Adele made it to the dining table before anyone.

She sat patiently, with her back straight, and her hands resting lightly against the edge of the polished wood as though she had been carved into the chair itself.

The long table stretched before her, pristine and untouched. The morning light filtered through the tall windows, spilling across silverware and empty plates, making everything look softer than it truly was.

Her mind flickered briefly to the folded letters tucked neatly beside her pillow before coming downstairs.

She had moved them there without thinking.

They had been sitting in her room for days now, unopened, untouched, and ignored.

Her father’s handwriting stared back at her every time she passed them. She didn’t need to read them to know what they held.

Disappointment, expectation, and questions she had no intention of answering.

Her fingers twitched slightly, as though tempted to go back to her room, and reach for them.

She couldn’t face that version of him, not when she already carried enough weight in her chest.

She inhaled slowly, held her breath, then released it.

Footsteps echoed from the hall.

Adele didn’t move immediately.

However, when the sound drew closer, she lifted her gaze toward the entrance.

Mabel walked in. She walked in like she owned every inch of the space her feet touched.

Her smile was already in place, soft, polite, and perfectly measured.

Adele watched her without expression.

She watched as Mabel paused to exchange pleasantries with the maids, and also watched as the guards dipped their heads slightly in acknowledgment.

Adele looked away.

Her gaze dropped to the table napkin before her.

If anything made her more nauseous than the thought of opening her father’s letters, it was that smile.

That carefully crafted, perfectly placed, and utterly false smile.

She had no patience and no tolerance. And certainly no interest in pretending otherwise. It crazy how she seems to be the only person seeing through that smile.

She wouldn’t play friends.

Not with someone who was nothing more than an acquaintance wrapped in silk and pretense.

The chair across from her shifted. Mabel fabric rustled softly, yet Adele didn’t look up.

She didn’t need to. She could feel Mabel’s presence settle into the seat, deliberate, and calculated.

"I haven’t seen you for days now, Lady Blackfen." Mabel parted her lipd, and her voice came out smooth and light.

She spoke as though her and Adele had shared something worth missing.

"At least, not at the table." She added.

Adele didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at her, or acknowledge the words in any form.

Her attention remained fixed on the napkin beneath her fingers, tracing the faint embroidery along its edge.

Silence stretched between them.

Mabel let it stretch for a moment, then continued. "I must say," she went on, her tone thoughtful, almost admiring, "your swordsmanship skills are extremely remarkable."

Adele’s fingers paused.

Still, she didn’t look up.

"I’ve heard about the Blackfens," Mabel added, touching her now ginger hair lightly, "but seeing one up close with a sword was... thrilling."

Adele finally lifted her gaze.

"I’m glad I didn’t kill your expectations," she said flatly.

Mabel smiled. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes, but she smiled.

Adele had already looked away again. She looked back to the door, and alas, it was till closed.

No Alpha was in sight.

Mabel noticed. If anything, she leaned into the silence Adele kept throwing at her.

"You’ve been keeping to yourself lately," she observed. Still, she got no response from Adele. "Training often, I hear."

"Avoiding the table," she continued lightly. "Avoiding company."

Adele’s gaze remained fixed ahead, unmoved, and uninterested. This would be their ever first conversation. She couslnt geasp why Mabel kept pushing it.

She stared hard at the door, waiting for anything that would end this forced conversation.

Mabel tilted her head slightly, studying her. Then, she leaned closer. Not enough to be improper but just enough to be intrusive.

"Also," she said, lowering her voice just a fraction, "a little birdy whispered something to me."

That got Adele’s attentiom, as her eyes shifted. She turned her head and locked eyes with Mabel.

Mabel smiled wider. "Torak MacKenzie," she whispered.

The name landed softly.

But it didn’t feel soft. It dropped straight into Adele’s stomach, heavy, and cold. Her throat tightened.

Her body didn’t move but inside her, everything paused. Her eyes urged her to blink, and to break the moment.

Yet she didn’t. She held Mabel’s gaze instead, steady, and unflinching.

"Isn’t that Xanden’s Beta?" Mabel continued lightly, leaning back as though she hadn’t just shifted the entire air between them. "When someone told me they saw you two together some days ago, I swore she didn’t see properly."

Adele’s stomach dropped, so did her heart. Luckily, her face didn’t betray her.

She let a breath pass through her nose, then tilted her head slightly.

