SONG RECOMMENDATIONS: TAG YOU'RE IT by Melanie Martinez.
Lucinda sat elegantly before the vanity mirror, sipping her morning tea with poise, while Nora, her maid, brushed her hair with practiced care. Sunlight streamed in, casting a warm glow that highlighted her features. Opposite her, Silas leaned against the table, his head slightly cocked to the side, eyes locked on Lucinda. A grin curled at his lips, sharp and sensuous.
Theodore, nestled on Lucinda's lap, stretched out and reached for a bright red lipstick beside Silas, his tiny fingers grasping at the air. Silas, nibbling on a sweet treat, took the lipstick and leaned down to meet Theodore . He bobbed his finger playfully against Theodore's nose, making the boy's eyes sparkle with glee.
"Papa," Theodore called with a wide smile, clutching a curl of Silas's hair as silas gently applied the lipstick to his already cherry-red lips. Theodore pouted dramatically before grinning up at his mother, proud of his bold new look. Lucinda shook her head with gentle amusement, her eyes soft despite the mischief. Behind her, Nora stifled a laugh.
Silas passed Theodore another sweet treat and dusted a flick of powder across Theodore's squirming nose, sending the boy into a sneeze that burst a cloud of powder into the air. Silas's face was dusted with the fine mist as Lucinda turned her teacup away, suppressing a chuckle.
A knock at the door interrupted the peaceful morning. A guard stepped inside, his expression serious. "My Lord, a visitor on his way to the mansion, demanding the mistress's and young master's presence. She claims to be the young master's governess."
Silas's smile stiffened, the edge of irritation settling over his features. He made to stand, his mood darkening, but a subtle shift caught his attention. Lucinda had turned her gaze calmly toward the guard. "Inform our guest when she arrives I shall be with her shortly," she said smoothly, then looked back at Silas, her eyes sharp. "Do you have a room fit to impress but intimidate?"
Silas nodded, catching on, a knowing smile creeping back. Lucinda turned again, her voice carrying authority like a queen issuing orders. "Ensure she does not step out of line with the maids." The guard bowed and left swiftly.
"Foe?" Silas asked, curiosity piqued.
"Pawn," Lucinda replied, a wicked gleam in her eyes.
While the tension in the room shifted, none of them noticed the change in Theodore. His tiny body had tensed, and the treat in his hand was frozen halfway to his mouth. His pupils dilated, and his lips quivered as something unspoken swirled within him.
Silas knelt dramatically, his hand pressed to his forehead in a mock show of despair. "Why won't you let me handle it? I've sworn you're under my care." He peeked at Lucinda, gauging her reaction, but found her expression unamused. Undeterred, he pouted and inched closer, resting his chin on her lap. Lucinda stiffened at the intimate contact but maintained her composure.
"You're not using me as we agreed," Silas teased, his lips curling suggestively, eyes glittering with mischief.
Lucinda raised her teacup to his face, the warning in her gesture clear. "If you really want to help, get me a dress to meet our guest."
Silas sulked, burrowing further into her lap, then pressed a warm hand against the side of her bandaged wound, his touch gentle yet possessive. "You need to be careful. I don't want anything to strain your injuries," he murmured softly, his voice thick with concern. "What dress do you desire?"
For a fleeting moment, Lucinda's mind wandered, imagining the absurd—wearing Silas like a dress, wrapping herself in him. The thought caught her off guard, and she choked on air. The doting look in his eyes only deepened seeing her flustered state.
"I won't be wearing a corset," she managed to say.
Silas glanced over her shoulder to Nora, who was blushing at the affectionate display between them. Startled by the sudden attention, Nora hurried off and returned moments later, pushing a rack of exquisite dresses toward them. Silas, with a theatrical bow, gestured for Nora to display the designs.
Lucinda fought to contain her excitement as each dress was revealed. Her eyes gleamed despite her attempt to appear composed. Silas's smug voice broke the moment. "I was always five steps ahead, Lucinda. If these aren't to your liking, we'll have them redone."
Lucinda waved off his suggestion, her eyes still drinking in the beautiful creations before her. "No, no. They're perfect. But these aren't from Gerdalion empire's fashion… Where are they from?"
"From my kingdom, of course." Silas's chest swelled with pride as he thumbed through the garments.
She had suspected as much. The styles were distinct from Gerdalion's, reflecting Silas's homeland in every detail. Her fingers itched to alter them, her passion bubbling just beneath the surface, but she suppressed the urge.
Silas's eyes landed on one dress in particular, and his breath caught. This was it—the one for her. He presented it to Lucinda, and her reaction mirrored his.
Together, they breathed, "This is the one."
Meanwhile, Theodore had slipped from the room, his face set in grim determination as he marched down the hallway, ready to confront an enemy he had long avoided.
