Lara sipped her tea with deliberate calm, the delicate porcelain warm against her fingers. She nibbled on the pastries, their sweetness muted by the bitterness rising at the back of her throat. Across from her, Mira sparkled like a polished gemstone—chatty, animated, a natural charmer. Her voice lilted with laughter and exaggerated expressions as she recounted tales clearly crafted to amuse.
Princess Ceres was enthralled. She leaned in eagerly, delighting in every word Mira offered. They seemed to speak in a private language of flattery and pretense. Meanwhile, Lara remained the quiet observer, her presence uninvited in their lively duet.
After a while, she set down her teacup with a soft clink and gently cut through Mira's story.
"Princess, Mira," she said, her voice faint. "I don't feel well. I think I need to lie down for a bit."
The princess and Mira exchanged a swift, knowing glance—too quick to be innocent.