ISOLDE / #495b70 / attire X COL / #53706a / attire X EMERY/ #62566b / attire
Into the dark of the arch the swan floats
and into the black depth of my sorrow
it bears a white rose of flame
As Westerly returned to his side, Col called out to Avery, "You must join us, Lord Avery- I'm sure I am not alone in wanting to hear all the gory details of your mid-trip adventures!"
Isolde and Emery both smiled softly at their brother's antics, before turning their attentions to their own escorts. Or, in Isolde's case, lack thereof.
βI beg for your forgiveness, my Lady.β
"No apology necessary, your grace. You are merely being a good host."
Isolde watched as her sister and brother left for the dining tables with their respective escorts with a brewing envy. She could sense her mother's wrath even when the Lady Cavalier was no longer present- it bloomed like storm clouds; an inevitable, unstoppable threat.
βLady Isolde, youβre looking beautiful as ever tonight. Might I have the honour of escorting you to dinner?β
Isolde looked up at the young Lord Thorne, betraying no sign of her inquisitiveness even as she studied him. He was far more handsome than she had anticipated- her mother had warned her about the Thorne family, but the woman had never claimed them a pretty bunch. The way she had described them, Isolde had expected a more frightening trio of children. But even his dark eyes were far from piercing; on the contrary, they were soft. Pools of ink, not poison.
Greeting him with a bow of her head, she took his arm. "The honour would be all mine, my lord."
Escorting Westerly to the dining table, he glanced up in surprise when Westerly's chair was pulled out for her before he had the chance to even reach for it. As soon as he recognised the man responsible, however, his surprise faded into calm amusement. He knew enough about the Thorne family to be well aware of the unfortunate reputation of Bastion in particular. The young lord seemed proud of himself, although he hid any trace of smugness behind a conciliatory smile.
His rude act was followed by another, as he seated himself without hesitation at the head of the table. As Col took a seat beside Westerly, he chuckled, offering Bastion a good-humoured grin.
"Well, it is certainly a relief to find that your reputation for impertinence is unfounded, Lord Bastion. On the contrary, it seems as though you are polite to the point of competition."
As she followed her own escort to the table, Isolde restrained a snort at her brother's comment. He was always so polite, so jovial- to the point that it often seemed as though he was mocking people under the guise of well-mannered compliments. This seemed such an occasion- his compliment placed Bastion's actions in such an inappropriately positive light, it bordered on forced. Or it would have, if the young Cavalier did not have such a knack for sincerity.
Emery too, stifled a smile, although her focus was on decidedly more impressive things. Namely, her escort, who alarmed her still with his very presence at her side.
βWould you like a drink, My Lady?β
She knew she should probably refrain, but her nerves had incited a parch in her, and she offered her goblet.
"If it pleases your grace."
Her tongue grew ever more parched when Declan raised his goblet, directing his toast to her. βTo you, My Lady. To your beauty that brightens this castle, and that your time here is all you desire and more.β
She raised her own glass to meet his toast, smiling politely as her siblings did the same. She sensed a coolness in her sister- Emery had known Isolde long enough to know when the woman was perplexed, even if she did hide it well. And she did not blame her- how could she, when she herself was just as baffled by the crown-prince's actions? Col, on the other hand, raised his glass with his signature enthusiasm, adding to the toast.
"And to you and your family, your grace, for hosting us all so excellently."