Lament for My First Life

A Dinner of Hidden Intentions

The dining hall of the Winter Estate glowed warmly under the amber light of chandeliers. The scent of roasted herbs, fresh bread, and honeyed tea filled the air as Xylenne sat at the long dining table, her small figure dwarfed by the towering high-backed chair.

Before her lay an array of luxurious dishes, golden-roasted duck, steamed vegetables, and fruit tarts arranged on fine porcelain plates rimmed with gold. Across from her, Lord Winter, her grandfather, ate with the slow, measured grace of a man accustomed to control, of both his meals and his household.

Xylenne twirled her fork idly, her mind elsewhere. "Grandfather?" she said softly, setting her fork down.

Lord Winter glanced up, his gray eyes calm and curious. "What is it, little dove?"

She hesitated for a moment, her fingers tightening around her napkin. "Where is Zephyros? And why haven't I seen him much lately? It's been... a few days now."

Her grandfather's expression didn't change, but his eyes flickered briefly, a sign of restrained thought. "Zephyros is busy these days," he said, slicing neatly through his meal. "He doesn't live here, remember? He only visits the estate from time to time." Xylenne frowned slightly, her small voice tinged with disappointment. "But I want to see him..."

Lord Winter's knife paused for a moment before he replied. "Want and need are two different things, sweetie," he said evenly, taking another bite. "Now tell me, have you made any friends at school yet?" Xylenne blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. She looked down at her plate. "Well... I met this boy named Eryndor. He's cool..." Her words trailed off as her mind replayed the memory from earlier that day, Sylvareaen's smug smirk, the sting in her palms when she hit the floor, and the awkward apology afterward.

Lord Winter noticed her silence. "What's wrong, little dove?" he asked gently, setting his utensils down. Xylenne fiddled with her fork. "Well... I haven't really made friends with anybody else yet," she admitted quietly. "But there's this boy from the Orthis family..." Her grandfather froze. The soft clink of silverware stopped abruptly. "...Is something wrong, Grandfather?" Xylenne asked carefully, tilting her head.

"No," Lord Winter said quickly, his voice steady again though a subtle tension lingered in his tone. "No, go on. Did something happen with this boy?"

Xylenne hesitated. "Well, his name is Sylvareaen. He's... kind of weird." Her grandfather's eyes narrowed just slightly, a flash of recognition. "Weird?" "Yeah," Xylenne said, playing with her food. "He keeps staring at me all the time, and today he tripped me in the hallway. But then he apologized, so I guess we're okay now... he's still strange though." Lord Winter's expression darkened subtly as he leaned back in his chair. "He apologized to you?"

"Yeah," she said, surprised by his tone. "The Orthis family..." he muttered under his breath, almost to himself, "they've never been ones to apologize. They've raised their son to be a brute, spoiled and ill-tempered. For him to say sorry... unusual." He sipped his wine quietly, hiding the displeasure that creased his brow. The Orthis family... the last thing I want is my granddaughter tangled with them. Not after what they did years ago, he thought grimly.

Clearing his throat, he straightened again. "In any case, little dove," he said in a gentler tone, "tomorrow, we are hosting a family event here at the estate." Xylenne blinked. "An event?"

"Yes," Lord Winter said, folding his hands neatly. "Distant relatives and family friends will be attending. I'd like them to meet you — and for you to treat them kindly. Make a good impression, yes?" Xylenne tilted her head in confusion. "An event... out of nowhere?"

Then, realization dawned on her.

No, she thought silently, lowering her gaze. This isn't just a family gathering. He's looking for someone to adopt me. These 'family friends' are potential candidates. Her small heart tightened, but she didn't let it show. Instead, she forced a bright smile, her voice cheerful. "I can't wait!" Her grandfather's expression softened, relief flickering in his eyes. "That's my good girl." Xylenne smiled wider and picked her fork back up, returning to her meal.

But as she chewed, her thoughts drifted back to the quiet of her mind, sharp, strategic, adult thoughts that didn't belong to a seven-year-old girl.

If he's truly searching for candidates... then I have to play this carefully. One good impression can rewrite my fate entirely. Her fork pressed lightly against her plate, the reflection of her blue eyes glinting back at her from the polished silver. She smiled again, small and composed, the kind of smile she'd learned to wear when she needed to hide her plans.