~**(Third Person)**~
The balcony overlooked the back gardens, veiled in a wash of soft golden light from the setting sun.
Margareth sat there, upright and still, a porcelain cup of flower tea nestled between her palms. Steam curled from its surface, but she didn’t sip.
Her gaze was distant, unfocused—like it had wandered somewhere too far to call back.
She didn’t hear the sliding door open behind her.
Didn’t notice her daughters until they were nearly at her side.
Monique raised a brow and glanced at Mabel.
"She’s lost again," Mabel whispered, folding her arms.
Monique stepped forward and reached out, tapping their mother’s shoulder.
Margareth jolted faintly. Her eyes flicked to them as she slowly placed her tea down on the side table. "When did you girls get here?"
"Just now," Monique said, lowering herself into one of the wicker chairs beside her. "You were staring into the wind again."
Mabel dropped into the other seat and crossed her legs. "Is it Meredith again?"
Margareth didn’t answer immediately. Her expression softened slightly, lips pursing. Then she nodded. "Yes."
Mabel scoffed.
"Mother, why on earth are you thinking about that disgraceful little brat," she said, "when you could use that brain to match-make me with the finest Alpha left in Stormveil? I’m not getting any younger."
"She’s still my daughter," Margareth said quietly. "She is my last child. I raised her in my womb... fed her. I am bound to worry, especially now that she’s far off in that human city."
Monique’s mouth twitched into something between a smirk and a frown. "Since when do you care so much about that cursed girl? Don’t let father find out."
"Don’t you worry for her?" Margareth asked, her gaze drifting from one daughter to the other, ignoring the past about not letting her husband find out about her concern.
Monique rolled her eyes.
Mabel laughed. "Worry? About Meredith?"
Monique leaned forward. "If she died outside these walls, it would save father the effort of killing her himself if she ever dared step back into Moonstone."
"But it wouldn’t be good if the humans did it," Mabel added, tapping her nails against the chair arm. "Not good for us. Not good for our people."
Monique gave a thoughtful nod. "True. Better if one of us handled it. Cleaner that way."
Mabel turned toward her sister. "Honestly, I’m surprised we haven’t heard any strange news about her. I thought she had be dead by now."
Monique chuckled. "Seems like she’s behaving herself for once. There are people to discipline her over there, after all."
Mabel shook her head. "As long as Wanda’s there, Meredith will never have peace. That woman will give her hell."
Monique gave a short laugh. "It’s only a matter of time. Wanda’s not patient. She will probably poison Meredith eventually, or find another means to get rid of her."
Their laughter filled the air.
Margareth exhaled, long and weary. She looked at them both, her expression unreadable.
"Are you two trying to anger me to death?" she muttered.
Before either of them could respond, footsteps sounded behind them.
"They are talking nonsense again?" he asked, half-smiling.
Margareth eyed Monique from over her cup. "When are you going back to your husband and children?"
Monique’s face soured immediately. "I like it here. I’m taking a break."
Gary poured himself another cup—then another. By the fifth, he leaned back and exhaled.
"Honestly," he said, "the only way Meredith will survive all this is if she gives birth to Draven’s child."
Monique let out a loud laugh. "You must be delusional. You think a man like Alpha Draven would bed her?"
Gary shrugged. "Men don’t always think when it comes to bedding a woman. Especially in close quarters, and when their needs arise."
Mabel frowned. "Don’t be faster than your shadows, brother. Draven is the most disciplined Alpha in our race. Have you ever heard about him messing with anyone? Not even Wanda, and she is always glued to him."
Gary raised a brow. "He might have been with her. Otherwise, why is she still clinging?"
Monique shook her head. "If he had touched Wanda, she would be shouting it from the rooftops. She is desperate. She would have forced a wedding by now."
Gary smirked. "So, you’re telling me Wanda wouldn’t agree to be a kept woman? Even if it was temporary?"
Margareth, who had been quietly sipping her tea, finally spoke.
"Wanda is ambitious," she said simply. "And Draven knows that. He won’t give her that kind of power. He’s smart. Even if he considered her as a mistress, it wouldn’t last. Not with how quickly she would demand more. Besides, he probably only sees her as a friend."
The siblings fell silent.
Only the clinking of the porcelain echoed across the stone balcony, as Margareth took another slow sip, her gaze once more turning toward the fading horizon.
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