rivals. I need you to uncover who has it and retrieve it before it reaches the wrong hands."

"And if I fail?"

Durand's eyes darkened. "Failure is not an option, Lady Varrow. The consequences would be dire for both of us."

Celeste swallowed hard but nodded. "I understand."

---

The carriage ride to the city was quiet, save for the rhythmic clatter of wheels on cobblestones. Celeste stared out the window, her mind churning. She'd left Sir Edrick to train on his own for the day, trusting him to handle the court with the groundwork she'd laid. Now, she had to focus on this new task.

Lady Belmore's soirée had been a whirlwind of interactions, but a few moments stood out in her memory. A nobleman lingering too close to the correspondence table, a servant leaving the room in haste, whispers that had stopped the moment she approached.

By the time the carriage rolled to a stop near the city's bustling market district, Celeste had a plan.

---

The scent of fresh bread and spices mingled with the sharp tang of the sea breeze as Celeste wove through the market. She kept her head high, her expression calm, but her eyes darted from stall to stall, scanning the faces of merchants and buyers alike.

The thief wouldn't be hiding here, not directly. But they would need a broker—someone to arrange the sale of the letter. And Celeste knew exactly where to look.

She stopped before a modest stall selling fine silks and lace, her lips curving into a polite smile.

"Good morning, Master Renard," she said softly.

The man behind the stall—a wiry figure with a sharp nose and shrewd eyes—looked up in surprise. "Lady Varrow," he said, bowing quickly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I've come seeking information," Celeste said, her tone casual but firm. "A letter has gone missing, one of great importance. I suspect it may have passed through certain... hands."

Renard's expression flickered, his smile turning wary. "A letter, you say? I wouldn't know anything about that, my lady."

Celeste leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice. "I think you do. And I think you know what happens to those who withhold information from the Varrow family."

Renard paled, his fingers twitching as he fiddled with the edge of a silk scarf. "I... may have heard something," he admitted finally. "A courier passed through here last night, looking for a buyer. He was in a hurry, muttering about meeting someone near the docks."

"The docks," Celeste repeated, straightening.

Renard nodded quickly. "Yes, my lady. But I don't know who he was meeting, I swear."

Celeste studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. "You've been helpful, Master Renard. I trust you'll keep this conversation between us."

"Of course, my lady," Renard said, bowing deeply.

Celeste turned on her heel, her resolve hardening.

---

The docks were quieter than she expected, the usual bustle of ships and sailors subdued in the early afternoon light. Celeste moved carefully, her senses on high alert.

She spotted the courier easily—a young man with a weathered satchel slung over his shoulder, pacing nervously near a stack of crates. He glanced around constantly, his body language screaming guilt.

Celeste approached from behind, her steps silent.

"Looking for someone?" she asked, her voice cutting through the air like a blade.

The courier jumped, spinning to face her. His eyes widened in panic as he recognized her.

"L-Lady Varrow," he stammered. "I... I don't know what you're talking about."

Celeste's lips curved into a cold smile. "I think you do."

Before the courier could bolt, she stepped closer, her presence commanding. "You have something that doesn't belong to you," she said. "Give it to me, and I might consider letting you leave here in one piece."

The man hesitated, his gaze darting to the satchel. Celeste's smile faded, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"Now."

With trembling hands, the courier opened the satchel and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. Celeste snatched it from him, her eyes narrowing as she confirmed the Duke's seal.

"Run," she said, her tone icy.

The courier didn't need to be told twice. He bolted, disappearing into the maze of crates and barrels.

Celeste exhaled slowly, clutching the letter tightly.

One battle won. But the war was far from over.

---

Back at the estate, Celeste handed the letter to Duke Durand, her expression calm despite the adrenaline still coursing through her.

"You have my gratitude, Lady Varrow," the Duke said, his voice heavy with sincerity. "You've proven yourself today."

"It was my duty, Your Grace," Celeste replied, dipping her head.

As she left the study, her heart swelled with cautious pride.

Another step forward. Another thread woven into her survival.