Chapter 2 The Step-Mother #2
“Father,” she smiled as she wrapped her arms around Lord Treveon, “what a special surprise to have you home.”
Gone was the man-made of iron, and there stood a father.
Like everyone else, he bent to Brielle’s will.
Embracing her, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.
For a few breaths, Luci forgot what it meant to have enough.
For a few moments, she wondered what it would be like to be loved like that.
Then she remembered that she had more than most ever had, and that was a comfort all on its own.
“You look well, sweetheart,” He said, running a large hand over Brielle’s cheek.
There was a gentleness to the lord that no one else was capable of pulling from him.
Only Brielle. She was the only thing outside of his ambition that ever found a way through his armored exterior.
It only served to stoke a fire within Luci’s chest because he didn’t deserve the love shining back in her eyes.
Brielle would have done anything for her father, even if it meant crawling on broken bones to him, but she would always come second to him.
Blythe and his ambition would forever be his priority.
“I’m feeling wonderful. Won’t you come inside and tell me all about court?” Brielle asked, threading her arm through his.
Something strained passed over his tan face, but it was there and gone before Luci could decide what it meant.
Even still, her heart beat a little faster.
Something was happening, and she had the distinct sensation that everything was about to change.
Maybe that was dramatic, but it was a knowing as strong as when she knew Brielle was about to take a turn for the worse.
In twenty years, she had never been wrong about when the fevers and the shakes would find Brielle.
It was a knowing that had no explanation.
“Yes, yes,” Lord Treveon said, “Mrs. Blakesley, have tea brought into the drawing room.”
Servants bowed as the Treveon family drew up the steps and into Blythe.
Luci followed a fraction behind, debating.
It was no secret that Lord Treveon disdained her presence.
He had always looked straight through Luci and found her wanting even when she was five years old.
The only reason he tolerated her was that he was gone to court at every possible moment and because it was the only thing Brielle had ever asked of him.
As Luci stepped into Blythe, she was struck by the foreign beauty.
Marble and the finest craftsmanship money could buy decorated its walls.
Much like the carriage had been, it was a symphony of white and blue with gold filigree to boast its wealth.
The winding staircase was the focal point of Blythe, with its shimmering steps and wide steps.
On the walls were portraits of Blythe’s previous occupants going back hundreds of years.
All of Brielle’s ancestors knew the truth, which was that only Brielle had any claim to Blythe through her mother.
Lord Treveon had married into Blythe. It had been a case of love.
Stefan was the disgraced grandson of a traitor to the crown and had nothing to his name, but, per legend, he saw Brielle’s mother, and it was love at first sight.
Brielle’s grandfather refused to allow the match, but when he died, it was Brielle’s uncle who inherited the estate, and there was nothing he loved more than his sister.
His sister was so much like Brielle. Frail, prone to illness.
The cynics called it a power grab. That Stefan Treveon was trying to resurrect the Treveon name from disgrace by marrying Eliza Desmares and stealing the Desmares fortune.
Luci had long believed that two things could be true at once.
There was no denying that Stefan Treveon reeked of ambition, but he had also loved his first wife.
Luci had been fifteen when she had realized it.
Brielle had taken to one of her fits of fever, and she had begged Luci for her mother’s silk scarf.
Without thinking twice, Luci had gone to Brielle’s mother’s room, which remained the same as it had when she had been alive, and found Lord Treveon holding a painting of his late wife, shaking his shoulder.
He never knew Luci had been there that day, but since then, she felt like she understood him just a little bit more.
“Luci,” Brielle called, reaching her hand back with a small smile.
Lord Treveon’s eyes flicked over Luci, and disgust curled at his lips.
“I thought perhaps to have some alone time with you, Brielle,” he said.
“Oh, but Stefan, Luci will want to hear the news as well!” Lady Treveon chirped as she wiped ferociously at Stasia’s eyes.
“News?” Brielle asked, eyes wide.
Lord Treveon heaved out a rough sigh. “Very well.”
