The Villain's Life Is Now Mine

Porcelain Smiles

The invitation came wrapped in cream parchment, sealed with a pink wax heart and looped in delicate gold lettering. "Lady Raven Thorne is cordially invited to an afternoon tea hosted by Lady Esme Rowe and company."

Winston raised an eyebrow when he handed it over. Raven stared at the card a moment too long. "Friends?" Winston asked politely.

"Something like that," Raven muttered. He said nothing, but she felt his gaze linger.

|The Garden of Sweet Thorns|

The garden was painfully perfect. Silken white cloths draped round wrought-iron tables. Blue and pink flowers bloomed like rehearsed smiles. The pastries were works of art-swan-shaped cakes, crystalized violets, sugared strawberries glistening like they'd been kisses by fairies.

It all smelled like syrup and venom. "Raaaven!" cooed Lady Esme with a saccharine lilt, rising from her seat with a gleam in her pale eyes. Beside her sat the other two wolves in silk, "Lyra and Livia. Sharp smiles. Fake laughter. Painted claws.

Raven offered a lazy nod. "Esme. Lyra. Livia,"

"You look so well," Lyra said, patting the bench beside her, "Death becomes you." Raven sat across instead.

"I was told you'd recovered," said Livia, examining her nails. "Yet here you are. Not even a cane to limp around with. How... inspiring."

"Miraculous," Esme added, sipping tea like it was spiked with secrets. "We simply had to see for ourselves."

Raven offered a polite smile, unreadable smile. "Your concern warms me."

"Hm, we brought someone new to meet you," Esme said suddenly, and gestured the girl seated at the edge of the table. She was pretty. Soft blonde curls, a shy bend in her shoulders, and a downcast eyes that didn't quite meet anyone's. Her dress was plainer than the others, her teacup nearly untouched. "This is Miss Elira," Esme said. "She's visiting from the countryside. A bit... fragile."

The other's snickered behind their cups.

Raven glanced at the girl. Elira looked like a lamb among wolves, fidgeting under the weight of silent judgment. She dropped her spoon. Lyra giggled like it was the funniest thing she'd seen in years. "Elira," Livia purred, "Raven used to teach us all kind of things. Didn't you Raven? How to hold our heads high. How to speak with power. How to discipline the help when they spill hot tea on your dress."

"I remember," Esme chimed in sweetly.