Chapter 1.37: Tea With Cake
The dark-haired heiress sat on the patio chair atop a plush cushion with a thin blanket on her lap. At her side, Ezekiel sat without any of the additives, with a blank look on his face. They both had a full plate of food put in front of them by servers. Said servers were currently shaking as they poured the jade-eyed woman a cup of half n half. The other woman had made slide comments about their service and now they were nervous wrecks.
Seeing this and how Cortina bit her tongue made Leila feel her mood dampen, and she gave a smile. This helped calm down the poor pair, but being in the preference of the catty women was too much. It displeased the heiress with how childish they were. She had assumed that they could behave themselves at such an important meeting and be professional. Now that she was here eating and conversing with them face to face, she realized she had guessed wrong.
Her dainty white fork pushed its teeth into one of the desserts on her plate. Soft, buttery breading gave way to a delicious golden custard. She recognized the dish as being a small slice of bread pudding. Leila brought the fork up to her mouth, parted her lips, and took it all in with one bite. It melted on her tongue and tasted a tad salty from the butter used. She never was much of a pudding person, choosing to eat more classic cakes instead.
But besides this note, the slice had a great flavor, and she ate some more while the others talked. One of the women in the group, a coily-haired girl whose family ran a large ruby mine, was speaking. With a tone that contrasted heavily with her country's appearance, the mining prodigy was a bother. She was loyal to the royal family and ensured Leila heard this as she practically shouted it from the rooftops. There were little digs as the former assassin tag made the other woman flush and giggle.
The heiress almost asked why she was here then, but the country girl quickly changed her tune. She shared that the royal family was imposing horrific taxes on her family's mines on their soil. Brash and misogynistic mercenaries had threatened her Ma months prior, making her feel enraged. They kept coming and her family was too loyal to voice their confusion at the sudden persecution. Her family's livelihood suddenly was at stake and she started to really think about how things were running.
With the threats going from verbal to outright sabotage, the loyalist decided to work for a change. This was the only reason she willingly invested in a charity that openly had an affiliation with a traitor. Even the sight of the smiling Leila clearly made the country girl sick and she had a look that screamed disgust at her inclusion. The powerful emotion in these comments beat the reality of the royal family’s nationalistic nature into Leila’s head. It only further proved that to defeat them, she had to start from the political side.
These women were nobles. They weren’t from the same nation as the royal family, but benefited from their praise. The country they lived in had functioned as a puppet nation for years. Most middle-and upper-class families fully believed in the message the King preached to them over the years. If she were to get up and declare a rebellion against them because of Cleo’s treatment, they would have a race to see who could contact the royals the fastest. To get these women and others like them on her side, she needed power.
Leila had to have a pull on the local and national economy, underworld, and media that was strong enough to give those bastards a run for their money. Her name had to be powerful enough for them to risk their lives and wealth to give her support. And there was no guarantee that support would be public until she had defeated a good portion of the royal's pack of loyal mutts. The jade-eyed heiress ate more pudding as her face clouded. She was delving deeper into her inner thoughts as they spoke.
"Sir, would you like a drink?" One of the servers asked Ezekiel with a meek tone. They looked scared of the man and stayed a respectful distance away.
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This pissed Leila off, as she and Ezekiel knew why they looked so horrified. It wasn't because of the status he was in. Or the fact he was working for her family, a traitor to the royal family. They had taken one glance at his sandy hair and complexion, then gasped. They recognized he was a foreigner and from a former enemy nation. Their ancestors had fought and eventually enslaved his people. The man was staring back at them with a blank expression. He was used to this; she realized. A sick feeling settled in Leila’s stomach as she bit her lip.
Ezekiel held out his hand and gestured for the servants to come closer. "I'd love a cup of that cherry lemonade, please." He looked over at Leila with a soft smile as he continued. "She does too."
A weird butterfly-like feeling filled her belly at the glance. The dark-haired girl wasn't sure who was actually feeling it, Cleo or herself. It was a struggle to untangle if the child version of the assassin had romantic feelings towards him. Leila knew for sure that she didn't. All the heiress wanted was to free him from the agreement Cleo's parents put him under. It didn't sit right with her that the man was enslaved by them, even if the physical chains were gone. And eventually, she would find a way to break her spell over his mind permanently.
A moment of tense silence passed as neither server moved. They looked at each other, unsure who should go. Eventually, the servant closest to the two gulped and scrambled over. The pitcher they were carrying content sloshed around uncomfortably as they neared. Droplets of lemonade spilled on the table and onto Ezekiel's chest as the servant nearly fell onto them. It wasn't a lot, but it was enough to be noticeable. His front was soaking wet and stained. This left the poor women horrifically pale and the guard to just stare in acceptance.
"Don't bother saying sorry," Quincy commented as the servant opened and clamped their lips shut repeatedly. "The help shouldn't be getting privileges, anyway. He shouldn't even be sitting with us."
"Will you drop the queen bee act and just say your issue with me to my face? I'm right here. Say it with your chest." Leila spat out the words and leaned forward. She planted her hands on the table with her lips curving into a wide, gauzy smile.
The blue-haired noblewoman raised her shoulders in a dramatic shrug. "What? You bring a dog into a home you don't even own and expect your fellow guests to keep quiet? Please, stop playing the victim."
Before Leila could curse the woman and knock her out, Cortina stood up. Her seat fell backward and slapped onto the floor loudly. With a tense exhale, her flushed face contorted into a heartbroken frown. The heiress could tell the woman was serious about the parry and hated Quincy's comments. But Leila still was angry that the woman didn't speak up earlier. To any of the women who made snide retorts directed towards her and rolled their eyes. All she could think was standing in now was great, but a little too late for her personally.
"I'm getting sick of your attitude. You agreed to meet her and hear about her experience. You swore to me that you would behave no matter what. But you've treated her and her guest like garbage and spoken over her numerous times. I'm serious when I say that I would like you to leave. Please, go and take the boxes you brought with you." Cortina spoke to Quincy directly, who huffed and puffed.
With a hair flick, she dramatically started to get up and gather her things. "Whatever. You will come crawling back to me, sobbing after she throws you to the dogs. She's a killer, after all." Her heels clicked loudly as she gave Cortina a stone-cold glance.
With her boxes in her arms, she looked at Leila with her upper lip curling into a scowl. The heiress stared back, daring her to speak. Instead of starting another argument, the woman simply shook her head with a small chuckle. She put in extra effort to bump shoulders with her as she walked away. The bump was hard as hell with Quincy attempting to knock her onto the ground. This move nearly caused Leila to go after her. Right as she got ready to move, Ezekiel stopped her. His hand wrapped tightly around her arm, pinning it down against the table.
With that, their curly-haired host directed her disappointment toward the remaining women. "Anyone who shares her opinions or behavior can follow." Her hands were balled into fists as she seethed. "I'll have my mother's men escort you out. "