The White Roses of Evernight

A Dinner of Masks

The maid tightened the ties of my gown, fingers deft and cold.

“Be careful at table tonight, miss . Masks are not only worn at balls.”

She left her with that riddle and the faint scent of lavender smoke.

Outside, a carriage appeared through the fog—two silhouettes within one male, one female. The wheels hissed on wet gravel as the gate of Hawthorne Hall swung open, welcoming whatever new shadow would step inside.

---

Nathaniel

Rain had returned by dusk, soft and relentless, tapping against the glass panes like a patient hand demanding entry.

I stood in the foyer, my expression carved from ice, while the great doors groaned open to reveal the guests i had tried for weeks to delay.

Dr. Julian Wren stepped forward first — impeccably dressed, rain darkening the hem of his coat, eyes bright with the kind of intelligence that rarely served kindness.

Beside him walked Lilith — his daughter, his shadow, his pride.

She was beauty crafted to disarm — pale as porcelain, her lips the red of autumn leaves before they fell.

> “Lord Hawthorne,” Wren said smoothly, bowing. “I trust our journey was not unexpected?”

My gaze flicked briefly to Rowan Blackwood, who stood at his shoulder. The advisor’s silence was his only answer.

> “Nothing in this house surprises me anymore,” I said quietly. “Welcome back to Hawthorne Hall, Doctor.”

Wren smiled, the kind that never reached the eyes.

> “It’s been too long. I’ve missed the air here. So… alive.”

Behind him, Lilith’s eyes caught the light of the chandelier as she curtsied.

> “And I have missed your company, my lord.”

Her words were practiced, each one a carefully placed card in a game only she understood. I inclined my head — polite, distant, they irritated me so much this father and daughter duo even though I tried masking it up with a polite nod — but something in the air shifted.

The moment I turned, a soft voice spoke from the staircase.

> “Lord Nathaniel?”

i looked up.

There she is, the woman that has been tormenting my soul ever she came into. this manor she stood on the landing, her pale figure framed by candlelight, i noticed her hair was loose around her shoulders like dusk made flesh. Her presence dimmed everything else. Even the storm seemed to pause to look at her. I don't know why im reacting to my step niece like this,maybe because she's the prettiest I tried telling myself that my eyes smile calmly at her

Lilith followed my gaze and smiled too sweetly.

> “Ah,” she murmured to her father. “So this is the reason Hawthorne Hall stirs again.”

I heard her but pretended as if she didn't matter. My only focus right now was my step niece . Looking at her, I saw she took after her mother great looks .My body was reacting differently only. I knew the dark and naughty thoughts I had towards her.

---

Seraphina

The great dining room of Hawthorne Hall gleamed like a jewel trapped in cobwebs. Chandeliers dripped with candlewax that had run down like tears, and silver mirrors blurred in the amber light. The long table was dressed in crystal and bone-china, but beneath the finery, something strained, as if the air itself waited to breathe again.

I felt it the moment I entered—the hush that fell when Uncle Nathaniel lifted his head. His eyes, dark as a moonless tide, caught mine for a heartbeat too long. Then, with a civility that chilled and warmed me in equal measure, he rose.

“Miss Vale,” he said, voice velvet over steel, “welcome to our table.”

I curtsied, my pulse fluttering like trapped wings. Why does he look at me as though he remembers me from somewhere he’s never been?

Cedric spoke first, his laughter sharp. “You must forgive my brother’s manners; he prefers the company of ghosts to dinner guests.”

“Then we shall get along well,” I murmured before I could stop myself. “I seem to draw them to me.”

A ripple of amusement—or was it unease?—passed down the table. Alaric smiled at me with open warmth, the kind that promised safety. I know noticed Uncle Nathaniel’s fingers tightened around his wineglass until it trembled, and the candles nearest him flickered low.

As courses arrived, the conversation bloomed and soured in turns. Dr. Julian Wren’s smooth voice threaded through it all, his every word polished like marble. Beside him sat his daughter, Lilith, porcelain-pale and watchful, her gloved hands resting perfectly still.

I caught my uncle Nathaniel glancing at the Wrens more than once—wariness in his gaze or disdain. When I turned toward Dr. Wren, he smiled benignly, yet the crystal atop his cane pulsed faintly with light. A hum thrummed at the base of her skull, soft but insistent, like a chord struck on an unseen harp.

The air is wrong again…

i lifted my glass; the surface of the wine rippled, though my hand was steady. Across the table, Uncle Nathaniel’s gaze met mine once more, and the hum died instantly—as if he had willed the sound away.

“Are you quite well, Miss Vale?” he asked, voice low.

“Yes,” I whispered, though my breath fogged in the air between them, faint and silver.

Dinner felt more like a stage performance than a meal.

The long table shimmered with silver and crystal, candle flames mirrored in a thousand tiny reflections. Every face held a different expression — curiosity, suspicion, hunger — all veiled by manners.

Dr. Wren’s gaze often drifted to the old paintings lining the walls, as though searching for something hidden in them.

Lilith, meanwhile, barely touched her food. Her attention lingered on me, a faint smile always curling at her lips — the kind that promised both invitation and war.

Miss Vale,” Lilith said sweetly. “How lovely to finally meet you. Father spoke of your family — distant relatives, weren’t you?”

I nodded cautiously. “So I’ve been told.”

> “And yet you seem quite at home here already. It is a rare gift to settle among strangers so easily.”

i saw Uncle Nathaniel’s hand stilled around his glass. “Miss Vale is a guest,” he said softly. “And no one in this house is a stranger.Wren’s laughter broke the tension. “Beautifully said, my lord. But tell me — do you still keep the library of shadows? I remember glimpsing it years ago. Ancient texts, dangerous charms…”

Locked,” uncle Nathaniel replied. “As they should be.

Of course,” Wren said. “Though one might argue that knowledge, even cursed, begs to be known.”Something flickered in Uncle Nathaniel’s eyes — the kind of warning that didn’t need words

Across the table, Alaric leaned closer to me “If the air grows any heavier, we’ll have a storm indoors,” he whispered, smiling softly. “Would you care for a walk later, Miss Vale? The gardens are lovelier by moonlight — and less haunted by old scholars i almost smiled. But when my gaze found Nathaniel’s, my pulse faltered.

He was watching me — not possessively, but like a man trying to remember how to breathe.

His eyes darkened slightly, his jaw tightened — and for a moment, I saw something fracture behind that calm exterior.Why does he look at me as though I’m both salvation and ruin?