The invitation arrived on silver-edged parchment that smelled faintly of desperation and lilies.
I held it between two fingers like it might be contagious. "A literary soiree? Who does she think we are? People with attention spans? Last book I finished had pictures and speech bubbles!"
Across my bedroom, Valeria didn't look up from sharpening a hairpin into something that could probably double as a murder weapon. "We go. We look devastating. We say nothing of intellectual value and leave everyone thoroughly intimidated."
I flopped onto my bed. "Can't we boycott? Claim a sudden plague? A familial curse that activates in the presence of iambic pentameter? I heard the mage Silas has a face that could sour milk—we could blame him!"
An hour later, we were in the library. Not to read. To accessorize.
"Every villainess needs a prop book," Valeria declared.
"I found one!" I held up a massive tome. "On the Metaphysics of Dwarven Stone-polishing, Vol. VII. It has diagrams. Of rocks. Look, this one's labeled 'Gregory.' I feel you, Gregory. You're just a rock and people expect you to be shiny."
Valeria tossed me reading glasses with clear lenses. "Wear these. They make you look like you have thoughts."
"They make me look like a librarian who's about to shush God," I grumbled, putting them on. My vision immediately went weird. "I think I'm getting a migraine. Is this what intelligence feels like? I hate it."
Mira entered, now carrying a hint of sass. "My lady, I hid the lemon tarts you stress-eat."
I gasped. "Mira! That's a declaration of war! Those tarts are my emotional support system! Without them, I might have to feel my feelings!"
"We are at war, cousin," Valeria said.
Our "studying" was interrupted by Kael, who leaned in the doorway.
"The enemy is a book," he stated, voice flat. "How terrifying."
He left.
Valeria and I looked at each other. A snort escaped me. "He's not wrong," I giggled. "This book weighs more than my future prospects." We burst into laughter, clutching our terrible literature. For a moment, we weren't villainesses. We were just two girls armed with rocks and bad decisions.
—
Seraphina's townhouse was... aggressively tasteful. White lilies everywhere. It smelled like vanilla and subtle ambition. I half-expected a choir of angels to start singing every time she blinked.
We made our entrance. Valeria was a slash of crimson. I, in emerald green, tried to emulate a shadow. A shadow carrying a book about rocks.
I spotted Cassian near a fern. My bias! My heart did its usual gymnastics routine. Stay cool, Liriel. You're a mysterious noblewoman, not a fangirl at a concert.
Don't wave. Don't wink. Definitely don't do the heart-hands.
A shadow fell over my page. Silas the Mage.
"'Geological melancholy as expressed through graded slate,'" he read. His eyebrow lifted. "Do you subscribe to the Granite School of thought?"
My brain: ABORT. ABORT. HE'S ASKING ABOUT ROCKS. I DON'T KNOW ROCKS. I ONCE THOUGHT QUARTZ WAS A TYPE OF CHEESE.
My mouth: "I'm... a pluralist? A schist-granite synergist? Haha... rocks, am I right?"
He drifted away. I caught Cassian watching. Great. Now he thinks I'm a rock weirdo. Maybe he's into geology? Do I need to learn about igneous formations? Can you flirt with sedimentary layers?
Trying to escape, I backed into a server. The tray tilted. Dozens of mini-quiches launched into the air—directly at Cassian.
Not AGAIN! I'm A Menace TO THIS MAN'S DRY CLEANING BILL!
He didn't flinch. Just sidestepped smoothly. Splat. Splat. Splat. The quiches hit the wall behind him.
He offered a napkin to the server. "A hazardous design."
Then his eyes found mine. And he winked.
HE WINKED. Cassian Veldt winked. Is this A fever dream? Did One of those quiches hit me in the head? My soul briefly left my body to do a victory lap around the chandelier.
Ronan's falcon landed on my head.
I froze. "Um. Hello, sky chicken."
"It likes you!" Ronan beamed.
Valeria muttered, "Even the beasts find you chaotic."
Cassian looked... concerned. For my hairstyle. He cares about my updo! This is progress! Wait, does he think I look like a bird perch? Is that attractive?
Seraphina announced the poetry game. Fate arranged the circle: Adrian -> Valeria -> Liriel -> Cassian.
NO. NO NO NO. I have to write poetry for cassian. My poetry skills peaked at "ROSES ARE RED, VIOLETS ARE BLUE, I'D RATHER BE IN BED, HOW ABOUT YOU?"
Panic set in. Valeria passed me her line—a surprisingly sweet insult about me being a wrong-key symphony. My eyes stung. My villainess cousin lowkey loves me! Don't cry, Liriel! Your mascara is waterproof but your dignity isn't!
Now it was my turn. Cassian was waiting. Paper in hand. Pen poised.
BRAIN, DON'T FAIL ME NOW.
What do I write?
Option 1: "Your eyes are like amber, warm and deep." Too basic. Rejected.
Option 2: "I would fight the plot for you." Too revealing. Also might get me committed.
Option 3: "I LIKE YOUR FACE. IN BIG LETTERS. WITH A HEART." NO, Liriel, You Animal.
My hand moved on its own. I scribbled something, folded it fast before I could regret it, and passed it to him.
He opened it. His expression didn't change. He folded it and tucked it into his inner pocket.
The mystery note. What did I write? did I accidentally write "I WOULD LIKE TO TOUCH YOUR GLOVES"? OH GOD.
Later, I found him on the balcony. He held my note.
"You didn't share it," I said.
"No."
"What did I write?"
He handed it back. I read my own messy scrawl:
"The quietest room in the loudest house."
Oh THANK GOD. It's actually... good? metaphorical? not deranged? Relief washed over me.
"Accurate?" I asked.
He turned. "Yes. But how did you know?"
I shrugged. "I pay attention to the things everyone else is too loud to hear."
Like the sound of MY OWN HEART doing A drum solo whenever you're near, but I won't say that.
A small, real smile touched his lips.
He smiled. A real one. Not a polite noble one. I did that. with words. take that, ENGLISH CLASS!
—
In the carriage, Valeria broke the silence.
"He kept your note."
"He's polite."
"Idiot. He put it close to his heart. A strategist knows the value of sentiment." She turned, serious. "That Pineapple Prince looked at me like I was a puzzle he wants to solve with a hammer."
I grinned. "So what's the plan?"
"A conspiracy. Of cousins." She extended a hand.
I took it. "Chaotic cousins."
"Obviously."
—
Next morning, two packages arrived.
For Valeria: A single white lily. Prince's seal. Ooh, subtle. And creepy.
For me: A small parcel. Inside, a beautifully carved wooden unicorn with a perfectly straight horn.
No note.
He remembered the crooked unicorn. He made it right. He carved me a straight one. I'M GOING TO NAME HIM GERALD AND KEEP HIM FOREVER.
I hugged Gerald the unicorn to my chest, my face doing things that would make Valeria roll her eyes for a century.
~🫶