A waitress, holding a tray of desserts, walked to the table at the corner of the café. She quietly approached the two customers, careful not to disturb their conversation. She lightly tapped her feet. Its muffled noise attracted the two’s attention.
Lorient looked at the waitress, at the appetising desserts, and smiled. She got up, drew close to the waitress, and helped her arrange the plates and cutleries. Her expertise gave off an illusion of a well-trained maid of a royal, a lady-in-waiting of a princess.
In trance the waitress muttered words of service and ambled away. Her eyes reflected ghostly stars which bloomed within her mind. She couldn’t even remember the face of the other lady, only that maid-like customer.
Under this magical veil, none would remember them, and none would hear their conversation.
“Has she caught your eyes, Lorient?” Iris said. “I wouldn’t mind if you chose her.”
“Please don’t test my heart, Mistress. I only cast that spell to stop her from endangering herself.”
“Am I that dangerous?”
“You’re too precious. Your beauty will tempt even the most virtuous.” Lorient shifted her posture, pressing her hands on her thighs. “And I don’t want you to tempt them. I don’t want them to soil your purity.”
“My purity?” Iris picked up her dessert spoon and, grinning, cut a piece of cheesecake and put it in her mouth. She slowly licked the spoon, her tongue coiling around its smooth surface. “Which part of me, of this body, is untainted by shameful desires?”
“Nothing shameful has ever sullied you, Mistress.” Lorient’s voice simmered. Her conviction manifested as bright gleams in her eyes. “I believe our intimacy to be clean. Does Mistress believe otherwise?”
“Should I?”
Lorient lowered her head. “If I were to be selfish, would you accept my request?”
“Will you taint me once I considered your touch impure?”
“I would not!”
Despite her urge, Lorient would never taint her mistress. Mistress was too elegant, too angelic, too noble to have her snow-white appearance stained.
“What if you have my permission?” Iris said. “Your marks will be the symbol of our love.”
Lorient inhaled a puff of air. Her dry throat craved sweetness that not even the dessert could satiate. Only the sweetness of her mistress could alleviate it.
“Then I . . . shall wait until you recover.”
Iris smiled. She sliced a piece of her cheesecake and drew it towards her Lorient. She leaned closer to Lorient as her eyes shimmered, waiting to see that cute reaction. Lorient hesitated before closing her eyes and nibbling on the spoon.
The sweetness of the cheesecake, mixed with the nectar-like flavour of her mistress, permeated her mouth. She savoured it until every taste blended with her saliva and then swallowed it. Her eyes melted with ecstasy, but she managed to restrain her voice from gushing out.
What . . . did she just do?
“I’m sorry, Mistress.” Lorient covered her mouth and turned away. “Something has gotten to me; the thought of your feeding me drives me crazy.”
Iris pressed the spoon on her lips and lifted her head to stare at the ceiling. “So not even you could handle it.”
Lorient blinked. “What do you mean? Have I failed your test?”
Iris returned her gaze to Lorient. She put the spoon on the table and curled her hand into a fist. Her alluring yet untraceable scent returned to her body.
Though it could no longer influence her surroundings, it still influenced her, even more intensely than before.
“If my Tundra were here, she would’ve helplessly fallen for me.”
Lorient hmphed. “That girl, she shouldn’t have betrayed your trust. Please allow me to watch over her.”
“You’re too harsh. Her confusion was expected. Give her time, and she will arrive at her conclusion.”
“But she avoided you, Mistress. Her knowledge of your identity is a risk I can’t tolerate.”
Iris pressed her hand on her chest. “Do you trust me, Lorient?”
“That’s . . . no fair.”
“I trust her; I trust myself. I’ve carefully gifted her parts of our way, and she absorbed them without any resistance. Her belief doesn’t scorn us. Most importantly, she’s been smitten.”
Such confidence, Lorient couldn’t contest it. She too was the subject of her mistress’s charm and thus knew she could never betray her.
“No one could escape your grasp, Mistress. However, I still wish to keep an eye on her. Although she wouldn’t intentionally harm you, she might inadvertently expose herself.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Her friend will help her.” Iris took a cookie and bit it in half. She held out the remainder to her Lorient. “Niran is her name. You may look into her but do not get in touch with her. Her innocence has yet to mature.”
Lorient ate the cookie. She covered her mouth while chewing, her mind racing to process this new information. During the academy raid, she’d seen Mistress walking with Niran, but she had no idea that girl was Tundra’s friend.
Did Mistress foresee this hesitation?
“I shouldn’t have doubted you, Mistress.”
“You must challenge me when you feel the need to. I’m not infallible; I need you, Lorient. Don’t you agree?”
“How could that be?” Lorient held her breath. Despite the flame in her chest subsiding, it was still hard to refute her mistress. “I’m not that precious. I’m only your knight. Losing me wouldn’t affect you.”
Iris frowned. “Is that your belief, that I deceive you, that my affection is false?”
“That’s not—”
“Be mindful of the implication of your words, my Dear. I won’t forgive you the second time.”
Lorient lowered her head. “My apology, Mistress. I . . . was too shy to accept your confession.”
Iris merely relaxed her brows and leaned on her chair. She called for a waitress and ordered two glasses of punches. She gave one to Lorient and held out hers.
“Drink with me. That is your punishment.”