---
Lucinda stood before the mirror, smoothing her hands down the fabric of the dress. It felt like it was made for her, enhancing her beauty in ways no other garment had before. Yet something was missing. Her lips pressed together as her gaze shifted to Silas behind her, who stood, watching her quietly with appreciation.
Before she could speak, he stepped forward, wordlessly understanding her need. He reached for the edge of the dress and, with a swift motion, ripped the fabric. The tearing sound cut through the room, sharp but deliberate. Lucinda didn't flinch—she didn't need to. Every time he did something like this, every time he took something she hadn't even voiced, she felt the air leave her chest.
In those moments, they just fit.
---
Outside, horses neighed as the carriage came to a halt before the imposing mansion, its grandeur looming over the visitor. A guard opened the carriage door, and a delicate, gloved hand appeared first, followed by the pristine step of a shoe onto the ground. The woman kept her head bowed as she exited, taking in the sight of the sprawling estate before her. The expanse of wealth was overwhelming, but didn't deter the focused gleam in her narrowed eyes. Only heightened it.
She snapped her fan shut with a crisp motion, straightened her jacket over her chest, and began her calculated ascent toward the entrance.
As the woman strode down the hallway, escorted by guards, the feeling of grandeur briefly swelled inside her. She felt like royalty, striding through corridors where maids curtsied and servants bowed. But there was something else—a disquiet in the air. Their gazes weren't ones of respect or admiration. No, it was something darker. The servants' eyes tracked her like predators watching their prey. The governess could feel it, a creeping sensation along her spine, but she shrugged it off, pushing down the unease.
Unbeknownst to her, Silas had informed the household of her arrival, and they had all received the same instruction: "Welcome her, lead her, and watch her".
When the grand double doors were pulled open, a rush of cold air swept out into the hallway. The woman paused briefly, sensing the shift in atmosphere, but with a cruel smile hidden behind her fan, she stepped inside. This was a power play, she knew it well—the so-called witch making her move.
Inside, Lucinda was seated on a wide, plush cushion by the floor-to-ceiling windows, light streaming shaded by an imposing twisted dead tree, leaving the room gloomy and surrounded by the cawing of ravens. Lucinda looked like every moment of a powerful witch on her throne. Her posture was one of absolute control, a serene figure amidst the opulence of the room. She didn't rise to greet the governess. It was a pointed snub, the first mark of disrespect.
"I apologize for not greeting you at the entrance," Lucinda said coolly, her voice carrying an undercurrent of disinterest. "I was attending to more important matters."
The governess took her seat across from Lucinda, finally able to study the woman more fully. Her eyes widened ever so slightly at the sight before her. This sight could give any of the socialites women a heart attack.
Lucinda looked ravished. Her clothes were torn at some places as if by an animal impatient to get to the flesh, the temptation before it. It was rumpled, she sat, her legs crossed but riding up to her thighs, beyond indecent exposure. A sleeve had slipped further down her exposed shoulder and astonishingly a bruise marred her unblemished skin. A bloody hickey, the woman simmed.
Lucinda black wave of hair was deliciously tousled and she had a smudge of red lipstick at the side of swollen parted lips wrapped around a bloody red cheery. The shameless lady before her looked like the muse painting of an erotic image that dwelled in the deepest lust filled place of an artist's heart.
The governess's lips tightened in disgust as Lucinda's thumb caught the juice, sliding it slowly across her lips before sucking it away. Even the hardened governess flushed slightly at the shameless display.
Slowly she skimmed her hand down her petite swan neck and down the pearls resting around her neck, the last wrapped pearl line dipped below her chest stopping somewhere at her navel. The cream champagne of her wrapped dress left little to the imagination but didn't throw off the sophistication of the wearer. The dress was made for her. All glistening silk on her skin. The woman before her wasn't just beautiful—she was sin incarnate.
The governess's fan twitched slightly in her hand as she masked her disdain.
Lucinda had a reputation she had nonchalantly upheld. Lady Lucinda once again strikes. Too busy to greet her guest while in the embrace of her newest man toy. Lucinda smirked as she imagined the gossip mill. Sure enough they would eat it up while she fulfilled her bargain to Silas on her own part. That is when she was ready to reveal herself back into society.
"You never fail to amuse me, Lucinda," the governess sneered, eyes narrowing. "Frolicking in the midst of your latest conquests, no doubt."
Lucinda's gaze slid lazily over her, a smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. "Out of the kindness of my heart," she said, her voice dripping with mockery, "I revel on behalf of all the poor, repressed socialite women."
Her tone was a slap, one that landed with perfect precision. Lucinda leaned back, resting her fingers lightly on her chest in a melodramatic show of innocence. Her raised brow and sigh declared: Do you blame me for their loss?
The governess's face remained impassive, but her knuckles whitened ever so slightly around the fan she clutched, her poise barely holding under the weight of the insult.