The Kingdom of Versimoil-Chapter 61: The West Tower’s Eye

For a fleeting moment after Atticus left, silence pressed close around her. The soft hum of the courtyard below faded, leaving only the faint rustle of silk and the rhythmic click of Lady Cassia’s heels approaching.

"Come," Cassia said gently, gesturing toward the low table at the center where the silver trays waited.

Anneliese lingered near the railing for a moment, the terrace wind tugging lightly at the hem of her dress, before finally moving toward the seating.

Cassia’s voice was smooth, controlled, yet filled with command. "Sit. We will not accomplish much standing and staring at the courtyard like idle birds."

Anneliese hesitated only a moment before lowering herself onto the highly cushioned couch. Her hand rested on the polished arm, cool beneath her fingers. The glasses of dark red and orange liquid and the delicate pastries seemed almost ceremonial, a prelude to something heavier.

Cassia followed, settling to her right with deliberate grace, hands folded neatly atop the armrest of her chair. The faint embroidery on her gown caught the daylight, gilding her muted gold into something fierce, almost radiant—as if the light itself took its cue from her presence in the west tower.

For a heartbeat, the terrace held only the faint clinking of silver as Cassia adjusted the tray slightly toward her. Then, without taking her eyes from Anneliese, she spoke.

"I am glad to hear you are spending time with Elowyn," she said, her smile gentle—but only at first glance. Beneath it, a sharp edge glinted faintly, like a blade hidden beneath lace. "Her wisdom is rare, though she tends to choose her company carefully. Tell me, how did you come to capture her attention?"

The weight of her summoning pressed closer as the conversation began. Anneliese folded her hands in her lap, her pulse stuttering at the directness of the question.

When the servant had come to fetch her for Cassia’s summons, Elowyn’s parting words had been edged with rare severity. "Do not let her glimpse your weakness—not even for a heartbeat. Cassia will sense the scent of fear before you even realize you are showing it. Guard your eyes, your tone, even your silence. Cassia can unmake a person without ever raising her voice. She is someone you need to be cautious of."

The warning had followed her all the way to the West Tower like a whisper she couldn’t shake, echoing through her mind ever since. And now, sitting beside Lady Cassia, she understood—it had not been a warning at all, but a shield of self-preservation.

The weight of Cassia’s scrutiny from her right drew her out of her thoughts, pulling her firmly back into the moment. She pushed down the faint tremor of unease, and when her voice came, it was collected and polite, betraying not even a flicker of doubt or uncertainty. "You are right, Milady. Vincenzo had spoken to me of Lady Elowyn’s wisdom." She paused briefly and smiled which was too polite, too polished, before speaking again. "I did not capture her attention for any particular reason, but merely because of her friendship with Vincenzo and my relationship to him."

Anneliese leaned slightly to pick up the orange juice, a deliberate gesture of normalcy and confidence, meant to mask her earlier distraction and demonstrate her presence of mind in the moment—also signaling to Cassia that she could not be easily intimidated. "I too, Milady, choose my company with care. Lady Elowyn’s guidance holds great value—not only for me, but for the kingdom I will one day serve beside the Crown. Her wisdom, I believe, will guide me toward serving Versimoil as it deserves. Like you must have served for past centuries." Then, almost musically—her tone remained calm and graceful, a deliberate gesture of respect toward the former Queen—she asked, "Wouldn’t you agree, My Lady?"

A diplomatic answer, the thought registered in Cassia’s mind. Her lips curved, though amusement did not reach her eyes. Her gaze lingered on Anneliese for a heartbeat longer than necessary, sharp, assessing.

"Perhaps," she answered slowly, her voice smooth, almost measured. "Though one must always be wary of assuming guidance is given purely as an act of service, rather than as a means of strategizing." Her fingers traced the edge of the armrest absently, as if weighing each syllable before letting it fall.

Anneliese met her gaze steadily, unflinching yet filled with a warmth that never seemed to leave her eyes. "Of course, Milady," she replied, voice calm. "I will be vigilant for the good of the kingdom and for those under the Crown’s care."

