"Now presenting! Duchess Kaede Fujimori of Silverwind!"
The room stirred.
Ayame’s fists curled tightly under the table.
Kaede entered the banquet hall with serene grace, not emitting any haughtiness one might expect from a woman who had just recently betrayed her sister to bee the duchess in her stead.
In fact, Kaede was so serene that she glided forward as if she were a painted doll e to life. Her silk kimono was elegant, pristine, perfectly folded in all the right places. Every step she took was measured and refined. .
She shared the same fine bone structure as Ayame, the same jet-black hair, and the same blue eyes, though hers seemed to be veiled in a placid mask.
That’s where the similarities ended.
None in the harem doubted that if Ayame were to stand next to this woman, she’d be mistaken for being the younger sister.
Kaede was taller and curvier. Her long hair was coiled into an intricate style pinned by golden hairpieces, and her face was touched with a great deal of makeup, creating soft red lips, pale powder skin, and artfully drawn brows that never quite moved. Not even when she made eye contact with the king’s table.
Where Ayame had the trim, honed physique of a lifelong warrior, Kaede carried herself like a ceremonial weapon. She was gorgeous and ornamental. And where Ayame’s emotions often lived just below the surface and could explode at any time, Kaede seemed to have mastered the art of showing nothing at all. At least, such was their first impression of the woman who looked a lot more similar to a Japanese princess doll than an actual living, breathing human.
(Picture)
Quinlan didn’t need to glance at Ayame to feel the storm brewing in her chest. It was in her posture. Her silence. The unnatural stillness of her breath.
Ayame finally whispered with a great deal of emotion evident in her fragile voice.
Iris asked while openly examining the newer.
Vex replied with confidence.
The Hexwitch leaned back in her seat before she continued speaking.
Ayame’s lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
Instead, she stared. And stared. And stared some more.
She couldn’t even blink.
she finally admitted.
No one interrupted.
Ayame added after a breath.
Her thoughts tangled up in her throat, refusing to untangle.
Ayame stopped for a moment, struggling to align this poised duchess with the girl she used to share secrets and sunrises with. ℞𝐀ƝО𝖇ЕⱾ
A thick silence followed her words.
Aurora voiced her own thoughts.
Lucille was quick to agree.
Kitsara spoke up, earning herself a few raised eyebrows due to how uncharacteristically poised she was.
However, what some in the harem didn’t realize just yet was that she might be the Slutty Foxy with a very active libido, but she was still a fifty-year-old princess who knew her way around such events—even if the dogkin were a lot more straightforward people.
Jasmine asked.
Lucille agreed.
Blossom intervened in the conversation with an incredibly sincere tone, making it clear she was truly concerned for her friend. The dogkin woman placed her hand on the samurai’s trembling hand.
Ayame paused at the sudden warmth wrapping around her hand. Blossom’s fingers were softer than her calloused palm, but steady. Secure.
She turned her head and found the dogkin woman watching her with wide, worried eyes that were earnest, with no hint of performance. Just concern and care for a person she deeply adored.
The gesture made Ayame’s throat tighten, but this time, the emotion behind it wasn’t pain.
She smiled. A full, heartfelt smile that reached her eyes, pushing away some of the storm that had gathered in them earlier.
"No, you can’t eat just yet..." she giggled out loud so as not to cause concern in the minds of the people watching them. Blossom randomly touching her hand, her looking at the dogkin in response, and then smiling brightly, all the while both remained mute, might cause some questions to be asked. She gave an answer to the unsaid question so that it would remain that way.
But under the surface, she was saying something else entirely.
User Comments
0 comments from readers