Lorient nodded. She toasted her glass with her mistress and drank it all in one take. The sour, fruity flavour dissolved the sweetness of the cookie and overwhelmed every aftertaste her mistress left in her mouth. She didn’t want to drink this, but it was a punishment.
She must accept it.
“Fortunately, it was non-alcoholic.” Iris took a light sip. “Who knew what you would do otherwise?”
“Nothing!” Lorient flushed. “You’re unwell. Taking advantage of your condition, I can’t do it.”
“Adorable. However, I’m not that innocent; I take advantage of those around me, whether knowingly or unknowingly.”
“Please don’t demean yourself. Your contribution to The Court—”
“Lorient, how is Alvalin doing?” Iris smirked. If she brought up Lorient’s angelic sister, Lorient wouldn’t be able to say anything. Lorient’s flustered expression delighted her.
And Lorient knew this. Her Mistress was indeed evil!
“She’s very proud of her first sale, Mistress. Your grace touched her heart.” Lorient smiled but then sighed. “Now she wants to help me. I don’t know how to stop her. Mistress, it’s your fault!”
“She’s worried about you, Lorient. Allow her to help when possible.”
“But . . . she’s too weak.” When Alvalin walked, she must do so with her cane. Lorient’s heart would bleed whenever her sister suppressed her pained expression while walking. “I don’t want her to suffer. It’s a lot easier for me to work; she shouldn’t have felt guilty.”
“Then, allow me to buy her embroideries.” Iris waved her right hand. A paper materialised within her grip. She lay it on the table and pinched it with her fingertips. “I’d like ten pieces of handkerchiefs, each with a unique design. The themes can either be the language of flowers or the symbols of the myths.”
Lorient couldn’t refuse. It was reasonable, too reasonable. In the end . . . she just didn’t want her sister to work. She wanted that girl to live without worry, to live a carefree life. It was the promise she gave to her parents.
“What . . . would be the payment, Mistress?”
“How about a miracle?”
Iris swiped her hand across the paper. Black inks manifested on it, etching details of the contract. At the bottom of the page was the section for the reward. She handed it to Lorient, who scanned through it before pausing at the end.
“This . . . this is too much!” Lorient rose from her seat. “Mistress, we can’t have this. Please give us money instead!”
“Do you not want her to be happy?”
“I would gladly give up my heart for her. However, this potion, it’s too precious. We commoners cannot afford it!”
Iris tilted her head. “I shall give it to you as the reward for your splendid performance at my reading party. There shall be no objection. Do you understand?”
The potion Iris would give to Lorient, although it couldn’t completely heal Alvalin, would partially restore her mobility. She would still need the cane to move about, but it wouldn’t hurt as much as before.
Even this mere potion was too expensive, too privileged for Lorient, in her identity as a humble florist, could afford.
Iris could give Lorient a better potion, but she couldn’t find a reason significant enough to gift it to a florist she just met. She must strengthen her relationship with Lorient’s disguise first.
Against her mistress’s firm tone, Lorient mustered her courage but failed to utter anything. She meekly assented, with blooms in her heart and joy in her twinkling eyes. If she and her mistress weren’t in a public space, she would’ve already knelt and bowed until her head touched the floor and her heart touched her mistress’s.
“If that is your wish, I shall accept it. But please don’t trouble yourself unnecessarily. Alvalin and I can wait. I won’t be able to forgive myself if our situation implicates The Court.”
“For you and your adorable angel, I can do this much. Nothing about helping my beloved is unnecessary. Don’t you think so too?”
Lorient caught herself nodding. “Your knight will repay back everything, even if she had to pay it with her heart.”
“I already have half of it; having the other half wouldn’t be bad.”
Lorient finally caved in and signed the contract. She kept the paper and ate her dessert quietly. Her contemplative face amused Iris, who decided not to disturb her.
When Lorient returned to the present, she was nibbling on the last cookie. Her mistress, with a slight smile, stared at her absentminded expression. Her cheeks pinkened.
“Would you like to have this piece?”
“I’d like to have you.”
“Please don’t tease me!” Lorient swallowed the last piece and got up. She called for the waitress.
She swiftly paid for the dessert and went to look for a carriage. Iris shook her head, got up from her seat, and walked out of the café. As she pushed open the door, she turned to the side and glanced at the café for one last time.
Her eyebrows creased. Although her senses detected nothing, she had a feeling that someone was watching her.
The customers chatted with their friends and family, their voices murmuring at great lengths about mundane topics. Iris couldn’t find the origin of her anxiety.
She turned around and exited the café. That subtle feeling no longer unnerved her.
Lorient came back to her and guided her to the waiting carriage. Once they got inside, Lorient closed the curtains and sat rigidly.
“Where shall we go next, Mistress?”
Iris leaned on the pillowed seat and closed her eyes. She exhaled a puff of warm air. Her hair flowed with her movement as if she were melting.
Despite her graceful exterior, her body was still sick, plagued by the ever-present discomfort. Her chest tightened with her every breath, her head ached with her every thought, but she revealed only the slightest of her hurt. After all, she should not worry her friends.
“Mistress . . . should we return to your home? No matter how long it takes, I’ll stay by your side.”
“No. This little fatigue is nothing. We shall head for a clinic first; I need the certificate for my sick leave.” Iris smiled.
Lorient knocked on the wooden slit connected to the carriage driver. She received her order and began moving. The rocking motion dampened the noise outside, soothing Iris’s disquiet mind.
It would be nice to fall asleep to this tone.