The Tea Gathering with the Prince

The sound of students speaking in the academy’s courtyard drifts through the air.

“Haven’t you heard? The Lady Spica of Emmental was secretly tormenting Lady Stella, who has just returned!”

“Why, really? I mean, Lady Spica is renowned as the paragon of grace and virtue.”

“It’s true, I assure you. Lady Stella’s fear was not feigned at all… I mean… just look at her…”

“Of course she couldn’t compare. That’s why she’s been cast out of her home, isn’t she?”

Giggles ripple through the group.

Within a week of Stella’s arrival, Spica’s reputation had risen sharply, like a eel climbing a pole.

To the stagnant nobility, the idea of a saintly maiden concealing a cruel and vicious heart was too enticing to resist.

“There’s no need to be troubled… They’re just idle people, ignorant of Lady Spica, speaking out of amusement.”

“That is right—anyone who has so much as touched a thread of Lady Spica’s presence would understand, surely.”

It was a small comfort, hearing her friend say it.

Living with the scorn of strangers, even now, remains something I cannot grow accustomed to…

Though I have endured envy and ill will before, never have I faced such blatant hatred for so long.

And to be avoided, even without overt disdain, is quietly unbearable…

It was during such a time that I received word of the tea gathering, long planned with the prince.

The location, as Spica had suggested, was within the academy’s garden. Honestly, I had no wish for Arthur to come here, but having proposed it myself, I could not refuse.

With reluctance, I agreed—and the tea gathering arrived all too soon…

The day of the gathering was perfect: not too hot, with sunlight soft as spring, and a cool breeze passing through now and then.

The blossoms Spica wrote of would retreat for a time, giving way to the flowers of early summer, which would delight the eye. Perhaps the first stop would be an arch made of summer roses.

In the central courtyard, a white table stood beneath a large umbrella, not two chairs as expected, but three. A cake stand held light refreshments and confections prepared for three.

Beside it stood two large blooms, the centerpiece of the day’s celebration.

One bore hair of pale gold, short as a noble’s shoulder, with a large ribbon swaying above. Her eyes, slightly downturned, were the soft violet of an orchid—sweet, evoking a protective tenderness. Her dress, of pale peach muslin, was lavishly adorned with lace, giving her the air of a princess plucked straight from a storybook and brought into reality.

The other woman wore her long, elegant hazel hair neatly gathered, secured with delicate, modest accessories. Her slender, almond-shaped eyes, a deep hazel, conveyed intelligence, and together with her refined dress silhouette, gave her an air of polished grace, sharply contrasting with the woman beside her.

A murmur of voices reached the garden earlier than expected. Spica recognized the familiar tones immediately—the headmaster and the prince, her intended suitor—and bowed with deliberate courtesy to greet them.

Stella paused for a breath before hastily assuming the bowing posture, her haste rendering the movement slightly uneven, yet there was no time to remark upon it.

“Ah, you have arrived ahead of schedule. Forgive the delay. The headmaster has enjoyed his time, but now I shall make better use of these blossoms. Please return to your stacks of paperwork.”

With those words, Arthur dismissed the headmaster.

"Ah, ah, to think the day would come when I’d hear such irony from a prince… Age, I must confess, is something I’d rather avoid. Well then, an old man’s presence among young men’s talk is surely gauche. I shall take my leave, I assure you."

The headmaster replied in kind, his jest met with a jest, and withdrew from the scene.

Once I confirmed the sound of his footsteps had faded, I stole a glance at my elder sister.

She did not appear to be preparing a formal greeting, so I paused, then offered mine.

"Your Highness, Arthur, the Empire’s small sun. I greet you. Thank you for gracing us with your presence today…"

"No need for such stiff formalities," he said, interrupting. "Better yet, look up, both of you."

Cut short and prompted, my sister and I raised our faces.

"Your Highness! It's been since the last debutante ball! I was so thoroughly enjoying myself then that I've been looking forward to meeting you today!"

"Your Highness! Even with your indulgence, such irreverence is unacceptable!"

My sister's flippant remark was met with haste, yet it was Your Highness who silenced her.

"Never mind. I've heard of your upbringing, Stella. You'll grow accustomed to it in time. After all, you're my sister."

"If Your Highness says so... I humbly accept your grace."

My sister wore a smile that seemed to carry a quiet triumph.

Though I found it peculiar that Arthur would shield my sister, I felt a strange relief knowing I was spared reprimand for being her kin.

After that, we took our seats, and the tea gathering began.

The cup held a crisp, refreshing scent—faintly familiar, like a herb once whispered in memory.

"Yet it has truly been a long time since last we gathered like this—since Spica and Stella’s debut, and Cain’s own ceremony."

"I regret having taken my leave so abruptly that day, without even offering proper greetings. I offer my sincerest apologies. I wished, at the very least, to share a single dance with you…"

"There was nothing you could have done, and I understand. No apology is necessary. I look forward to dancing with you another time. Besides, on that day, Stella was kind enough to dance with me in your stead."

"Yes, I was truly pleased to dance with Arthur-sama as my debutante."

Her voice rises with lightness, her words tumbling forth like a spring breeze.