A faint tilt of Cassia’s head. "Careful words," she murmured, eyes narrowing slightly. "Yet noble words are often used to veil intentions, are they not? Tell me, Anneliese... how much do you understand of the weight that rests upon those who would serve Versimoil?"

Anneliese considered the question and observed the intention behind it. Her fingers curled lightly around the glass in her hand, yet she did not flinch, nor did she let her heartbeat betray her. She understood one thing: Lady Thornburn was a weapon hidden beneath civility, and this meeting was not mere conversation but a dance of manners hiding true intentions. "I understand, Milady, that service is never without consequence. Every choice echoes upon the crown and its subjects, and every inaction has its price. Although I am still getting used to this side of the world, I assure you, Milady, I will learn to play my role as a Queen as is expected of me."

A faint smile touched Cassia’s lips, sharper this time, like a sword being unsheathed. "Good," she said softly, leaning back just slightly. "You have just been brought into our world, into our ways, and yet... in your determination, I see a resilience most would falter under."

Anneliese’s chest rose lightly, but she said nothing, allowing the silence to stretch between them, measured. She knew better than to rush words here. Cassia’s patience was a test, and she would not fail it with haste.

Anneliese’s voice remained steady, calm, and controlled when it finally came. "I seek what destiny has handed over to me, Milady. To serve wisely beside the Crown, to protect those who cannot protect themselves, and to prepare for the responsibilities I will one day bear." There was truth in her words as they left her lips, Anneliese realized.

Cassia inclined her head, her expression unreadable. "We shall see, child." She deliberately used the word child to convey the hierarchy of experience between them.

In a sudden rush of wind, the terrace seemed to draw in closer, holding the quiet, watchful attention of the two women. In that space, Anneliese understood: this meeting was not mere conversation—it was the opening of a chessboard whose pieces she had yet to fully comprehend.

There was a pause, long enough for the weight of the words to settle before Cassia continued. "There will be guests arriving soon—nobles, scholars, perhaps even those who claim to read futures. The court will shift in ways you have not yet seen. I suggest you watch carefully and speak little. You may learn and hide more that way."

Her gaze lingered on Anneliese for a breath longer before she rose, crossing to the edge of the sitting area where Anneliese had stood moments ago. Parts of her gown shimmered brightly where the direct sunlight caught the fabric—gold, cold, and sharp.

Anneliese rose slowly. She bowed her head politely and turned to leave, but Cassia’s final words followed her to the first step of the staircase—soft but heavy with meaning.

"And Anneliese," Cassia said, her voice carrying like silk drawn across glass, too polished like the floor beneath their feet. "If the castle ever feels as though it’s closing in... you can always come to me. I shall accept you as my daughter; you are my future daughter-in-law, after all." Then she turned back to the castle below, signaling the conversation’s end.

Cassia watched Anneliese as she crossed the marble bridge separating the west wing of the castle from the other parts. Her posture was measured, her movements deliberate, and yet—beneath the polished composure—Cassia sensed it: a quiet tension, a careful restraint. She allowed herself the faintest smile, sharp and calculating. It was rare to find someone capable of such restraint—and rarer still to find someone whose silence was not empty. Perhaps it was the silence she carried—the kind that allowed one to watch, to wait, to strike only when necessary. A silence that could hide storms beneath it.

There was a prey-like patience in Anneliese, a subtle stillness that masked more than it revealed. Most would tremble, falter, or overcompensate under Cassia’s scrutiny. But this one did not. And Cassia was no fool: she knew the girl had been warned about just how carefully she would be read, how every gesture, every tilt of the head, every pause between syllables would be weighed, measured, and stored.

The girl’s composure was a tool, perhaps a shield for something she could not yet name. There was no way Vincenzo had chosen a human girl out of nowhere to be his consort. Perhaps there was something deeper hidden inside her, something dangerous—or something extraordinary—that Cassia had yet to uncover.

She had called Anneliese here not merely to test her words, her manners, or her grasp of duty, but to glimpse the intimation beneath that careful surface. And that, Cassia realized, with a flicker of both caution and intrigue, was the most dangerous kind of power a person could possess.

For now, she would watch. And wait.