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Growing up at Ambridge as the youngest daughter of the Meidlande’s, trading family extraordinaire, meant that Sylphia had no lack of privileges while growing up. Her wardrobe was always filled with the latest fashions in luxurious fabrics, her room tastefully and comfortably appointed. She had no lack of tutors, and had a very good education for a female of her class. She could play five different instruments, knew all the classic ballroom dances as well as several folk dances, and was renowned for her sweet singing voice. She could arrange a dinner party for foreign dignitaries and hold intelligent conversations with them by the time she was 12. Sylphia was celebrated as a young beauty, an ideal hostess and the perfect obedient daughter – all before her 16th birthday.
The Rose of Ambridge, as she was called, was currently at a little soiree –
‘little’ meaning that less than 100 people had been invited, mingling in the
grand ballroom of the Phoenix Hotel. Music played in the background, an elegant
arrangement of strings meant to induce listeners into waltzing on the polished
marble dance floor.
Sylphia, however, felt no desire to dance, despite the lovely music. In fact, she had no real desire to be here at all, even if the party was being thrown by one of her supposedly dearest friends. But, her parents had been adamant that she keep her social appointments. So, she stood to the side and sipped from a goblet of wine, wondering how much time she could let pass before it was polite to make her goodbyes.
It wasn’t that it was a bad event. The lighting was bright enough to illuminate, dim enough to cast flattering shadows. The decorations were bold but tasteful, the food and drink exquisite. Outside, it was a clear night with a full moon, a romantic setting for clandestine trysts and the like. The entire upper crust of Ambridge society was here, dressed in their most dazzling finery. Sylphia might doubt the strength and sincerity of Liselle Cartwright’s friendship, but she certainly couldn’t doubt her skill at throwing a party. Sylphia herself could not have done better – and that was probably the point. For all their friendship was touted, it was mostly a façade for a not-so-friendly rivalry.
As if sensing her thoughts, a striking brunette appeared in front of her, her glossy lips curved in a smile that was only another woman could see as predatory. Liselle Cartwright, the self-appointed Lily of Ambridge, resplendent in a low-cut burgundy silk gown. Liselle loved to flaunt her ample décolleté, probably because Sylphia was more lacking in that area. Then again, perhaps it was her jealousy speaking.
“Sylphia, dear. Enjoying the party?” Liselle cooed, putting her hand
companionably on Sylphia’s arm. “I must admit, the peacocks make a nice touch
don’t you think?” She gestured languidly towards the strutting birds, their
plumage colorful and eye-catching. “It’s a shame you couldn’t get them for your own
little get-together.”
Sylphia hoped fervently that the birds would get avian diarrhea and leave nice little presents all over the floor. “Well, we thought they would be a little too flashy,” she responded, just as sweetly. “Although, they seem to suit you quite well,” she added, her gray eyes wide with innocence.
Liselle’s smile was a tad sharper.
“How sweet of you to say so. By the way, there’s someone who I just have
to introduce you to.” She turned her dark head and crooked a finger, and almost
immediately a tall figure detached himself from a group and started towards
them. Like a trained dog, Sylphia thought. Liselle had that effect on men.
The young man that bowed lavishly to them was no one Sylphia had seen before. He was pleasantly handsome, with carefully coiffed brown hair and blue eyes. His garments, well-tailored and embellished with plenty of embroidery, signaled that he was of high class and had money to burn. Sylphia and Liselle responded to his bow with curtseys, although Sylphia was rather puzzled. Being good-looking and rich, he must be a prime catch – and Liselle was known for keeping desirable men all to herself, not for introducing them to her rivals.
“Sylphia, I know you’ll be pleased to meet… Javren Coulter.” Liselle had the brief pleasure of seeing the other girl’s eyes widen in shock, although Sylphia’s expression remained calm and serene. It was a rare thing to get any sort of untoward reaction from Sylphia, and Liselle considered it a personal triumph. “I knew I just had to introduce him to you, when I heard the news. Javren is such a sweetheart…” Liselle trailed a cozy hand on his shoulder. “I know you two will just be so happy together. Congratulations, to both of you… And perhaps I’ll leave you two alone together, and get more … intimately acquainted, shall we say?” With another insincere smile on her lips, Liselle left Sylphia standing awkwardly next to her fiancé.
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