CHAPTER 27: CHAPTER 27 – THE EARL’S GATHERING

The dress fit tighter than Morena expected. Slim down the waist, falling smooth to her ankles, the fabric was midnight black with a faint sheen when it caught the light.

She had thought it plain when she first laid it out, but once on, she quite liked the look of it. Against her pale skin, the black seemed to drink in the light, drawing the eye to the contrast of her hair and eyes.

Alina stopped in the hall, her red dress bright as fire by comparison, and blinked at her older sister.

"Well... that actually suits you."

Morena arched a brow.

"Surprised?"

"I expected you to look like you were headed to a funeral," Alina admitted, circling her once.

"But instead it just—"

She gestured vaguely at her, lips quirking as she thought.

"—highlights you. Makes your eyes sharper. It’s good. You should wear things like that more often. Guess black is your color."

Morena glanced her sister over in turn. Alina’s gown was more playful, a softer red that made her hair even more vivid. The blade at her hip ruined the illusion of delicacy, but that was Alina through and through.

"And you look like the hall already belongs to you."

Alina’s grin widened at that.

"Naturally. Come on—we’ll be late."

The Earl’s estate was lit from wall to wall, every torch burning high, every banner stretched wide as if to show off the family’s fame. The black bear sigil loomed above the gates, flanked by iron braziers that spat sparks into the night air.

Carriages lined the courtyard, attendants moving with the efficiency of practiced spectacle.

The Ravenscroft carriage rolled in, and when the sisters stepped down together, a ripple went through the nearest crowd.

Alina was expected; she had come for years, and many expected her this year as well.

Morena was new.

At first, many were confused as to who she was, but soon enough they were surprised. Rumors spread quickly; some murmured of her broken core, others about family matters. More than a few eyes lingered longer than polite, measuring her, speculating, or simply admiring the unexpected elegance of the elder Ravenscroft daughter.

Morena ignored them. She had been watched before—by servants, by council members, by her father’s soldiers. This was no different. She let her gaze slide across the torches, the musicians in the entryway, the sweep of colored gowns spilling into the main hall.

Alina leaned closer, smiling as she spoke.

"See? Already making them stare. Try not to scowl too hard. You’ll send them running."

Morena’s lips twitched, but she said nothing, only followed as they moved into the hall.

Inside, music swelled. A quartet of strings played near the far balcony, filling the air with something lively but not overbearing. The scent of roasted meat and spiced wine drifted from the banquet tables lining one wall.

Nobles clustered in groups across the marble floor, bright silks and polished boots catching the glow of chandeliers.

Alina peeled off almost instantly, her smile warm as she spotted acquaintances.

"I’ll be just there. Don’t brood in a corner all night, try to talk to some people, build connections."

Morena did exactly that.

A glass of wine in her hand, she found a quiet stretch near a pillar and let herself fade into the background; her black dress helped. Let Alina laugh and flutter among her friends; Morena had no interest in gossip about who married whom or which family’s son had failed his tests last season.

Most of all, she didn’t want to enter the battlefield that was politics.

Still, she wasn’t left alone for long.

A young man in a navy coat approached with too-bright eyes, bowing quickly.

"Lady Ravenscroft, isn’t it? An honor. I hear this is your first time attending the Blackbear gathering."

"Indeed," Morena said, her tone polite but dry.

"Then allow me to—"

She tilted her head, offering the faintest smile without warmth, and quickly interrupted his speech.

"Your name?"

He stuttered a little, gave it quickly, and pressed on with small talk about the estate, about the hunt, about the weather. Morena answered with feigned interest, never rude, but never inviting.

When he noticed that she had little interest in the conversation after a few minutes, he excused himself, muttering thanks.

Another tried soon after, emboldened perhaps by wine or her appearance. He attempted charm, a joke about how she must have frightened half the room by looking so severe. Morena responded with a dry remark that slid past his wit entirely, leaving him floundering until he, too, retreated.

It didn’t bother her. Better that they learned early that she had no interest in being toyed with.

The air shifted before anyone spoke.

The sound of boots against stone, the weight of presence—Earl Duran had arrived.

Broad as the doorframe, his dark hair streaked with gray, his beard full, he wore no silks, only a heavy coat lined with bear fur.

When he raised his arms, the hall quieted without command. He was a man of great renown, and while he may not have earned his title himself, that did not mean he wasn’t respected.

After all, the man before her today was a Rank 1 Warrior, one who had reached the peak of his level at that, only a step away from Rank 2.

"My friends, my hunters, my blooded sons and daughters!"

His voice boomed, more suited to a battlefield than a ballroom.

"Welcome to Blackbear! Another year, another hunt! May your arrows fly true, your swords strike clean, and may we leave this hall with more stories than scars!"

