Chapter : 92 "Tea In The Garden Of Ghost"

The morning sun streamed through parted curtains, brushing gold across the blackwood floors. Inside, August Everheart D'Rosaye stood before the full-length mirror in his chamber. He dressed with careful silence, the fabric sliding against his skin like memory.

An ivory shirt, crisp and fine as parchment. Tight charcoal trousers that clung neatly to his slim waist. His long coat—shadowy grey with subtle embroidery at the cuffs—folded around him like dusk at the edges of day. Polished boots reached his knees. His white hair, silken and curled, had been gathered into a loose ribbon at his nape.

He did not dress for guests.

He dressed like someone going to meet a question.

Outside, Giles stood beside the waiting carriage, adjusting the harness and brushing dust from the velvet seats with precise gloved hands. The horses snorted, stirring frost from the morning air.

A week had passed.

And in that time, Elias had awakened… and forgotten.

So now, August stepped into the carriage not as a man ready for company—but as one walking toward a forgotten door, unsure of what waited behind it.

The journey was quiet. Half an hour passed beneath the rhythmic sound of hooves and wheels.

And then they arrived.

The Virelle estate stood in elegant grandeur, draped in ivy and kissed by sunlight. Its gates opened without a word, and the guards bowed their heads deeply as August stepped down.

Another butler—Luther, poised and youthful in sharp grey livery—approached and bowed.

"Master August," he said smoothly, "Lady Katherine awaits you."

They moved through the manor, hallways dressed in marble and tapestries that danced with soft morning light.

And then—

He saw her.

Lady Katherine Virelle.

She looked like she had stepped out of a royal portrait and never quite returned. No older than thirty, with long shimmering hair the color of silver-white moonlight, her figure was tall, graceful, radiant. She wore a lavender gown embroidered with golden vines, and the sunlight catching her from the window lit her eyes like ripe tangerines—bright, intelligent, fiercely alive.

She sat reading when they entered, legs crossed, ankle draped elegantly over the other. One hand rested against her cheek, the other trailing over the open pages of a worn book.

"My lady," Luther announced softly, "Master August has arrived."

She looked up.

And everything changed.

"August?" she gasped, rising so quickly the book tumbled onto the cushion beside her. "Oh—oh heavens, my beautiful angel!"

She hurried to him, skirts brushing over marble, and wrapped her arms around him before he could react. Her embrace was warm and full of perfume and silk and years of missed birthdays.

"I never thought you'd visit me—truly visit me—not without being dragged!" she cried, pressing her lips against both his cheeks. "Oh, look at you—you're still the most beautiful creature in all of Valemont."

August stood still, letting her affection land on him like petals he couldn't quite hold.

She stepped back, eyes gleaming. "Luther!" she called over her shoulder, already taking his hand. "Set the garden terrace! Bring sweets, tea, everything my angel might crave."

Luther bowed and disappeared with Giles.

Katherine turned to August, smiling so brightly it made the lilies in the wallpaper seem pale.

"Come," she said, twining her arm through his. "Let me show you the garden. It's still blooming, just like I told it to. Jasmine and lilies—your mother's favorites. And mine. Because they remind me of you."

They stepped into the garden, where stone pathways wound through thick green hedges and climbing vines. Jasmine blossoms trailed down from trellises like whispered songs, and lilies bloomed in white and pink, swaying gently in the breeze.

The table had already been set—sweet cakes, crystal decanters, delicate pastries.

"Sit, my boy," she said, sweeping down into her chair with practiced grace. "Let me look at you properly."

He obeyed.

Her smile faltered slightly. She saw it now.

"You've lost weight," she murmured, reaching forward, brushing her fingers against his jaw. "You're not eating properly again, are you?"

Still, August said nothing.

His eyes were on the silver spoon resting beside his plate.

Katherine leaned closer. "Something's wrong," she said gently. "You never come here without a reason. You carry your silence like a sword, but I see the edges."

A pause.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers—eyes smoky grey, as unreadable as ever.

"Aunt," he said softly. "Did my mother… have any relatives?"

Katherine stilled.

Just slightly.

But August noticed. Of course he did.

Her eyes lowered to her gloved hands, folded neatly on her lap.

"Why do you ask that?"

"Because I want the truth," he replied. "Did she?"

She hesitated. Then sighed. Her expression shifted—no longer bright and teasing, but older somehow. Not in age, but in weight.

