Chapter 18: The Whisper and The Thorn

The grand garden in front of her was breathtaking, a blend of pristine lawns, vibrant flowers, and elegantly arranged tea tables, all bathed in soft afternoon light. The scent of freshly brewed tea lingered in the air, mixing with the hum of quiet conversation and laughter. Elites from various families filled the space, dressed in their finest. Seren couldn't help but feel a little out of place, despite her own elegant attire.

As she took a step forward, she felt a shift in the atmosphere.

It was subtle, a ripple through the still waters, yet unmistakable. Conversations slowed. Gazes flickered toward her, some with curiosity, some with quiet scrutiny. After all, she was the woman at the center of the latest scandal, the subject of whispered speculation. Eyes turned toward her, and for a second, it felt like she was the center of attention, though not in the way she would have preferred.

Then, before Seren could fully process it, she saw her.

And then—Rosalind Hawthorne stood up.

A woman of power, influence, and unwavering presence, Rosalind rarely bothered to acknowledge others so openly. For her to rise in greeting was a silent declaration, one that sent a wave of shock through the assembled guests.

Rosalind Hawthorne—the wife of one of Kael's acquaintances from the top families—was making her towards her, her posture graceful and effortless.

She was known for being reserved, choosing her social circles carefully and rarely indulging in the games the elites often played. That was why Seren had not expected her to greet her in front of everyone. But when Rosalind smiled and stepped forward to meet her, Seren was taken aback.

"Ah, Young Madam Velyne!" Rosalind's voice rang out with warmth, clear and confident, and before Seren could even react, she was enveloped in a hug. The kind of hug that spoke of genuine affection, not just the cold politeness that most elites reserved for public events.

It was unexpected, and Seren couldn't help but be stunned for a moment.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person." Her smile was warm, eyes sparkling with genuine interest. "I've heard quite a bit about you."

Seren's heart skipped slightly at the attention, but she didn't let it show. She returned the hug, her expression poised as always, and accepted Rosalind' greetings.

"The pleasure is mine, Madam Hawthorne will

," Seren murmured, her voice smooth but carrying a hint of warmth that only someone as perceptive as Rosalind would notice, and the same time she was taken off guard but grateful for the kindness in her gesture.

She had heard of Rosalind's reputation—powerful, influential, and fiercely independent. She didn't care much for what people thought of her, and it was clear now that she was extending that same disregard for convention to Seren.

As Rosalind pulled back, she gave Seren an approving look. "Come, let me show you around," she said, her arm linking through Seren's. She led her into the heart of the event, effortlessly parting the crowd as she did.

Seren, too, was caught off guard. She hadn't expected this—not from someone so highly regarded among the elite. But she didn't let her surprise show.

Instead, she met Rosalind's gaze, reading the quiet amusement and intrigue behind it.

A hushed silence followed. The weight of that introduction wasn't lost on anyone.

The guests around them, many of whom had been whispering in hushed tones, were now staring openly. Rosalind was known for being calm and collected, someone who rarely went out of her way to engage with others unless she was certain they were worth her time. The fact that she was greeting Seren so warmly was a statement in itself, one that rippled through the room like a stone dropped in a pond.

The sudden show of friendliness startled everyone around them. Seren, who was used to the icy formality of high society, was also caught off guard by Rosalind's openness.

Then, the murmur of whispers grew louder, eyes widening in disbelief. They were well aware of Rosalind's reputation for avoiding people she deemed unworthy of her time, so her greeting to Seren was far more than a simple politeness—it was an announcement.

Rosalind's stance was clear: Seren was not to be disregarded.

"I must say, you look even more stunning than I could have imagined, Young Madam Velyne," Rosalind continued, her tone light but full of meaning. "I've heard such wonderful things about you, and I can't wait to get to know you better."

The tension in the air thickened. Seren noticed a few eyes—those who had been whispering earlier—quickly look away, perhaps realizing that this wasn't the moment to show disdain.

Seren smiled, her heart racing but her demeanor unwavering. "Thank you, Madam Hawthorne," she replied, the formality slipping easily from her lips. "It's an honor to be here."

But the more Seren observed, the more she understood that Rosalind's greeting was not just to make her feel welcome—it was a statement. A statement that no one would dare challenge her presence here, not while Rosalind stood firmly at her side.

Seren's steps faltered for a brief moment. She had not expected such attention, and the unexpected warmth from Rosalind made her feel slightly off-balance. But she quickly gathered herself, pressing a smile to her lips and standing a little taller. This is just the beginning, she thought, her gaze sweeping across the room.

Though she tried not to let her surprise show, she couldn't deny the shifting energy around her. Some guests were staring at her, their curiosity piqued, while others seemed to be trying to gauge just how much power Rosalind's greeting signified. She couldn't help but notice the whispers, the glances exchanged behind fans and teacups.

"Do you know," Rosalind's voice broke through her thoughts, "that you're the talk of the town right now, Young Madam Seren? You've managed to stir quite the interest."

Seren blinked. "I—what do you mean?"

"Oh, don't play coy," Rosalind chuckled softly. "You've made quite the impression, and you're already receiving more attention than you likely bargained for. But it's all good. We'll make sure you're in good company."

The warmth of Rosalind's words washed over Seren, but her mind was already racing. This is not going to be an ordinary tea party, she realized. Not with all this attention.

As they made their way deeper into the gathering, Seren could feel the weight of the stares upon her, but she refused to let it break her composure. Rosalind had already given her an unspoken invitation to stand tall and take her place among them. And Seren was ready.

She just didn't know yet how much she would have to endure before she could make her own mark.

As they moved away, the crowd fell into hushed murmurs, some with expressions of surprise, others with curiosity. This was no ordinary gesture. Rosalind didn't typically align herself with newcomers, especially not with someone like Seren, who still bore the weight of whispered rumors. The eyes that watched them now saw the two women walking together, not as rivals, but as allies.

As Seren and Rosalind walked through the garden, the tension in the air began to thicken. The soft rustling of the leaves and the faint murmur of the other guests seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the more deliberate, calculating presence of Elara.

Because with just those words, Rosalind had made her stance clear. She wasn't dismissing Seren like the others had expected. She was acknowledging her.

And that… that changed everything.

Some of the guests exchanged quick glances, reassessing their approach. But not everyone was pleased with this turn of events.

Others frowned, displeased by this unexpected development.

And among them, standing at the far end of the salon, Elara's fingers curled around her teacup, her grip tightening just slightly.

This was not how things were supposed to go.

Not at all.

A few paces behind, Elara stood, her expression a mask of careful indifference. Her eyes flicked between the retreating figures of Seren and Rosalind, her lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. It was clear to anyone who paid attention that she was not happy. The game was not going the way she had planned.

"Well, well," Elara murmured softly to no one in particular, her voice low but carrying in the stillness of the garden. "I suppose it's only natural that the Young Madam Velyne would attract the attention of the top dogs." Her words, though spoken under her breath, were sharp—sharp enough to be heard by those standing nearby.

Her words were like daggers, meant to provoke, but they were directed at the wrong target. Seren, now walking beside Rosalind, didn't hear them. But the guests who had been watching the exchange—the ones who were still clinging to the idea that Seren was just another naive young woman—began to shift uneasily.

Rosalind glanced back over her shoulder, as if sensing the shift in the air, but she said nothing. She didn't need to. Her smile was still there, warm and inviting, as she led Seren further into the garden, away from the prying eyes of the other elites.