Little Songbird: Chapter.4

 .: Chapter IV :.

Riliane Kingsley
Ciel Phantomhive

“The Baker's Daughter” pt.2

The carriage announced itself with its onslaught of rhythmic trotting. It tipped and swayed along the uneven path through the countryside, a black shape teetering across the sunset. It made the coachman and the party inside rather uncomfortable.

Riliane had done everything in her own power to convince Wynn that she did not want to attend the Midford's soiree, but all her preciously feigned tears and puppy stares were a waste unless he actually looked at her face, which he refused to do. Instead he convinced her to accompany him at the mention of Ciel Phantomhive. She reluctantly agreed, seeing it as a chance to remake her first impression.

The dispute she and Ciel had had lead to an interesting brawl between their butlers. Long story short; Riliane had gotten anxious watching Damian be beaten to a pulp and ran into the fray, right when Sebastian was about to deliver the final blow. The latter ended up piercing her dear friend through the heart regardless, though Damian didn't flinch or even cry out in pain. He firmly took Riliane by the chin and reminded her in a harsh, chastising tone that he could not be put down so easily.

Sebastian was declared the victor after wards and Ciel had triumphantly dismissed her as nothing more than a brat. Yet, she managed to shoot his ego back down to size not long after.

It was the end of her thoughts when the castle-like estate floated into view. She rolled her eyes and sighed as she threw another disdainful look at Wynn.

“You'll like it, Rilly.” He assured her, and smiled as if he hadn't noticed her chilling glare. Damian showed the same aversive behavior as he helped her out of the carriage.

'They're up to something.'

Any ideas or theories on their little secret was tucked away as they ascended the stares. She slipped her hand through Wynn's arm and gave the doorman an enthralling, yet fake, smile. This would be a very tiring night. A room full of aristocratic stuck-ups bragging about their wealth or wellness wasn't exactly her cup of tea. The only fun thing that came out of this was the pretty dress. She and Damian had handpicked and modified the work of art, adding accents of golden lace to the bodice of a once speckless bridal gown. They even made a matching choker, which served more than just the purpose of an accessory.

As it was foreseen, adulation expelled through the first groups that laid eyes on that ensemble. Though, when Wynn excused himself to handle business she made sly escapes out of the few conversations she was invited to. Riliane preferred to pass time at the catering tables.

The Midford's taste for design and decor was definitely outstanding. However, she couldn't say the same for their choice of food. The morsels of exotic meat or fish skewered between steamed vegetables were decent and probably the best thing on the tables in her opinion. What she was really picking at were their choice in sweets and pastries. They were, at best, enough to satisfy dogs. But any critiques she had, such as the mousse being too runny or the cake being too dry, were all her own opinions. Not all bakers could graze the height of her standards, and she has eaten and made some of best.

Even after quite a bit of time, Riliane was still at the table sampling every bit of colourful pastry. She targeted a delicately iced cookie, but it was quickly stolen right as she reached for it. The culprit was easily and immediately identified by the bright blue gem on his hand.

“Ciel, it's such a pleasure to see you.”

He chewed slowly, savoring the disappointment on her face. “I didn't expect your attendance.”

“Neither did I,” she dead-panned.

“I see Damian is doing well.” His eye quickly darted to the man standing guard behind her, a reigning smile creasing his lips.

Riliane could sense the smugness in his tones, but such taunting did not get to her. They may have left his manor in defeat, but Riliane made sure that he felt no victory when they departed. “Of course he is, but you weren't looking so well when we left.”

The face he suddenly had was nothing short of a vicious death glare. “What did you mean the other day?”

She thought about offering him a dissatisfying riddle, but waved the idea away when a brightly-clothed blonde draped her arms along his shoulders.

“Ci~eell!”

“L-Lizzy. I was speaking with someone.”

“But I'm soo~ happy to see you! Introduce me to your friend!”

“...This...is Elizabeth Midford, my fiancée.” The last word rolled off Ciel's tongue awkwardly, like he'd just gotten used to expressing it. “Elizabeth, this is Riliane Kingsley.”