"You always did ask questions like a blade slipping into the ribs," she whispered, almost fondly. "Yes. Your mother she... She had a sister."

August blinked.

"She died," Katherine continued. "When you were just a year old.

" Her name was " Maralise."

He stared at her. "She was your mother twin.

"Her twin."

August's world tilted slightly. He gripped the armrest of his chair.

"She looked exactly like your mother,"

Katherine said, voice softening. "They were different, but bound like mirrors. Your mother was fire and ferocity—Maralise was quieter. Mature. Thoughtful. She was beautiful too.

They both were."

His breath caught faintly.

"And your father"

Katherine's lips curved faintly.

"Raden," she said. "My brother. Cold as frost, until he saw your mother. They were a storm and a star—so opposite they found balance. He smiled for her. He changed. And when he asked her to marry him, the whole court cried."

"And then…."

"Yes," she whispered. "You. When you were born, maralise held you in her arms and told Annalise, 'He's too perfect. He'll break hearts before he can even speak.' And she laughed. Oh gods, how she laughed."

Her voice cracked just a little, but she masked it with a sip of tea.

"Annalise said, 'When he grows up, he'll confuse the world. No one will know who the mother is.' And then she closed her eyes—so tired from the labor—and Maralise placed you gently in the crib, gave you her finger to suck, and smiled."

A long silence settled between them.

Then August said, very quietly: "Why didn't anyone tell me?"

Katherine looked at him—not as a lady to her heir, but as a woman to someone she loved too much to wound.

"Because we wanted to protect you from grief you couldn't name. From truths that would haunt you too early. And because… your parents death shattered all of us."

August lowered his eyes to his palms. His fingers curled slowly inward.

And the lilies swayed in the wind like heads bowing to memory.

Katherine watched him in silence for a moment, her eyes drifting over his face as though studying a portrait that had changed while no one was looking.

"You were so cute back then," she murmured at last, her voice touched with nostalgia. "Always clinging to my skirts, asking the strangest questions. Eyes like stormclouds, hair like moonlight."

She smiled faintly.

"And now…" she tilted her head slightly, "now look at you—like you've forgotten what joy feels like. As if you don't know what life is anymore."

August's fingers twitched where they rested beside the delicate teacup.

Her smile deepened—not mocking, but warm, gently teasing.

"It's all right," she said softly. "Make that face, darling. My brother was the same. Cold. Distant. Like a castle with no door." Her voice softened further. "Until he was softened by love."

August looked away, but not before the faintest flush of pink touched his cheekbones.

Katherine noticed.

Of course she noticed.

"And what about you, hmm?" she asked, her tone lilting with mischief now. "Shall we start looking for someone who could soften your walls? Someone who could make my angel happy?"

August turned his head sharply, but not in protest.

In panic.

A deeper shade of crimson bloomed across his cheeks, creeping to the tips of his ears. His lips parted slightly—no words came, only a quiet breath he hadn't meant to release.

"Oh…" Katherine said with delight, her laughter bubbling like a silver stream. "Oh, there it is. That blush."

August narrowed his eyes—not angrily, but as if attempting to freeze the air between them.

"I—" he began, but she lifted a finger like a queen commanding silence.

"I know, I know," she said, grinning now, elegant and impish. "My dear angel doesn't fall in love, does he? Not our August, not the boy carved from marble and wrapped in mystery."

She leaned back in her chair, gaze never leaving his face.

"But still…" she said, softer now, "you blushed."

He turned his head further, now looking to the side—at the lilies, at the shadows between leaves, anywhere but her eyes.

Katherine's smirk softened into something beautiful—knowing, proud, and unbearably tender.

"It must be someone precious then," she said. "Someone very precious, for you to blush like that."

August's jaw tightened.

She didn't press.

Didn't demand.

She simply smiled.

And he, still flushed, muttered lowly, "Enough."

That made her laugh again—not loudly, but richly, like music meant only for the garden to hear.

"You're right," she said, brushing a strand of silver-white hair behind her ear. "Enough."

She reached across the table and poured more tea for him, her movements slow and deliberate, graceful as always.

Then, with a wink: "But I'm glad."

August's eyes flicked to her, guarded, questioning.

"I'm glad," she said again, "because you deserve to have someone. Whether you admit it or not."

The jasmine rustled gently above them.

And for a rare moment, August didn't look like a boy carved from silence.

He looked… young.

Alive.

Almost—

Hopeful.