"People see many things," she said calmly. "Especially when they’re looking for something to talk about."

Mabel’s eyes sharpened.

Adele maintained her smile. "Your concern touches my heart," she said smoothly, folding her napkin over her lap with deliberate care, "but it is misplaced."

Mabel’s smile did not falter.

If anything, it deepened. She had expected nothing less.

"How reassuring," Mabel replied lightly, reaching for the teapot. "I do dislike wasting concern on the undeserving."

Adele said nothing.

Her gaze had already drifted back to the door. Her fingers rested neatly on the table, but beneath it, her leg had gone still.

Torak MacKenzie.

Of all names.

Mabel poured tea into her cup with slow precision, the soft clink of porcelain filling the silence that Adele refused to break.

"You know," Mabel continued, as though they were simply two ladies exchanging idle morning pleasantries, "rumors are such fragile things."

Adele did not react.

"They either die quietly," Mabel added, lifting her cup, "or grow teeth. Imagine your father getting a whisper about this."

Adele finally turned her head again. She turned slowly, and controlled, not to appear defensive.

"And which do you prefer?" she asked.

Mabel met her gaze over the rim of her cup. "That depends," she said, her voice soft. "On whether they amuse me."

Adele held her stare.

There was no panic in her eyes. There was no denial either. She simply maintained a still gaze.

"Then I suppose," Adele said, "you must be very entertained."

Mabel smiled into her tea. "Oh, Mildly," she admitted. "Though I do wonder..."

She set the cup down gently. "...how a lady of your standing finds herself in such... coincidental company."

Adele tilted her head slightly. "Coincidences happen," she said calmly. "Even to those who think themselves above them."

Mabel let out a soft hum. "Of course," she agreed. "But some coincidences are... deliberate."

Adele didn’t rise to it. She simply reached for the water glass before her and took a slow sip.

Mabel watched her closely. "You’re very composed," Mabel noted.

Adele set the glass down. "I find it helps," she replied.

"Even when your name is being tied to a Beta who isn’t your mate?" Mabel questioned.

Adele’s lips curved slightly. "Especially then."

A brief silence followed.

Mabel leaned back in her seat, studying her like one would study a puzzle missing a piece.

"I must admit," she said after a moment, "I expected a stronger reaction."

Adele raised a brow. "Disappointment doesn’t suit you," she said.

Mabel chuckled softly. "Oh, I’m not disappointed," she said. "Just... curious."

Adele didn’t respond. Curiosity was not a weapon unless given something to feed on. So she have learned from her father.

And she had no intention of feeding Mabel anything.

The doors remained closed.

Still no Alpha.

Adele’s gaze flickered to them again, just for a second.

Mabel caught it. "You’re eager this morning," she observed.

Adele didn’t bother denying it. "I prefer not to linger where I am not entertained," she said.

Mabel smiled. "And yet, here you are."

"For now."

Mabel tapped her fingers lightly against the table.

"You know," she said, her tone shifting just slightly, "it would be unfortunate if such a... delicate reputation like yours were to be mishandled."

Adele turned to her again. At the point, she’d give anything to slap this lady before her. Sadly, she couldn’t.

"And it would be unfortunate," Adele replied calmly, "if assumptions were made without understanding the full picture."

Mabel’s eyes gleamed. "So there is a picture."

Adele held her gaze. "There is always a picture," she said. "Whether you’re capable of seeing it or not is another matter entirely."

For the first time, Mabel paused.

Then she smiled again, wider this time. "Careful, Lady Blackfen," she said lightly. "That almost sounded like a warning."

Adele’s expression didn’t change. "Only if you choose to hear it that way."

Mabel leaned slightly closer again, lowering her voice just enough. "You should be more cautious," she said. "Not everyone in this castle is as... forgiving as I am."

Adele let out a soft breath. "Forgiveness implies offense," she said. "You’ve yet to establish one."

Mabel studied her for a long moment. Then, slowly, she leaned back. "Well," she said, smoothing her dress, "I suppose time will tell."

"Also," Mabel went on softly, her gaze dropping briefly to Adele’s neck, "you do have the most gorgeous neck I’ve ever seen."

Adele swallowed secretly.

"It holds your head up so beautifully," Mabel continued, her voice still light, still pleasant. "I’d hate to see them apart," she added, just as sweetly, "for whoring around."

Adele returned her sweet smile.