The way Elizabeth's stare gorged on her didn't make Riliane any more comfortable. There was always something about the way nobles stared that was unsettling. If you were beautiful or handsome, rich or famous, or had an attractive spouse, then there would be genuine praise and that would be the only thing that was genuine. The longer they stared the more likely they would end up prying for a fabricated flaw or a more brilliant idea to attain radiance. It was like nobles were trying to out-do each other no matter how shallow the competition. Perhaps that was what nobility was all about; a hollow pursuit of perfection.

Nobles always wore masks, drenching whatever is left of their true-self in diamond paint for the sake of face. She has gotten so used to this game that she's adapted to be a skilled player herself. However, she found all of the falsehoods mundane and quite tiresome, which is why she barely attended any parties last year.

“Oh, so you were the belle of the ball last spring!”

Wynn had told her before that she had made quite the impression on the other nobles. Apparently talk of her blew through the ton like wind until it died in the shadows of other festivites.

“Your dress is so lovely. Please, just call me Lizzy!”

“It's a pleasure to be of your acquaintance, Lizzy.” Riliane smiled coyly beneath her watchful eyes. “Your mansion is beautiful and your parents have thrown such a delightful party.”

“Oh, don't mention it! It's so nice to meet you!” Elizabeth didn't seem like she ran with the usual mob of aristocracy, but as important first impressions were they weren't always accurate.

Riliane found her chirpy nature refreshing, but the overly intimate attitude was a bit too much. She couldn't picture Ciel being wed to such an enthusiastic girl nor had she expected him to even agree to it. It was too soon to judge, but there seemed to be so little romance between them. That was a recurring aspect of arranged marriages, and perhaps that was the case.

“I'm gad I don't come off as unapproachable.”

“Nonsense! Shy girls are always cute, too!”

“Thank you, Lizzy. It's an honor to meet the future Countess Phantomhive, but would you mind allowing me to speak to your fiance in private?”

It was almost shocking how fast her expression dropped. Elizabeth hesitated, but she agreed when Ciel assured her it was purely business. She then pointed the both of them toward the unoccupied balcony. Damian tagged along to chaperone, staying in skilled butler mode as he blended into the background. It was then that Riliane noticed that Sebastian was no where to be seen.

The crisp, evening air hit all three of them like the first drops of spring rain. It was such a relieving transition from a room of deharmonized voices and body heat. Riliane was the first to retreat to the stone ledge, looking over the the vast area of life touched by the dark. There was a patch at the center where, when it wasn't laddened with night, must have been a brilliant bed of pink or red-violet. She could recognize the perfume of lilacs and hydrangeas, snap-dragons and buttercups. The garden must have held a handsome amount of variety. She couldn't spot it anywhere, but she could hear the sound of running water in the distance.

The peace was interrupted by the sound of wrought iron scraping against concrete. She turned around to see Ciel seating himself at a table, in one of its many matching chairs. A lit candle rested between them, acting as a mediator of light.

“You seat yourself before helping to seat a lady?”

“Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot my manners.”

She rolled her eyes, and in spite of the crippling weight of the fabric she chose to remain standing. The chorus of night filled in the silence, nothing occurring other than a stare-down for several long moments.

Ciel forfeited the mini-competition in favor of getting to the point. “I want to know just who you are. Who you really are, and what exactly you meant the other day.”

“To be honest, that just slipped out because I was a bit upset. I was unsure if it had something to do with you.”

“What had something to do with me?”

Her eyes shifted to the transparent panes of the door, which made the view into the lighted ballroom clear. Despite the lack of light in their own setting it must have been as equally effortless to see from the other side.

“I would like to meet with you in private some time, then. But I'm through talking to the middle man. When will I actually get to speak to your brother?”

Riliane blinked, a bit speechless, but quickly pieced together Ciel's misconception.

“Middle man?” She laughed so gleefully that it almost sounded demented. “You think I'm the middle man?”

The candle-light flinched at windless movement and Sebastian was at Ciel's side as quick as it flickered back into place.

“Ciel, you're horribly mistaken.”

She watched in delight as the realization hit him.

- - -

It shouldn't be a surprise that someone his age could be capable of the job, yet Ciel was so distraught to find that it would be Riliane herself going at him toe-to-toe.

“....You're the second watchdog?”

It should have been obvious to him the moment she stepped out of that carriage. Sure, even the queen herself was mistaken, but this little fallacy made Ciel feel like he's been one step behind the entire time.

