Free Web NovelChapter 311: Chapter 311
Ten noblewomen sat comfortably within the space, needles flashing, fingers moving with practiced ease as they conversed amicably.
"Well, of course I told him," Lady Elara was saying, her needle darting in and out of the fabric. "If a man insists on giving advice, the least he can do is listen when it’s returned."
A ripple of soft, knowing laughter followed.
Across from her, Lady Mina smiled serenely, her posture flawless, her shoulders relaxed as her embroidery steadily took shape beneath her fingers, a delicate pattern of flowers already well on its way to perfection.
"You’re kinder than I am," she said lightly. "I wouldn’t have let him finish speaking before ignoring him entirely."
More laughter followed, the sort that spoke of excellent breeding and impeccable manners.
Between them sat Circe. She caught only the tail end of the conversation, her attention fixed far more intently on the embroidery hoop clutched in her hands. She glared down at it as though it had personally offended her.
Her thread was tangled again, knotted into an even worse mess than the last time. She tugged at it once. Nothing moved. She tugged again, harder. The fabric puckered unpleasantly beneath the strain.
How, she wondered for perhaps the fiftieth time, did they all make this look so effortless?
Lady Elara’s needle slid smoothly through her cloth again. Lady Mina’s fingers moved in calm, graceful motions. Even the two women across the room—who had not paused their stitching once while discussing Hairan’s betrothed—were producing neat, even patterns. Ever since the news of the upcoming royal wedding had reached Amris, and it seemed to be all anyone wanted to talk about. freewebnøvel.com
Circe, meanwhile, appeared to be attempting to strangle her fabric.
She frowned harder and poked at the knot with her needle. The knot only tightened in defiance.
"Is it meant to do that?" she muttered under her breath.
Lady Mina glanced over, her gaze flicking briefly to Circe’s hoop. The corner of her mouth twitched. "It usually does not."
Circe sighed and leaned back into the settee, lifting the hoop and tilting it this way and that, as though viewing it from a different angle might magically fix the problem. It did not. If anything, the knot seemed to have grown more complex, mocking her efforts.
"I don’t understand," Circe said, lowering her voice so only the women beside her could hear. "I am following the instructions."
When Mina had first extended the invitation to this weekly gathering, Circe had been intrigued. Since she had begun thinking of Amris as her new home, she had found herself more willing to attend social gatherings, to immerse herself in the charm and customs of the town.
Then she learned that the gathering involved embroidery. Her first instinct had been to back out immediately. Her previous experiences with embroidery had been nothing short of disastrous, and she had been perfectly content to never attempt it again. But the prospect of spending time with her newly acquired friends, of belonging, even in this small way had been too appealing to refuse.
Ragnar, for his part, had seen no issue with it when she told him. His only condition was that she went with her two guards and his approval had sealed the matter.
And now here she was, suffering.
She should have known embroidery would not grow easier with time. If anything, it seemed to grow more determined to defeat her.
She pursed her lips as the needle pricked her finger for the third time in the last hour, biting back a sharp curse.
Across the room, one of the other ladies glanced up, noticing Circe’s expression.
"Trouble with the stitching, Your Highness?"
"No," Circe replied immediately. Then, more quietly to herself, she added, "The stitching is having trouble with me."
Lady Mina pressed her lips together, her shoulders shaking faintly as she no doubt heard the whispered words.
Circe gave the thread one last, ill-advised pull. The knot tightened further and the thread snapped. The needle slipped from her fingers and bounced once against the floor with a faint click.
Lady Elara chuckled as she leaned down to retrieve it. "Perhaps you should supervise instead."
"Yes," Circe said promptly, relief washing over her. "I believe that will be for the best."
Just then, Lady Kaelith Arnild—Mina’s mother-in-law—moved toward where the three of them sat. Her measured steps carried her across the room, and she stopped only when she stood directly in front of Circe, leaving just a few feet of space between them.
"Your Highness," Kaelith dipped her head in a respectful bow. When she spoke, her voice carried the grace of a woman well practiced in the art of hosting. "Allow me to apologize once again. Had I known in advance that my daughter-in-law would be bringing you along to this week’s session, I would have ensured that everything was arranged more thoughtfully to better suit your tastes. Unfortunately, Mina failed to inform me until the very last moment, leaving me with little more than a single day to prepare."
The final words were delivered with a razor-sharp edge, a pointed jab aimed squarely at Mina beneath the veneer of courtesy.
Mina, for her part, did not comment on Kaelith’s deliberate choice of phrasing. She merely kept her expression neutral, resigned to it now. The ease with which she absorbed the slight told Circe that this was a frequent occurrence.
Circe responded with a polite smile. "There is no trouble at all," she said gently. "Thank you for your warm welcome. You already have a beautiful home, there truly is no need to change a single thing."
Kaelith’s face brightened immediately, her earlier sharpness melting into visible pleasure. "Well, thank you, Your Highness. Had I known you were open to such gatherings, I would have invited you myself long ago." She gestured lightly toward the room. "Please, do enjoy yourselves and do not hesitate to let me know if there is anything you require."
With that, she swept away, her attention already shifting as she moved to speak to another cluster of guests.
As soon as Kaelith departed, Circe felt a prickling awareness crawl along her spine. Her gaze drifted across the room until it landed on Kaelith’s daughter, Sasha, seated stiffly in a chair near the far wall. The young woman’s eyes were fixed on Circe, cool and assessing. She offered no more than a thin, perfunctory smile before dropping her gaze back to the embroidery in her lap, only to stab her needle into the fabric with unnecessary force.
The soft, irritated huff beside her drew Circe’s attention back to Mina.
"This is exactly why I was dreading coming here alone." Mina murmured under her breath, leaning closer, Her voice was low, edged with weary frustration. "I don’t even understand why she keeps inviting me when she so clearly cannot stand the sight of me. If it weren’t for the two of you accompanying me, I swear I would have thrown myself down the stairs just to have a legitimate excuse not to come."
