Their chatter washed over me.
“I’m just relieved it all worked out. Thank goodness Lady Flora was here.”
“Oh, isn’t she just splendid? Where would House Sanchez be without their eldest?”
“She has it all, doesn’t she? Grace, beauty, intelligence...”
“And she’s a doting older sister to boot! What isn’t she capable of?”
“We need her in our family, we just do! We’d treat her like our own, we would!”
Voices laden with admiration and envy echoed around us. Yet Flora, gracefully aloof, seemed oblivious.
Seemed oblivious, but I knew she was not. The Flora they lauded was a carefully constructed facade, a far cry from the sister I truly knew.
Feigning concern, Flora sidled up to me, taking my hand and leaning in so close our faces nearly touched. “Carolina, are you all right? I know the truth hurts, but do try to keep your composure.” She was so close that her breath tickled my face. “You should know that you make such an excellent foil—how is it that you’ve managed to elevate me once again? Who said a disgrace like you couldn’t be useful? Well, to be fair, I suppose that you aren’t actually very useful most of the time.”
The real Flora, the side she revealed only to me, was the furthest thing from a “doting older sister” to ever exist. Even as her face remained the portrait of concern, venom dripped from her words. She was truly a woman who wore many masks.
“Now, be a good little wallflower, and do try to not draw too much attention to yourself. Surely even a disgrace like you can manage that?” Her giggle, light and airy, rang out as she pulled away. She didn’t even await a reply.
With an ostentatiously magnanimous smile that would make the Holy Mother blush, she placed her hand onto my head as if in benediction. “I must go now, Carolina, but should anything happen, all you need do is call out to me. Please, do try and enjoy the festivities.” She fell effortlessly back into the role of “doting older sister” in an instant. She stroked my hair with the utmost tenderness. I wanted nothing more than to slap that awful, awful hand away from me.
“Ciao for now,” she cooed, melting seamlessly back into the crowd.
I had no idea what drove her to such lengths to keep up appearances. Why bother? If she loathed me so profoundly, why not simply distance herself from me? Her reputation was already immaculate. Surely acknowledging the true nature of our strained relationship wouldn’t tarnish her image. It wasn’t as if she—
A sudden, sharp cry cut through the hall, jolting me out of my thoughts. Turning towards the source of the commotion, I saw a man lying sprawled on the floor, a young woman pinned beneath him. Judging from their location on the ballroom floor, it seemed a dance had taken a disastrous turn. The man must have lost his balance and fallen on top of his dance partner.
But to fall during a dance seemed improbably clumsy. Perhaps he had been distracted by something—or someone?
The scene erupted into chaos.
“My poor Maria! She’s pinned—you’re crushing her!” wailed a bystander, likely the mother of the besieged young woman.
“How will you answer for your actions?” another voice rang out accusingly. “If she bears any mark from this, you’ll marry her, won’t you?”
“Enough!” someone else shouted. “Lady Maria needs help first! Someone, contact the nearest hospital and tell them—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
A melodic, assertive voice as calming as birdsong cut through the clamor. All eyes turned to its owner. “Rest assured, I shall tend to them,” my sister said with poised assurance.
A murmur of realization spread. “Of course!” cried a voice in the crowd. “How could we have forgotten the Saint-to-be graces our gathering tonight! There’s no cause for alarm!”
“Forget doctors, Lady Flora is here!” another assured the gathering at large.
The distraught noblewoman at the fallen girl’s side implored, “Please, Lady Flora, help my poor Maria. If her face were to be disfigured before we could marry her off...”
Flora’s grin was confident, a touch mischievous even. “Do not fret, milady. She’ll be flawless once more.”
Relief flooded the woman’s features. She whispered another plea for help, then fell silent. Flora nodded and then immediately began tending to both Maria and her dance partner. While the man only bore a few minor bruises, the same couldn’t be said of the girl whose body had cushioned his fall. Aside from bruises and scrapes, she seemed to have suffered a broken foot, and most troubling of all, a torn lip. While that might’ve seemed the more trivial injury, in high society, any blemish on the face meant months away from public appearances, and that was to be avoided at all costs.
That was now, however, a moot point.
Finished with her examination, Flora closed her eyes and clasped her hands in prayer. A gentle, luminous glow enveloped her, extending to Maria and the man. In mere moments, their wounds were mended, leaving not a single trace of the accident. It was this miraculous ability that was Flora’s chief claim to fame, the primary reason she was held in such high esteem.
At this, the crowd erupted into a chorus of extravagant praise.
“Incredible! They don’t call Lady Flora the next Saint for nothing!”
“She must be our next Saint, I’d simply have it no other way!”
“Lady Flora will no doubt go down in history as the greatest Saint this country has ever seen!”
“With her guidance, our nation will know nothing but peace!”
Amidst the torrent of effusive acclaim, my eyes sought Flora. She smiled with utmost pride as she accepted the heartfelt gratitude from Lady Maria and her mother. Her personality aside, I had to admit: when it came to raw ability, none seemed better suited for the mantle of Saint than Flora.
The title of “Saint” was reserved only for the most distinguished female adepts of holy magic. Earning this honor required successfully navigating a rigorous set of trials, after which this prestigious designation would be conferred jointly by both the king and the archbishop. The title carried boundless reverence and influence. Although the Saint was a position unique to Celestia, her authority confined primarily within Celestian borders, the long-standing history and legacy of our Saints ensured that their influence was felt even beyond the boundaries of our kingdom.
Flora seemed preordained for this illustrious role. Her profound mastery over holy magic, the healing aspect of which she so readily demonstrated, set her apart. Her aptitude was so apparent that many already regarded her as a Saint in all but name. Only women who had come of age could become the Saint, but Flora’s current status as “Saint-to-be” was seen by most as a mere technicality. The consensus was clear: her ascension to Saint was inevitable.
“To have such intellect and beauty, and the talent to be Saint on top of that. It’s almost unfair,” I murmured. She had everything, while I had nothing. Swallowing my words, which stuck in my throat with the weight of their envy, I cast one more lingering glance at the ever-perfect Flora before turning away.