Fated Eclipse: The Illegitimate Princess And Her Alpha Suitors

Chapter 82: Petals and Pretence

Lyria’s POV

Jacinta did not take long to decide.

For all her earlier indecision, once she saw it, there had been no contest.

She settled on the ivory gown. The gown had the faintest blush of rose, as though the colour had been coaxed from the inside of a seashell. The fabric itself was silk, soft and luminous, catching the light in a way that made it seem almost alive. Delicate embroidery trailed along the bodice and down the skirts in winding patterns of silver-threaded vines, each curve precise, each leaf painstakingly formed.

Tiny seed pearls had been sewn into the design—so small they did not overwhelm, but caught the light just enough to shimmer with movement.

The neckline was modest by court standards, but shaped in such a way that it drew attention upward, framing her face rather than competing with it. The sleeves were fitted to the wrist, sheer at the forearms, with faint lace detailing that softened the entire look.

It was... beautiful.

There was no denying that.

Even I, who had very little inclination to admire anything that belonged to her, could not find fault in it.

The colour made her eyes appear brighter. Not by matching them, but by contrast—drawing out the clarity of the blue until it seemed almost vivid. And when she smiled, as she did now while studying herself in the mirror, the softness of the gown lent warmth to the expression, making it appear more genuine than it often was.

Kyia, standing just behind her, clasped her hands together.

”It suits you perfectly, Your Highness.”

Jacinta tilted her chin slightly, turning her head from one side to the other.

”Yes,” she said, pleased. ”It does.”

Of course it did.

Everything was made to suit her.

”Bring the parasol,” Jacinta added after a moment. ”The ivory one. Not the lace.”

”At once, Your Highness.”

The maids moved with quiet efficiency, retrieving what was needed. I remained still.

”Remove that,” Jacinta said suddenly.

For a brief moment, I thought she spoke to someone else.

Then her gaze shifted to me.

”The mask,” she clarified, as though I had been slow to understand. ”You will remove it.”

”Your Highness?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. ”There is no place for you to watch from the shadows as you normally would, so you will be in line with the maids instead, and if you wore that mask, you would bring attention upon yourself—attention you are not even worth. So remove it.”

Attention I did not want, too.

I sighed and then removed the mask.

She gave me a disgusted look.

”Make sure to keep your head down. No one wants to stare at you, especially when you look as ugly as that,” she said.

I would rather be glad if I didn’t have to go with her, if I could just stay in my own chambers and maybe sneak out to visit Patricia or my mother. But alas, I couldn’t.

And besides, in this situation it was better I obeyed. It was better I didn’t argue with her or question her judgement. In due time, all this would pass away.

---

The flower garden sat in the East Courtyard.

I had not always disliked it.

When I was little, I had wandered in once, before I had properly learned which parts of the palace were mine to occupy and which were not.

A bee had formed a strong opinion about my presence, and I had not returned voluntarily since.

Even now, I found myself more aware of the faint buzzing that occasionally drifted through the air than I would have liked.

But I could admit it was beautiful. The parts that were well kept, anyway.

Roses lined the main path in deep red and pale cream, fully open in the morning light. Lavender ran in long, straight rows further in, the purple catching the sun, the scent drifting across the paths in warm waves. Wisteria covered the eastern wall in heavy pale purple curtains that swayed when the breeze moved through them. Below it, white anemones and soft pink peonies filled the beds, their petals almost too full, drooping slightly under their own weight.

The paths between were pale gravel, neat and well maintained. Small iron benches sat at intervals, positioned to face the best arrangements, as though the garden had been designed specifically to admire itself—which, knowing the palace, it probably had been.

Jacinta walked at the centre of it all, the ivory parasol held delicately above her head, shielding her from the sun despite the gentle warmth of the day.

She looked precisely as she was meant to... important and untouched.

The rest of us followed.

A small procession of maids, arranged in quiet order, each maintaining the appropriate distance. Heads lowered. Steps measured.

I stood among them—not at the front or at the back, but somewhere in between—where I could be the shadow I was meant to be... at least according to Jacinta.

---

The Baron was already in the garden when we arrived.

He stood near one of the central paths, his posture straight, his hands clasped lightly behind his back.

He was, as always, impeccably dressed.

There was not a single detail out of place.

His coat was dark—deep green, nearly black in certain lights—tailored perfectly to his frame. The fabric was fine, the cut precise. His cravat was tied with exactness, his gloves fitted cleanly against his hands.

His hair, that distinct forest-green, was pulled back neatly, secured with a dark ribbon.

And his spectacles rested perfectly where they always did. Again, I was struck by how handsome the Baron was.

He turned as Jacinta approached.

”Your Highness,” he said as he bowed in greeting.

Jacinta smiled.

”Baron Redwick.”

Her voice carried that soft brightness she reserved for occasions such as this.

”You are early.”

”I prefer punctuality,” he replied simply.

”Of course you do,” she said with a light laugh. ”It is one of your many admirable qualities.”

His expression did not change.

”I am pleased you chose the gardens,” he added, glancing briefly around. ”It is... a thoughtful selection.”

”I am glad you think so,” Jacinta replied. ”I wished for something... serene.”

”Then you have succeeded.”

They began to walk, side by side and rather slowly. Pardon me, but this was the first date I had ever experienced, and I had no idea it was like this.

”I must say,” Jacinta began after a moment, her tone carefully casual, ”your painting was quite remarkable.”

Julian inclined his head slightly.

”You are kind.”

”It is not kindness,” she said. ”It is truth. There was no surprise, truly, that you won.”

”I was only completing the task as instructed.”

She laughed softly.

”Yes, you have said that already. But surely, Baron, you must admit—you went beyond what was required.”

”I did what I deemed appropriate.”

”That is precisely my point.”

He did not respond to that.

Jacinta continued anyway.

”The attention to detail,” she said. ”The composition. It was... refined.”

”Precision is necessary in such matters.”

”And talent,” she added.

”If you say so.”

There was a brief silence. It was not uncomfortable, but it was not entirely warm either.

The Baron’s gaze shifted, then his steps slowed, and his eyes widened a fraction.

Jacinta noticed immediately.

”What is it?” she asked, a slight frown touching her features.

He did not answer at once.

Instead, he took a few steps off the path.

Toward one of the less maintained sections of the garden.

I noticed it before he reached it.

A single bloom, partially obscured among the others. It was not arranged, and I was very certain it was not meant to be in the garden either.

His eyes sharpened behind his spectacles.

He leaned slightly closer, studying the flower.

”That is...” he murmured.

Jacinta stepped closer, though with far less enthusiasm.

”What is it?” she asked again.

”Is that a Ghost Orchid?” he asked, pointing at the flower.