Chapter 19: The Attack

As Seren and Rosalind walked through the lush garden, a shift in the atmosphere became palpable. The soft murmurs of the other guests, the gentle clinking of porcelain teacups—all seemed to dull as a pair of sharp heels clicked against the stone path with purpose.

Elara.

She approached like a queen surveying her court, her smile poised, her eyes glinting with something unreadable—but beneath the polished exterior, Seren could see it. The quiet malice. The carefully measured hostility.

Elara had been watching. Waiting.

And now, she had found her moment.

Elara, who had been standing a little distance away, watching the interaction with growing disdain, finally made her move. She stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply against the cobbled path, drawing the attention of those around her. The moment was unmistakable—she wasn't going to let Seren slip away without a confrontation.

"Young Madam Velyne," Elara drawled, her voice as smooth as silk, yet laced with an unmistakable edge. "What a pleasant surprise. I was beginning to wonder if you'd grace us with your presence."

Seren came to a slow stop, turning her gaze toward the woman who had set half the aristocracy whispering behind their fans.

A beat of silence passed.

Then, Seren smiled—soft, serene, effortless.

"How fortunate for me, then," she said lightly, "that I don't base my schedule around your expectations, Young Madam Elara."

A ripple of barely suppressed amusement flickered across Rosalind's face, but she wisely said nothing. Around them, a few guests subtly leaned in, sensing the rising tension beneath the surface.

Elara's lips twitched, though whether in irritation or amusement was unclear.

"Ah, but of course," she replied smoothly. "You must be terribly busy adjusting to your… new life." She tilted her head, as though scrutinizing Seren. "Tell me, how is it, settling into such a prestigious position so suddenly? It must be quite the challenge."

Seren recognized the barb instantly.

A lesser woman might have flinched at the veiled insult—that she was unworthy, an outsider suddenly thrust into the world of the elite, stumbling her way through.

But Seren?

Seren only tilted her head, her smile unfaltering.

"Oh, not at all," she said, her voice light, almost sweet. "Everything has been going rather smoothly. But it's touching that you're so concerned. I didn't realize you took such a personal interest in my affairs."

Elara's expression didn't waver, but Seren caught the slight stiffening of her fingers against her teacup.

Rosalind let out a soft, amused hum.

"I must say, Young Madam Elara," Rosalind interjected smoothly, "it's refreshing to see such concern for another's well-being." Her tone was pleasant, but the weight behind her words was unmistakable.

Elara flicked her gaze toward Rosalind, her jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. She had miscalculated.

But she wasn't done yet.

"Concern?" Elara echoed, regaining her composure. "Oh no, it's just… curiosity." Her eyes slid back to Seren, sharp and assessing. "You see, it's so fascinating how quickly certain… opportunities present themselves to some."

Another insult.

This time, a clear insinuation that Seren hadn't earned her place—that she had merely stumbled into it through luck or convenience.

Seren's smile didn't falter, but something behind her gaze turned colder.

"I suppose that depends," she murmured, taking a slow step closer.

Elara didn't move, but Seren saw her shoulders tense slightly.

"Some opportunities," Seren continued, her voice deceptively soft, "are given to those who can truly handle them. And some… slip through desperate fingers, no matter how tightly they're grasped."

The moment the words left her lips, a silent wave rippled through the audience.

Several guests' eyes widened slightly, glancing at Elara, then back at Seren.

Because everyone knew.

The entire elite circle was aware that Elara had long set her sights on the Young Master of the Velyne family. Her affection for him had been an open secret—whispered about at lavish banquets, speculated upon in private gatherings.

And yet, despite all her efforts, she had never succeeded.

Now, those same eyes looked at Elara, watching for her reaction, gauging the meaning behind Seren's words.

Elara's nails pressed against the porcelain of her cup, her grip tightening ever so slightly. A muscle in her jaw twitched, and for the first time, the polished mask she wore cracked—just a little.

Seren had struck a nerve.

Rosalind took a slow sip of her tea, utterly delighted.

Nearby, a few guests exchanged glances, whispers beginning to ripple through the crowd. They had expected Seren to be meek, overwhelmed, even hesitant.