"Ah, yes—on that day was your debut, was it not? I was astonished to see you in Spica’s gown. Your attire that day was lovely, but today’s ensemble is equally exquisite, Stella."

In the Empire, it is customary for gentlemen to praise a lady’s beauty. I force myself to suppress the stiffness in my face—this too is part of it.

“Thank you! I had it made especially today, hearing I would meet His Grace Arthur! To be called lovely makes me blush.”

The gesture of placing a hand to her cheek and lowering her gaze is delicate, yet my chest stirs.

“Spica, you are beautiful today as always. This dress… I feel I’ve seen it before. When was it, I wonder?”

“Ah… this dress is one I’ve adapted from a previous garden party gown… Did I offend you with it?”

Cold sweat trickles down my spine. I have not had a new dress made in some time, and of the many I once owned, almost all remain in my elder sister’s wardrobe—what little I still have, I barely manage to survive on.

Ah… that was the attire from the garden party, was it? It’s fascinating how a simple adjustment changes the impression. More than anything, it suits you perfectly. For the next evening gathering, I shall take it as inspiration and gift you a gown.

Indeed, that is most gratifying! I look forward to it with great anticipation.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. And I am glad that Arthur-sama has remembered his promise.

It's unfair of you both to speak of times I don't know! Tell me something I can understand too!

My elder sister pouts, her cheeks puffed out in a show of childish vexation.

Arthur nodded, shifting the conversation.

I haven’t visited the academy in ages, but I came at Spica’s invitation—there’s nostalgia, yes, but I can’t help feeling the atmosphere has changed greatly. Especially the fashions among the female students, I’m truly surprised. Could this be Stella’s influence?

It must refer to the recent trend—shortening skirts like the elder sister, or using ribbons to make long hair appear shorter. It has become immensely popular, especially among younger students, who now emulate the so-called 'Miracle Lady' style. Whenever I pass by a student wearing a skirt of that length, I find myself at a loss for where to look. The sight of unfamiliar girls with short hair reminds me of nuns, and I cannot help but startle.

“That’s right! I never thought nobles would dare cut their hair short, but it’s truly remarkable! I feel as though I’ve finally been acknowledged too—how wonderful!”

“A new air stirs in the school. I’ve also heard something intriguing.”

“What kind of story is that? Spica would like to know, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, I’m quite curious about it.”

“Apparently, there’s a perfect villainess among us now. Do you two know anything about her?”

My heart beats like a hurried bell. I understood instinctively that it must be about me… I did not wish this person to know of the rumors circulating about me.

My sister spoke first, her voice edged with discomfort despite the tea in her mouth.

“Really… such a woman exists? To think of an evil woman makes me afraid… Spica, do you know of her?”

“I… do not know of her.”

I forced my voice to remain steady, though my lips trembled. My silence was interpreted as thoughtfulness, a moment of uncertainty—then the conversation moved on, leaving me behind.

“Then if both of you are unaware… perhaps the rumors mean nothing. Still, if such a perfect villainess truly exists, I would like to meet her.”

“What would you do upon meeting her, Arthur-sama?”

“Nothing at all. I am simply curious to see what kind of woman she is.”

We continued exchanging various topics, though my mind drifted halfway elsewhere…

It should have been a pleasant tea gathering between Your Highness and myself…

Distractedly picking at a confection, a hand reached out from Arthur’s side and rested upon my forehead.

“Arthur-sama? What is it?”

I tried to pull back, but my forehead and hand were both held fast, leaving me unable to move. Then he asked,

“Something feels different about you today. I thought you might be feverish. Are you unwell anywhere? Have you been pushing yourself too hard?”

Ah, he sees me so clearly, I thought—my heart, once prickling with irritation, now felt cooled by a stream of clear water.

“No, I believe I’ve simply been caught in the heat of summer. To have caused such a lapse while taking time from your duties—I apologize.”

Shame burned in my cheeks, and I bowed my head in apology.

There is no need to concern yourself… but you do look quite weary. I am about to return as well, so you should rest properly from now on.

My heart softened at the gentle words, tightened by their warmth…

I am deeply grateful for such kind words. I shall take your kindness to heart, as you have offered.

Arthur smiled in return at my smile.

"Thank you, Miss Stella, for such a pleasant time today. I would be honored to speak with you again, should time allow."

"I would be most grateful. I look forward to meeting you again, Arthur."

My elder sister replied with a carefree smile.

After exchanging a handshake, Arthur departed toward the central courtyard.

"Spica, you're lucky… having such a wonderful fiancé!"

My elder sister spoke unexpectedly.

"You are still merely a suitor, sister. And I’ve heard you have suitors of your own. Surely, a worthy match will be found for you soon."

With that, my elder sister puffs out her cheeks.

"Not a match as splendid as a prince… don’t you think Arthur-sama would suit a miracle maiden far better than a perfect villainess?"

Her defiant, teasing smile leans in toward me. I instinctively avert my gaze. "What are you speaking of…? And I am not the one to decide Your Highness’s betrothal," I reply, the words all I can manage with my mind so unsettled.

Ah, yes, she says, as if unconcerned, and departs toward the central courtyard.

Left alone, I exhale deeply once, then pour the now-cold tea down my throat…

Even the tea leaves I once found calming now offer me nothing but bitterness…