The day of Lady Arabella’s tea party arrived in a flurry of excitement and anticipation. Lilian stepped out of the grand white and red carriage, her maids and guards forming an impeccable line behind her. The carriage’s golden trim sparkled under the sun, and Lilian’s entrance was nothing short of spectacular.

Despite her tender age of eight, Lilian looked like a vision of elegance. She wore a breathtaking pink dress adorned with delicate flowers, which seemed to bloom around her as if she were a walking garden. Her hair was styled in two long, flowing braids that swayed with each step she took, and tiny flowers were tucked into her curls. She radiated beauty and grace, and the assembled guests couldn’t help but be captivated.

The crowd, consisting mostly of young noble girls who had been invited to the tea party, watched in awe as Lilian made her entrance. Their admiration was palpable, though it was tinged with a hint of jealousy. One particular girl, named **Helena**, stood out among the rest. Her eyes narrowed with envy as she observed Lilian, her own outfit looking dull in comparison.

As Lilian gracefully made her way up the steps to the grand mansion, Helena saw her opportunity. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she tried to trip Lilian by stealthily extending her foot. Just as Lilian was about to stumble, Celeste, in her sleek black cat form, sprang into action.

With the precision of a seasoned bodyguard, Celeste leaped into Helena’s path, her golden eyes glowing with a menacing gleam. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Celeste warned, her voice a low growl. “One more step and I’ll have to use my claws to show you what I think of that idea.”

Helena froze, her face paling as Celeste’s gaze bore into her. The other girls watched in stunned silence, and Helena, realizing she was outmatched, quickly withdrew her foot and muttered an apology.

Despite the dramatic intervention, the party didn’t go as smoothly as Lilian had hoped. The other girls continued to glare at her from across the room, their expressions a mix of jealousy and disdain. Even Lady Arabella, the hostess who had invited Lilian, wore a thin smile that barely masked her own envy.

Lilian tried her best to navigate the social minefield, her smile unwavering as she greeted the other guests. She made polite conversation, attempted to engage in the various activities, and even sampled the delectable treats laid out on the tables. However, it was clear that many of the girls were less than pleased with her presence.

Throughout the ordeal, Celeste stayed close by, either perched on a nearby chair or curling up in Lilian’s lap. The dragon’s watchful eyes never left the room, and her occasional huffs of irritation kept the other girls at bay.

At one point, Lilian tried to engage in a conversation with a group of girls discussing the latest fashion trends. “So, have any of you seen the new collection at the boutique?” she asked, hoping to make a connection.

One girl, clearly still irked by Lilian’s presence, snorted. “Oh, of course you would know all about that. It must be nice to have everything handed to you.”

Lilian’s smile faltered slightly, but she quickly recovered. “Well, I guess I’m just lucky,” she said with a light laugh. “And speaking of luck, did you hear about the recent dragon race? I heard it was quite the spectacle.”

The conversation shifted, though the mood remained tense. Lilian continued to do her best to charm the guests, though it felt like she was walking on a tightrope. Despite the chilly reception, she remained determined to make the best of the situation.

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As the tea party drew to a close, Lilian felt a wave of relief wash over her. Celeste, ever the loyal companion, hopped onto her shoulder and purred softly. “Well, that was an interesting afternoon,” Celeste remarked, her tone both comforting and sardonic. “I think you handled it admirably.”

Lilian sighed, glancing around at the now-empty ballroom. “Thanks, Celeste. I guess I’ll have to try again another time. Maybe next time I’ll have more luck with the guests.”

The carriage ride back to the palace was quiet, the joyous hum of the tea party now replaced with an uneasy silence. Lilian sat back, her thoughts tangled with the events of the afternoon. Celeste, in her cat form, nuzzled against her, offering silent comfort.

When they arrived at the palace, Lilian reluctantly made her way to the dining hall for dinner with her family. The grand dining room was a stark contrast to the drama she had just experienced; its elegant décor and richly set table seemed almost mocking in their serenity.

Sebastian, Dorian, and the Duke were already seated, their expressions ranging from casual curiosity to sternness. Lilian took her place at the table, her frustration barely concealed. She tried to muster a smile, but it was clear to everyone that something was amiss.

Sebastian, who had been casually discussing the day’s events with Dorian, paused when he noticed Lilian’s subdued demeanor. “Lilian, you seem rather out of sorts,” he remarked, concern evident in his tone.

Dorian chimed in, “Did something happen at the tea party? You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

The Duke, who had been observing his daughter in silence, finally spoke up. “What’s troubling you, Lilian? You can tell us.”

Lilian hesitated, taking a deep breath. She knew she had to be honest, but the thought of causing a scene was daunting. “Well… the tea party didn’t go as well as I had hoped. The other girls were quite unkind, and even Lady Arabella seemed envious.”

As she spoke, her frustration bubbled to the surface, her voice tinged with the remnants of a day spent dealing with unkind stares and whispered remarks. Her father’s face hardened as he listened, his anger growing with each word.

“How dare they!” the Duke roared, his fist slamming onto the table. “No one will treat my daughter with such disrespect! I’ll handle this immediately. They’ll regret ever crossing you!”

Lilian’s eyes widened in alarm as the Duke’s fury escalated. “Father, please!” she cried, her voice trembling. “There’s no need to take such drastic measures.”

The Duke’s rage seemed to build, his eyes blazing with a determination to protect his daughter at any cost. “I won’t have anyone bully or glare at my daughter! I’ll deal with every single person who attended that tea party—smoothly and decisively, if necessary!”

Lilian’s heart raced. She knew she had to act quickly to prevent her father from making a drastic decision. She thought of a plan, drawing upon her ability to manipulate emotions in her young, innocent guise.

With a deep breath, she put on her most convincing display of distress. She ran over to her father, her eyes filling with tears. “Daddy, please don’t be so angry,” she whimpered, her voice quivering. “I just wanted to make friends and be happy. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

Her tears, though fake, were convincing enough to tug at her father’s heartstrings. The Duke’s expression softened slightly as he looked at his daughter’s tear-streaked face. The transformation from fury to concern was almost immediate.

He knelt down, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Oh, Lilian,” he said, his voice much gentler. “I didn’t mean to make things worse. I just want you to be happy and safe.”

Lilian hugged him tightly, her tears still flowing, though now they were more for show than genuine sadness. “Thank you, Daddy. I don’t want anyone to be hurt. I just want to find a way to fit in.”

The Duke sighed deeply, his anger giving way to a paternal concern. “I promise I won’t do anything rash. I’ll find a way to address the issue without causing harm. Your happiness is what matters most.”

Lilian’s heart raced with relief. She had managed to calm her father down, avoiding a potentially disastrous outcome. She pulled back, wiping her fake tears and giving him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Father. I know you’ll find a way to handle this.”

The rest of the dinner passed in a more subdued atmosphere, with the Duke’s earlier anger replaced by a resolute determination to address the issue calmly. Lilian’s heart felt lighter, knowing that her father’s anger had been tempered by her heartfelt, albeit fabricated, display of distress.