Instead, she was standing toe-to-toe with Elara, unfazed.

And winning.

Elara, realizing she was now the one under scrutiny, forced a short, airy laugh.

She took a deep breath trying hard to stabilize her emotions, then after collecting herself, her eyes flickered between Seren and Rosalind, a thin smile tugging at her lips. "I've heard quite a bit about you, Young Madam Velyne. Some rather… interesting rumors, to be precise." The words lingered in the air, calculated, designed to push Seren into a defensive posture.

Seren's smile was soft, controlled, but there was a sharpness behind her eyes. She knew exactly what Elara was trying to do—trying to make her uncomfortable, to get a reaction. But Seren wasn't so easily rattled. Instead, she let the words hang in the air for a moment before responding, her voice smooth, unbothered.

"I'm sure rumors are always more colorful when they're passed along," Seren replied, her tone light, almost casual. "But I find that the truth tends to outshine them in the end, don't you think?"

The response was measured, a subtle deflection that defused Elara's attempt to plant doubt. For a brief moment, Elara's eyes narrowed, but her smile remained firmly in place.

"Well, let's hope so," she said, her gaze flickering to Rosalind for a moment, before returning to Seren. "But it's always interesting to see for oneself, don't you agree? I've been so curious about the woman who could capture the heart of the Young Master. I've heard so much, after all."

There it was again—the jab, subtle but sharp. Elara was trying to provoke Seren, to make her second-guess herself, to question her worth in front of this audience. She wanted to expose Seren's vulnerabilities, to chip away at the calm exterior she so effortlessly projected.

But Seren didn't flinch, after all, this is second time she would will talking about her relationship with Kael. Her expression softened, and she leaned slightly in, her voice lowering just enough for only the two of them to hear, though everyone nearby would undoubtedly be listening.

"Curiosity can be dangerous," Seren said with an almost imperceptible smile. "You should be careful about where it leads you."

The words hung in the air like a challenge, poised and powerful. There was no defensiveness, no anger—just quiet authority. Elara's smile faltered for the briefest of moments, her eyes flashing with a flicker of irritation.

"I do hope you aren't threatening me, Young Madam," Elara said, her voice dropping to a lower, more venomous pitch.

Seren straightened, her gaze unblinking. "Threats are unnecessary when the truth is so much more powerful, Elara." She took a small step back, allowing her calm aura to fill the space between them. "But I'm sure you already know that."

"My, how bold," she remarked, though the sharpness in her tone betrayed her true feelings. "I must say, Young Madam Velyne, you certainly know how to surprise."

Seren's smile remained, unwavering.

"Only those who underestimate me," she said softly.

It was clear now. Seren wasn't the naive, easily shaken woman that Elara had hoped to find. Her composure was a weapon, one that Elara had underestimated. For a brief moment, Elara stood there, taken aback, her mind racing to find a counter to Seren's cool confidence.

But it was too late.

Elara's eyes darkened, but before she could speak again, Rosalind placed a gentle hand on Seren's arm.

"Shall we?" she asked, her voice perfectly pleasant, yet carrying the unspoken message: This conversation is over.

Seren, ever the picture of grace, gave a polite nod to Rosalind, signaling that she was ready to move on. Seren gave Elara one last look, then turned with Rosalind, effortlessly dismissing her.

Elara remained rooted in place, her expression unreadable.

But as Seren and Rosalind walked away, she could feel the weight of Elara's burning gaze at her back.

And she smiled.

Because Elara had just realized something—

Seren wasn't someone she could toy with.

Seren's expression never wavered as she turned to continue walking with Rosalind, but in the back of her mind, a quiet satisfaction bubbled to the surface.

Elara had tried to corner her, but Seren had turned the tables effortlessly, leaving her rival to stew in the silence of her defeat.

Elara opened her mouth to retort but closed it again, sensing the futility of the situation. With a last, lingering glance at Seren, she stepped back, her smile now a tight, forced thing.

The tea event had started as a carefully curated gathering, but the atmosphere had shifted into something more intense, something unspoken yet palpable. The tension that lingered from Elara's earlier attempts to corner Seren had not gone unnoticed, and whispers traveled like a quiet storm through the elegantly arranged garden.