Blaze slipped into the kitchen, pretending to be helpful. As the staff bustled around her, she moved with quiet purpose, slipping a small vial from the folds of her apron.
She poured the sleeping potion carefully into the pitchers of juice and drinks that had already been sorted and set aside to be served.
Then, just in case someone opted for soda or wine but used another cup, she sprayed a fine mist of the potion into the neatly arranged glassware.
The maids in charge of serving the drinks walked off, ready to begin her duties. Blaze made her way to another maid who was busy icing the cake.
"I was told to take over the icing," Blaze said casually.
The maid hesitated, then nodded, stepping away. Blaze's eyes glittered as she picked up the piping bag, twisting it with practiced ease.
She worked quickly, mixing an excessive amount of salt and lime into the icing. When the other maid returned briefly, Blaze was already putting the final touches on the now-ruined cake. Satisfied, she wiped her hands and stepped back into the line of maids.
---
Selene stepped outside, the soft slap of her flip-flops against the polished floor the only sound breaking the hush. The maids lining the hallway froze, their whispered conversations dying as their eyes widened in shock.
Their murmurs picked up again, hushed but frantic. What was she wearing?
Her hair was adorned with delicate accessories, expertly styled to perfection—yet the rest of her appearance shattered the illusion. Her clothes were out of place, completely unfitting for the occasion. She did not look the part.
She felt their stares burning into her, but she refused to acknowledge them. Lifting her chin, she walked down the stairs toward the garden.
At the entrance, she hesitated. The scent of fresh flowers mingled with the rich aroma of food.
Taking a slow, measured breath, she stepped forward.
The moment she entered, her gaze locked onto Kieran's. He was already watching her, his piercing stare unreadable. For a moment, the world around them dimmed, as if they were the only two people in the garden.
Then, she smirked.
A ripple of gasps spread through the maids.
Her step-parents stiffened, their mouths slightly open in shock before quickly masking their expressions. But their eyes betrayed them—disapproval, frustration, and something else. Panic.
Selene ignored them and walked straight to her seat, lowering herself gracefully.
George, her stepfather, forced a chuckle, but there was a sharp edge to his voice. "I apologize for how she is dressed," he said, glancing at Kieran as if pleading for understanding. Then, he turned to Selene with a warning glare. "Perhaps I haven't disciplined her properly."
Kieran remained silent, his gaze still locked onto Selene. There was something calculating in his eyes, something unreadable.
Flora, her stepmother, let out a nervous laugh. "Our Selene is a good girl," she said quickly. "Maybe the dress wasn't ready, and she didn't want to keep you waiting too long."
The words sounded like a desperate excuse.
From across the table, Charles extended his hand toward her. "My name is Charles," he greeted, a warm smile on his face.
Selene glanced at his hand. Slowly, deliberately, she shoved it away without a word. Then, with no hesitation, she picked up a flower from the tabke and started plucking the petals, her movements calm and unbothered.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Kieran raised a brow, intrigued. Charles swallowed hard and leaned back in his chair, clearly rattled.
George wiped the sweat from his brow. "W-Well, she's not always like this—"
Kieran lifted a hand, signaling him to be silent. The weight of his authority crushed any further excuses.
His eyes flickered back to Selene, unwavering.
She wants to stop me from taking her, Kieran mused, watching her with quiet amusement. But that's not going to happen.
---
Food was passed around, and drinks were poured. Everyone began eating.
Kieran didn't touch the food. Instead, he grabbed a bottle of wine and poured it into a cup. As the rim neared his lips, he paused. His nostrils flared subtly. He set the cup down without taking a sip.
Some cake slices were served on the table. Charles grabbed a plate without hesitation, scooped up a spoonful, and tossed it into his mouth.
He nearly gagged, his face contorting in disgust.
"Yikes—what is this?!" he sputtered, coughing. "It's so bitter… so salty!"
He reached for a cup of water from the tray to wash it down, but Kieran's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.
"Don't," Kieran said firmly.
"C'mon, let me drink!" Charles argued, trying to pull free.
Kieran's glare silenced him. After a moment of tension, Charles slowly lowered the cup and pushed it away.
Across the table, Selene's eyes flicked to Kieran, suspicious.
Selene, who had been watching him closely, cursed under her breath. All that effort, wasted!!!
Kieran knew. He knew there was sleeping potion in the water.
From a distance, Blaze watched everything unfold from the line of maids. Her jaw tightened as frustration bubbled within her. She let out a low grunt. What is wrong with that man!!!
She narrowed her eyes, then shifted her gaze toward the far end of the estate.
There, behind a set of white tents and decorative arches, was the private preparation area where the priest was meant to be getting ready—a small, quiet lounge tucked behind the garden, not far from the estate's storage quarters.
Blaze moved stealthily, weaving through the outer paths until she was within sight of the priest. Standing at a distance, she slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a compact gun—sleek and metallic, unlike any ordinary weapon.
It wasn't just any gun. It was specially made to shoot thin, near-invisible pins with deadly precision. Some pins were laced with poison. Others, like the one she loaded now, were packed with sleeping potion.
She took aim.
Thwip!
The priest collapsed instantly, snoring before his body even hit the floor.
"No wedding without a priest," Blaze muttered under her breath.
She rushed forward, grabbed the old man by the arms, and with surprising strength, dragged him toward the backyard.
There, tucked beside a hedge, was a small, seldom-used storehouse. She shoved the unconscious priest inside and slammed the door shut.
Brushing dust off her dress, Blaze turned back toward the garden, a cold smile on her lips.
---