Faced with such an earnest plea, Milly hadn’t argued. If nothing else, she wanted to help Sierra through the ordeal. So she’d taught her a handful of little tricks, like how simply extending one’s fingers made a gesture look refined, and how nobles preened when their expressions were carefully watched.
Sierra had lapped up the advice, surprised, delighted, and quick to mimic. She was a fast learner. With only a glance at Milly’s demonstrations, she made the motions her own. Sierra had talent.
“Th-Then, if you’ll excuse me,” Sierra murmured.
She rose and, with visible hesitation, set her hands on the teapot. By the unspoken rules of the tea party, it fell to her, the commoner at their table, to serve. Now was the moment to put her practice into action.
Milly watched in silence, a strange, parental pride welling up inside her as Sierra poured. First into her own cup, then into Lizbel’s, the tea spread its gentle floral fragrance.
Yes, just like that. Keep your thumb clear of the handle. Perfect, perfect!
Sierra, unaware of Milly’s inner cheering, began to fill Milly’s cup. The proper measure was about three-quarters full, and just as the tea reached that point, the spout stopped. The precision of it made Milly’s eyes sting, as though she might weep at her pupil’s flawless performance.
Relieved, Sierra exhaled and set the pot back on the tray before returning to her seat. Milly rewarded her with a small round of applause. Lizbel, uncertain but willing, followed suit.
“Th-Thank you. I’m sorry it looked so clumsy.”
“Clumsy? Hardly! Sierra, you ought to give Lucius a course on posture and deportment!”
“I don’t know who that is, but, um, thank you,” Sierra replied, blushing and ducking her head.
Her shy smile and modest gesture tugged at the odd feeling Milly’d had while training Sierra for this moment.
She knew the word for it: envy.
Yes, while drilling Sierra on etiquette, Milly had found herself envying her. People sometimes said they envied Milly for being “so smart,” but they didn’t truly mean it. Her grades were good only because she crammed the same material over and over again. She couldn’t retain things after one try. Whenever Milly attempted to learn something new, it always felt like another piece of knowledge would fall right out of her head.
That was why she envied Sierra. Sierra picked things up quickly. Her smile shone like sunlight, and she seemed every inch the heroine of a story. So enviable that Milly felt, just for a moment, a dangerous temptation whisper through her heart.
“Lady Milly?” Lizbel’s tentative voice brought her back to herself.
Startled, Milly lifted her head. Across the table, Sierra and Lizbel sat waiting, teacups before them, uncertainty written plain on their faces. Milly’s eyes met Sierra’s open, guileless gaze. Milly flinched and turned away at once, her heart lurching into a gallop. A chill crept down her spine, and she asked herself in silence, What was I just about to think?
She had truly envied Sierra. That much was certain. But had she been on the verge of entertaining a thought she must never, ever allow?
“Milly? Won’t you have some tea?” Sierra’s tentative voice pulled her back.
Milly nearly broke into a cold sweat. “Oh, yes. I will. Sorry, I drifted off for a moment.”
“Are you feeling unwell? Perhaps we should call the school physician.”
“I’m fine. That doctor worries over every little thing.”
If the school physician were summoned, Milly would only be sent home again. Instead, she hurriedly lifted her cup, the floral fragrance rising with the steam somewhat easing her nerves.
I can’t let myself falter. This is the tea party. I should be enjoying it. She gave a brisk sniff, as though to steel herself, and then, a sharp crack split the air.
“Eeek!”
“Wha—?!”
Two cries rang out at once. Milly’s head whipped toward the sound. Sierra’s and Lizbel’s teacups had both broken at the handle, spilling tea across the tabletop as they rolled away.
“Are you two all right?!” Milly hastily set her own cup aside and leaned toward them, alarm tightening her voice.
“Y-Yes, I’m fine. It was just startling,” Sierra said breathlessly.
“You’re sure? None of the tea splashed your arms?”
“No, it’s just, the handles suddenly came loose. Looks like we drew the defective cups today,” Sierra answered with a nervous smile.
Lizbel nodded, echoing her with one of her own. Thankfully, neither seemed hurt.
Relieved, Milly raised one hand to summon a maid. The table needed to be cleaned, and she fully intended to deliver a complaint to whichever household had provided the faulty tea set.
The maid hurried over, swiftly tidied the mess, and placed a replacement set in the center of the table. She was about to retreat without waiting for dismissal when Milly’s voice stopped her. “Tell me. Which family supplied that tea set?”
The maid froze, faltering for a beat before answering. “I’m afraid I cannot say, my lady. Forgive me.”
“You weren’t told?”
“I was not, my lady.”
“I see. Then inform them this: Next time, they’d better commission a proper craftsman. If a friend of mine were hurt, I would not take it kindly.”
The halting reply had come across as knowing but forbidden to tell. Milly dismissed the maid with a curt wave.
“What a way to spoil the mood,” Milly muttered. “And after Sierra had poured so perfectly.”
“Don’t worry,” Sierra said brightly. “I’ll just do it perfectly again.” She reached for the fresh pot, her hands steadier now. “Oh, and Milly, let me take your cup. It’ll only grow cold sitting there.”
“That’s not necessary. I don’t mind if it’s cooled a little.”
“It is necessary,” Sierra insisted, already lifting Milly’s cup. “If I let the grand duke’s daughter drink lukewarm tea, I’ll be in trouble.”
How kind could this girl be? Watching as her own cup was pushed toward Sierra, Milly felt her frown soften. There wasn’t even room left for envy anymore.
“At least, um, this new set looks sturdier, don’t you think?” Perhaps trying to lighten the mood, Lizbel spoke with a slightly awkward smile, and both Milly and Sierra let out small laughs.
The replacement pot held mint tea this time. Sierra’s hands moved with growing confidence as she poured, and the fresh, cooling scent drifted through the air, easing the tension that had lingered at the table.
When Milly finally raised her cup and drank, the crisp flavor calmed her chest, and she exhaled in satisfaction. “Yes. Delicious. Perfect.”
Sierra’s face lit up, her cheeks turning pink.
“Indeed!” Lizbel concurred. “You managed to draw out the flavor exactly right!”
“Heh. Thank you. I wanted to bring out that refreshing note without dulling it, so I tried to be careful.” Smiling bashfully, Sierra lifted her own cup, the one that had originally been Milly’s. Unlike the earlier cups, its handle held firm.
“My, only practiced hands think to adjust technique to suit the leaves,” Milly praised.
“You must be very diligent,” Lizbel added warmly. “No matter how many lessons I take, I can never seem to get it right.”
“It’s talent,” Milly said decisively. “Sierra, I insist. You must teach Lucius manners.”
That earned a giggle. “If I ever have the chance to meet him, I just might.”
Sierra lifted her cup with a small smile and tipped it back. Her pale throat moved as she swallowed. Then her slender shoulders gave a sudden jolt.
“Uh...”
It was barely more than a groan. Milly, halfway through raising her own cup for a second sip, turned toward her just in time to see that Sierra’s fingers were no longer holding the handle at all.