Evandria could barely stand spending any time inside the place she called home, so she spent most of them in the back garden. The young woman was perched on a crooked swing, the one that her father had promised to fix once they got home from Cellas Isle. She had never really spent much time in the garden before all this. It was her mother’s territory after all, where she would kneel on the ground with mud on the hem of her dresses, planting seeds that sometimes refused to grow. It was hot even with the sun getting shrouded by the clouds, but the girl stubbornly stayed.
It was preferable than the constant reminder that her house was now a puzzle that would never be finished. There were missing pieces that she could never retrieve again. The sun was going to set soon and if this was an ordinary day, her front door would open to reveal her father. Lutver Sericks would call out to his wife and daughter before whining about what a tiring day he had and how infuriating Secretary Hallidal was.
Today, it was an old woman who set the table. One plate, one spoon, one fork, one knife. A table for one. Evandria had refused to eat in the dining room for weeks, yet the servants still set it up like so. As if they were keen to remind her that she was all alone now.
“A delivery for you, Miss Sericks.”
It was only then that Evandria realized she had been staring at a rose bush for quite a while now. Her head snapped up as she regarded the unfamiliar guard coolly. “What is it?” Do not show weakness. It was what her parents taught her. She would like to say that she had honored their wishes. The young woman hadn’t let anyone see her cry. Not in front of those officers who told her the news, not during their funeral.
The man’s eyes softened slightly. “It is addressed for your father, miss.”
Her breath hitched. Her heart stilled. “Send it in.”