Brielle’s beaming smile was enough for Luci as she crossed the distance to her. Brielle threaded her arm through hers, and a contented breath left her. There was the simple truth of Luci’s existence. She would endure any discomfort or any punishment if it made Brielle happy.
As if by magic, tea was already laid out in the drawing room with four sets of cups. Luci’s presence is already accounted for. Maybe it was her imagination, but she thought she heard a whispered grumble from Lord Treveon as he took a high-backed chair next to an expansive fireplace.
Luci and Brielle sat next to each other on a chaise, closest to the window, which was cracked open, letting in the afternoon breeze.
Lady Treveon took the other high-backed chair opposite her husband and tucked Stasia tightly beside her.
The dog huffed out a breath and angled its head, glaring at Luci.
Mrs. Blakesley followed close behind, carrying Drusilla, whom Lady Treveon reached for eagerly. “Oh, my baby, come here.”
Drusilla sent a sharp bark at Luci as she passed by.
On all the stars, Luci swore she had never done anything to the wretched little things, but from the moment they came to Blythe, they decided that Luci was their enemy. Luckily, Lady Treveon found the whole thing endlessly amusing.
“Oh, how you vex my girls, Luci,” she laughed, smoothing down Drusilla’s fur and murmuring sweet nothings at her.
Luci wasn’t exactly sure she was supposed to say that, so she gave her a half-hearted smile and hoped that sufficed while sending a small glare at the little beasts when she wasn’t looking. Lucy hadn’t started their feud, but she was prepared to see it to whatever end.
Brielle smirked next to her and patted her leg reassuringly before turning to her father.
“What is the news?” she asked.
“The tea, child,” He said, waving to the dark wooden table where the steaming pot sat with empty glasses.
Her cheeks felt like fire as she felt the insult settle over her, embedding itself into the core of who she was.
A servant. Maybe she didn’t get paid to be here, but she was given lodging, food, and clothing at the expense of his coin.
He wouldn’t let her forget it if he could help it.
It shouldn’t have mattered. Shouldn’t have grated along her bones, but she had never rued her place in the world.
Had never wanted more than she was given, but the way his cold eyes watched her made her want. She wanted more.
“Father,” Brielle whispered. “Luci isn’t a servant.”
The quiet indignation thawed the ice that had grown over Luci’s heart at the insult. It didn’t matter what the Lord of Blythe thought of her. He was merely a moment in time. So Luci did what he asked.
Placing a light hand over Brielle's, she gave her a reassuring smile. There was a slight darkness beneath her eyes that made Luci’s heart stutter.
It was all she could do not to reach for her and feel the coolness of her skin.
It always started small. Something inconsequential like a slight cough, bruising easily, or a passing sniffle, but it always ended the same.
With Brielle fighting for her life and Luci losing hers.
Every time the sickness came, it robbed Luci of years of health, the worry and anxiety living within her chest.
Maybe it was nothing, but she would make Brielle take a few extra tonics tonight, all the same. For now, she had something to prove. Luci stood with all the grace of a queen, feeling three pairs of eyes on her, five if you counted the beasts who waited for her to get close enough to bite.
The porcelain tea set felt wrong in her hands, as if she were holding something worth more than her life.
Carefully, she poured each cup except for one.
If he wanted to remind her of her place, she would rise to the occasion.
The silence was deafening. With such a beautiful spring day, the fireplace lay barren and unused, meaning all there was in the room was the sounds of breathing.
Luci settled into it, refusing to let her hands shake.
Once she mixed in the sugar and milk, she served Lady Treveon, who gave her a grateful smile that twitched slightly in discomfort. Next, Brielle, who bit her lip anxiously before setting down the tea on the table next to her.
If Luci hadn’t been so set on her course, she might have laughed.
Instead, she served Lord Treveon and gave him her best curtsy, which was not very good at all.
Nonetheless, his lip curled, having won.
Small men felt strong by making others weak.
It was the first lesson she had learned at the Meridian court, and it was one she would not soon forget.
Taking her seat, Luci smoothed her skirts and waited.
“Maybe don’t,” Brielle tried, but it was too late.