Chapter 97: The Sister’s Visit
The soft clink of porcelain and muted conversations filled the elegant café on Valon’s main street. A faint aroma of roasted beans and honeyed bread floated through the air, blending with the warmth of late-morning sun filtering through tall crystal windows. Outside, the city stirred—merchants, students, and carriages moving across cobblestones in a dance of mundane purpose.
Noel sat near the window, dressed in a dark winter coat with silver trim, the collar raised just enough to brush his jawline. A half-finished cup of tea sat in front of him, untouched for the last ten minutes.
His eyes tracked the passersby, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
’The message said at noon. The courier dropped it off yesterday—this place, at this exact hour. Of course, little Noel’s opinion doesn’t matter.’
He glanced at the pocket watch on the table. Noel arrived early, as always.
The café was tastefully decorated—subtle floral arrangements rested in ceramic vases on each table, and fine latticework framed the windows like art. It wasn’t a place he would choose for comfort, but it fit her perfectly: polished, controlled, ornamental.
Then, he saw it.
A navy-blue carriage pulled by four white-bred horses rolled to a stop in front of the entrance. Its crest—House Thorne—glistened on the side in silver relief. It was the kind of display only his family would consider "modest."
’Right on time.’
The door opened. A tall young woman stepped out, cloaked in a flowing winter mantle lined with silver thread. Her dark hair was twisted into a formal updo, and not a strand dared rebel. Every movement she made was precise, rehearsed—like she was always on a stage she never stepped down from.
Livia Thorne.