Laughter and cheers erupted; glasses lifted, the hall alive with agreement.

Duran laughed once, clapped a nearby shoulder, and began moving through the crowd. He greeted nobles loudly, personally, speaking with each family in turn. When he finally reached the Ravenscrofts, Morena could feel the weight of the man’s presence before her.

"Lord Ravenscroft honors me yet another year," Duran said, his voice carrying easily. "And this time, not only with Alina, ever a fine guest, but with Lady Morena at last."

The word at last was smooth, but Morena heard the edge. As though her absence had been negligence, perhaps he held some curiosity about her, but didn’t outright say it.

She inclined her head just enough to show respect, but she did not bow to the man.

"My thanks for your welcome, Earl Duran. I have heard many great things about you and your feats."

He studied her openly, his eyes glinting with some mix of interest and measure.

"Nonsense, your words honor me. Your father is a man I respect. Hard-won titles shine brighter than inherited ones. And his daughters—ah, well. Perhaps the Ravenscroft name will prove even sharper in your hands."

It was flattery and a barb at once. Morena let it pass without answering.

Behind him, two figures stepped forward at his gesture.

"Ah, let me introduce you. My children. Cedric, my son, heir to Blackbear. Elira, my daughter—she is the white swan amongst our family."

Cedric bowed lightly; his smile was confident, and from his smile and presence, Morena could tell that the man was around the level of a low-rank apprentice. In energy alone, he was weaker than her, but she couldn’t doubt his experience.

Elira’s smile was brighter, her greeting genuine. She couldn’t feel any energy from the girl, and her body did not show signs of training.

Duran’s voice, just a shade louder than necessary, spoke out once more.

"Wouldn’t it be something if Ravenscroft and Duran blood hunted side by side, not just tomorrow, but always?"

The implication rippled through those listening, causing a wave of murmurs to spread through those who understood his intentions. Morena’s expression didn’t shift. Alina flushed faintly but said nothing.

Duran clapped Cedric’s shoulder, laughed again, and moved on to greet others, leaving his son and daughter in their company.

"Do excuse me while I greet the others. Allow my children to keep you company for now."

Cedric was charming, annoyingly so. It was like eating candy that was so sweet it ached your teeth; Morena hated it.

"An honor, truly," he said, his voice smoother than his father’s as he took a bow and reached out to kiss both their hands. Alina didn’t stop the young man, but Morena didn’t offer her hand.

Recovering from one out of two rejections, he quickly smiled and spoke.

"My father speaks well of you, Lady Alina. And you, Lady Morena—I admit I’d wondered if the stories were exaggerated. They were not."

Morena raised a brow.

"Which stories?"

He smiled, not missing a beat.

"That the elder Ravenscroft daughter was strikingly beautiful, if aloof. I see now both are true."

Alina snorted, elbowing him lightly.

"Careful, Cedric. She doesn’t laugh at flattery."

"I don’t need her to laugh," Cedric said easily, his eyes glinting as he turned back to Morena. "Only to listen."

Morena sipped her wine without reply.

Elira broke the tension with a bright tone.

"It’s good you both came this year. Too often, these hunts become the same faces over and over. New voices, new perspectives—it makes the gathering better."

Alina smiled and replied kindly to the girl, holding a friendly tone.

"And more competition."

The group around them grew quickly. Nobles of their age drifted closer—some to catch Cedric’s attention, others curious about the Ravenscroft sisters. A circle formed, voices overlapping in easy chatter.

Cedric played the center well, telling a short story of last year’s hunt—how a stag had nearly gored him before his father’s laugh scared it off. The younger nobles laughed, leaning in. Alina teased him mercilessly, and he volleyed back, flirtatious in tone.

Morena listened more than spoke. When a question was directed her way—what beasts she had hunted, what training she had endured—she answered briefly, enough to be polite but not inviting further. Her dry remarks earned a few chuckles, though, unexpected in their sharpness.

One young noble tried pressing her, smirking as he asked if she planned to place above her sister in the hunt.

Morena tilted her head.

"If I do, it will not be because she was weak. It will be because I was stronger. And if she bests me, it will be deserved. Either way, Ravenscroft wins."

The boy blinked, then nodded quickly, backing off as others murmured approval at the composure in her words.

Alina shot her a look—half surprised, half amused—and Morena only raised her glass slightly, as if to say don’t question it.

The evening carried on that way, nobles drifting in and out, Cedric keeping their circle lively, Elira smoothing edges, Alina bright as ever. Morena stood with them, unwilling but unable to step away, aware that every word, every glance, every silence was being measured.

Soon enough, the evening progressed, the night was young, and the meal soon came.