“Don't worry, you've just missed a commonly overlooked detail.”

“...”

She let out a small, satisfied sigh that extinguished all the certainty he had. “My family's a bit different from yours. You see, it's the man's job to hold the air of normality while the woman takes the reins as the real head of the household.”

Ciel scoffed and Riliane rolled her eyes, turning away to look back into the distant gardens.

“The Kingsleys,” she continued ,”have been here to do the crown's bidding since the very beginning. We were once held in high regards just like you, but we were never as blindly loyal and so over generations we were demoted...but with me, that's been changed and soon everything else will follow.”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because that is the most I have to convince you that I want a fair and honest game.”

“And how does telling me this make things fair?

She glanced at him from the side, and Ciel couldn't help but feel like she's been dissecting him with that gaze of hers. “I've started off knowing more about you than you do me. Why not make it even?”

His eyes narrowed. Riliane knew, and was definitely far more than she let on. “Even? If you want to make things even then tell me; are you really Heinz Kingsley's daughter?”

“No, but I am a Kingsley.”

“Enough with your damned riddles!” This woman was infuriating. Not only that, but she had no right to be where she stood, nor did she deserve to have so many cards played in her favor. 'What a cleverly disguised pigeon in a flock of doves.'

“I want a straight forward explanation. Who exactly are you?”

“I've given you the pieces, put them together yourself.”

“You are the type of woman who makes enemies.”

Her face was placid and cold. “No. I'm just willing to do more than idle behind a man's wealth. It's because I'm a woman that you find me so threatening to your pride.”

If looks could kill, then Ciel's gaze would have made her drop dead right then and there. 'Damn it.' He had towers of mysteries piled high on his desk! He didn't need another!

Any possibility of further questioning was finished; Riliane and Damian had begun taking their leave.

“Excuse me, “ this time it was Sebastian who called out, making the two stop in their tracks. “I am curious, my lady. You are not the contractor, but a demon needs absolute word from their master. How exactly do you and Damian intend to work?”

Riliane didn't speak, she didn't even turn to acknowledge the question.

“Wynn gave me the order to treat her every word as if it were his.” Damian answered, looking over his shoulder to give them a vicious smirk.

'What a rotten child', Ciel thought bitterly.

“Damian.”

“Yes, Princess~?”

“Be quiet.”

The order sounded more somber than domineering and for a brief moment, right before she floated back into the ballroom, he saw something carved into the skin of her neck. It was only a partial view, the rest of the scar hidden under her choker and a curtain of black, but it was enough that it settled into a permanent place in his mind.

“Interesting girl, young master.”

“Shut up.” Ciel sunk deep into his thoughts, 'putting the pieces together'. Who was she? How did she end up under Earl Kingsley's name? And of her brother? If that was even her brother to begin with.

- - -

Riliane didn't appreciate Ciel's prying attitude, but she understood his curiosity. He was the type of person who relished in being steps ahead of the other player; being in the dark or having the advantage stolen from him blew holes through his ego. It also, admittedly, wasn't a very fair start for him either. But she rather liked having the upper hand herself, so she wouldn't relinquish anything to him so easily. At least not until he's being more polite.

Besides, she preferred keeping the topic off that man.

“You are the type of woman than makes enemies.”

That was typical behaviour for noblemen, especially since he's a Phantomhive. They've prided themselves on their connection to the throne for far too long, and Ciel was nothing above a spoiled brat. It was high time that he learned some humility.

After downsizing that ego of his for the second time that week, she and Damian began to exit until Sebastian dared to bring up the subject of Wynn's contract.

“Wynn gave me the order to treat her every word as if it were his.”

Everything was handed to her. The people she loved gave her everything, protected her from everything, and did everything for her. And then they died.

“Damian.”

“Yes, Princess?” At times like these, she absolutely hated that endearment.

“Be quiet.”

Her steps back into the ballroom were hasty, but she needed to keep herself from dipping into the past any further. The last thing she needed were for old flames to reignite.

Oh how merciless was the evening on her.

She was swept up before she could breath in the warm air, seeing nothing but a blur of variant colours as she was whirled around. She caught glimpses of other indistinct figures moving in harmony with her before she was spun around again to meet a face—one she thought she would never see again.

“Grey!?”

“Ah, you remember me~”