Chapter 3: Whispers of the Gordondale

A few days later, I was invited to attend the tea party hosted at Everhart, an event many young noblewomen in the region coveted an invitation to.

When I arrived, I glanced around the crowded ballroom, adjusting the light blue silk of my gown as I took in the familiar scene. The long tables were lined with gleaming silver trays of delicate pastries and small sandwiches, the finest china set out in pristine rows. The scent of freshly brewed tea and lavender wafted through the room.

Despite the elegance of the scene, my mind was elsewhere, caught between the past and the present. As I watched the carefree smiles and light conversation around me, I couldn't help but feel the weight of my secret. I was one of these carefree girls living the peaceful life until the reality taught me a cruel lesson.

Beside me, my best friend, Lyra Everhart, chatted easily with one of the other girls, her vibrant red curls bouncing as she laughed at some small joke. Lyra had been my closest companion for as long as I could remember, the one person I could rely on to see me through anything.

She was the daughter of one of the most prominent noble families in the Vale region, and her friendship had always been a source of strength for me. Her bright personality, combined with her sharp wit, made her beloved by nearly everyone.

"Isadora," Lyra said, nudging me gently. "You've been quiet. What's on your mind?"

I smiled, though it felt tight at the edges. "Just... thinking. You know how my mind wanders."

She arched an eyebrow, her green eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Well, let it wander somewhere more entertaining, won't you? We're at a party, not a philosophy club."

I laughed softly, grateful for her attempt to lighten my mood.

But as I looked around the room, my attention was drawn to a group of girls standing by one of the large windows that overlooked the gardens. Among them was a face I recognized immediately—Cassandra Winters.

In my previous life, there were rumors about her being killed by Idris shortly after her marriage with him.

Cassandra stood quietly, her soft ginger hair catching the sunlight as it spilled through the window. She wore a pale blue gown, simple yet elegant, and her expression was calm, though there was a hint of discomfort in the way she shifted from foot to foot. She was surrounded by several noblewomen, all of them smiling and chatting, though their eyes told a different story.

I had seen this before—this subtle cruelty that hid behind polite smiles. And I knew exactly what was happening.

As I moved closer, their voices became clearer.

"I can't believe you wore that color again, Cassandra," one of the girls said, her tone deceptively sweet but dripping with condescension. "You really should try something more... daring. That shade washes you out."

Cassandra's cheeks flushed, and she gave a small, hesitant smile. "I thought it was nice."

"Nice?" another girl laughed, her sharp eyes narrowing as she looked Cassandra up and down. "Nice is for peasants. Aren't you one of the Gordondale maids? You should look the part."

I bristled, my hands curling into fists at my sides. I had seen this kind of bullying before—girls who hid their cruelty behind well-chosen words and practiced smiles. Cassandra, with her quiet demeanor and gentle nature, was an easy target for their barbs.

But this time, I wasn't going to stand by and let it happen.

I stepped forward, interrupting the circle of girls with a calm but firm voice. "Is there a problem here?"

The group of girls turned toward me, their eyes widening in surprise at my sudden appearance. The lead girl, dressed in an elaborate green gown that seemed almost too bold for her pale complexion, blinked at me, her lips curving into a forced smile.

"Oh, Isadora," she said, her voice syrupy sweet. "We were just giving Cassandra a little fashion advice. Don't you think she could use a bit of... guidance?"

I held her gaze, my own smile thin and unwavering. "I think Cassandra looks lovely just as she is."

There was a moment of tense silence, the air between us thick with unspoken challenge. The other girls exchanged glances, clearly uncomfortable with my intervention. But I wasn't about to back down.

Lyra, who had followed me over, stepped in smoothly, her voice bright but edged with steel. "Isadora's right. Cassandra looks perfect for the occasion. If anyone is interested in the new dresses I bought, come to my bedroom."

The girl in green flushed slightly, her forced smile faltering as she realized she had lost the upper hand. She glanced at her companions, decided to take Lyra's offer and diverted the conversation.

With that, she gave a haughty toss of her head and turned away, leading her group of followers out of the circle. I watched them go, my heart still pounding in my chest from the confrontation, but I felt a sense of satisfaction settle over me.

Turning back to Cassandra, I softened my tone. "Are you alright?"

Cassandra blinked up at me, her brown eyes wide with surprise. "Yes. I... I'm fine. Thank you."

I smiled gently, nodding. "Good. Don't let them get to you."

She returned the smile, though it was still tinged with a hint of sadness. "I try not to, but... it's hard."

My heart softened at her words, and I felt a pang of sympathy for her. Cassandra had always been quiet, the kind of girl who faded into the background, never drawing attention to herself.

As I stood there, watching her, a strange thought crossed my mind. In my past life, I hadn't paid much attention to Cassandra. She had been little more than a figure in the background, a girl who had met a tragic fate at the hands of Idris.

But now, seeing her like this—so vulnerable, so clearly struggling to find her place in this world—I realized that there was more to her than I had ever given her credit for.

The rest of the tea party continued without further incident. As the afternoon wore on, I found myself drawn to the large balcony that overlooked the Everhart gardens, lost in thoughts about Idris.

The girls had spoken of him in passing earlier, their words filled with disdain and dismissal. He was cold, distant, unlikable. Not at all like his charming brother, Tristan, who seemed to capture everyone's attention with his easy smile and magnetic personality.

But as I stood there, watching the gardens below, I couldn't help but wonder if there was more to Idris than what people saw on the surface.

After all, Cassandra had chosen him. There had to be something about him—something she saw that others didn't. And if I was going to stop the future I had lived before, I needed to understand what that something was.

I heard footsteps approaching behind me and turned to see Cassandra standing at the entrance to the balcony, her hands clasped in front of her as she hesitated at the threshold.

"Isadora?" she said softly, her voice tentative. "May I join you?"

I smiled and gestured for her to come closer. "Of course."

There was a moment of silence between us, the sounds of the tea party fading into the background as we stood together, looking out over the peaceful scene. Then, after a long pause, Cassandra spoke again, her voice quiet and hesitant.

"I wanted to thank you," she said, her gaze still fixed on the flowers below. "For standing up for me earlier. I... I'm not very good at that sort of thing."

I turned to her, my expression softening. "You don't need to thank me. Those girls were being cruel. You didn't deserve that."

She smiled faintly, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Maybe. But it happens more often than you'd think."

I frowned, my heart aching at the sadness in her voice. "Why? Why would they do that?"

Cassandra sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. "Because I'm not like them. I don't fit in the way they do. And... well, there's the matter of Idris."

Her words sent a jolt of surprise through me, and I studied her more closely. "What about Idris?"

She hesitated, biting her lip as if unsure whether to continue. But after a moment, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "People don't understand him. They think he's cold, distant. And... maybe he is. But he's also kind. He's just... different."

I blinked, taken aback by her words. Kind? Idris? The same Idris who had shown no mercy, no emotion, as he killed my family? The man I had come to fear and despise? It seemed impossible.

But Cassandra's expression was sincere, her eyes filled with a quiet determination that made me pause. She believed what she was saying. She had seen something in him that I had never seen before.

"I know it sounds strange," she continued, her voice soft. "But there's more to him than people realize. He's not like his brother. He's... well, he's complicated."

Complicated. That was an understatement.