Chapter 139: Southern States

Blanche eventually had to quicken her pace to catch up with Fenrir, who walked as though he had known the way all his life.

They left the main avenue and turned into a narrow cul-de-sac lined with perfectly trimmed hedges.

And there...

She almost came to a complete stop.

The mansion standing at the very end of the lane eclipsed every other house.

Larger.

Brighter.

More... everything.

It seemed to have been designed to welcome rather than to dominate.

Its cream-white façade, delicately warmed by the last rays of the setting sun, was punctuated by grand arched windows framed in pale stone, each carved with remarkably intricate floral motifs. Wide wrought-iron balconies, their graceful curves reminiscent of climbing vines, overflowed with flower boxes bursting with hundreds of pastel blossoms.

The gray slate roof was dotted with elegant dormer windows, while an ancient wisteria climbed freely across part of the façade, draping the walls in a fragrant veil of soft purple blooms.

A natural stone pathway wound toward the front steps through a garden worthy of an Impressionist painting.

Peonies, hydrangeas, heirloom roses, lavender, and lilies blended together in perfect harmony, never appearing rigidly arranged. Every flower bed looked as though it had grown exactly where nature herself had intended.

At the center stood a small white marble fountain depicting three young women supporting a broad basin from which crystal-clear water flowed. Its gentle murmur mingled with the songs of birds nesting in the century-old trees that shielded the property from curious eyes.

There was something profoundly feminine about the house.

Not a fragile femininity.

An elegant one.

Warm.

Delicate without ever being precious.

Every detail seemed to invite visitors inside, encouraging them to leave their worries at the doorstep and embrace the gentleness within. Despite the obvious wealth on display, nothing about it felt intimidating. On the contrary, the villa immediately gave the impression of being truly lived in, inhabited by someone who genuinely loved welcoming others, caring for them, and transforming a mere residence into a real home.

A smile spread across Blanche's face despite herself.

She liked this place.

A thin, balding man emerged to greet them, dressed in a suit Blanche recognized instantly.

The same one Cassian wore.

So this was where he'd gotten it?

"Master," he said with a respectful bow before catching sight of the redhead.

His reaction was so abrupt that Blanche instinctively stepped backward.

The elderly man burst into tears, bowing again and again.

"Clearly Jeff likes you more than he likes me," Fenrir remarked dryly.

Jeff had already begun repeating, "Mistress... Mistress..." over and over.

His devotion was nothing short of astonishing.

Blanche followed the god inside, trailed by the butler, who was already ordering strong tea and biscuits—

Her favorite kind, of course.

She sighed and shook her head.

Inside, the residence no longer resembled a mere villa.

Blanche genuinely felt as though she had stepped into an ancient palace.

The architecture evoked the grandest Roman villas: towering ivory marble colonnades supported open galleries, while impossibly high ceilings were adorned with intricately carved coffers featuring acanthus leaves, grape clusters, and floral motifs. The floors, covered in vast mosaics of cream, gold, and terracotta, depicted scenes from mythology, their thousands of tiny tesserae seeming almost alive beneath the glow of the lanterns.

Very little of the night's darkness reached this place.

Dozens of bronze braziers, hanging lanterns, and oil lamps tucked beneath the arcades cast a warm amber light that wrapped every stone in an almost unreal glow. Their flames danced lazily in the night breeze, causing the shadows of the columns to ripple across the polished marble.

The air was cooler than outside, filled with the constant song of a fountain and a rich floral fragrance so abundant it bordered on intoxicating.

At the heart of the residence stretched a vast open-air courtyard garden.

Above them, stars glittered between the colonnades as though they were part of the architecture itself. High overhead, the moon bathed the flower beds in silvery light that mingled with the lantern glow, giving the garden an almost dreamlike atmosphere.

The vegetation seemed even more beautiful beneath the night sky.

Ancient rose bushes climbed freely around the stone columns, their white blossoms appearing almost luminous beneath the moonlight. Jasmine perfumed the entire courtyard with its delicate fragrance, while night-blooming flowers, finally fully open, released their sweet scents with almost overwhelming generosity.

Several lemon and orange trees stood in dark silhouette against the pale walls, their glossy leaves catching the golden reflections of the flames.

At the center of the garden sang an elegant white marble fountain.

Water flowed peacefully from one basin into the next before collecting in a dark reflecting pool where the moon itself seemed to float upon the surface. The lanterns mirrored in the water gave the illusion that a shower of stars had settled at the bottom of the pool.

A few yards away, beneath a pergola entirely covered in cascading wisteria blossoms that formed a delicate canopy overhead, stood a tall wrought-iron table forming the centerpiece of a cozy outdoor sitting area. The ornate metalwork looked hand-forged, weaving together flowers and curling vines with remarkable craftsmanship. Matching chairs, cushioned in ivory fabric, surrounded the table, naturally inviting long conversations beneath the stars.

Nearby stood an old-fashioned streetlamp identical to those lining the avenue outside. Its little hexagonal lantern cast a warm golden light over the entire patio, bathing it in an atmosphere that felt timelessly romantic.

Everything breathed gentleness.

Peace.

As though the house had chosen to embrace the night instead of keeping it at bay.

And yet, that serenity contrasted sharply with the looks Blanche received.

Numerous maidservants moved gracefully through the flower-lined paths, carrying silver trays, freshly gathered bouquets, or crystal decanters. They were all human, most of them young, dressed in flowing garments inspired by ancient tunics, their elegant drapery leaving their shoulders and arms bare.

Beneath the flickering firelight, they glided silently among the flower beds with the effortless grace born of long practice, each performing her duties with almost choreographed precision.

But the moment they noticed Blanche...

The conversations died.

Several women discreetly came to a halt.

Others followed her every step without the slightest attempt at subtlety.

None of them bothered to hide the hostility hardening their features.

It wasn't mere curiosity.

Nor simple suspicion.

It was deliberate coldness.

Almost possessive.

As though this stranger had entered a sanctuary that, in their eyes, she had no right to tread upon.

"Please forgive them, Mistress," Jeff said quietly. "They don't know who you are."

Blanche nodded silently, still too busy taking in every corner of the estate, while Fenrir settled with complete ease at the small round table beneath the pergola, as though he had always belonged there.

Jeff pulled out one of the tall chairs with a courteous smile.

The simple gesture carried an elegance that felt almost old-fashioned.

Blanche immediately understood the invitation and took her seat, thanking him with a small nod before letting her gaze wander around the estate once more.

The house was even more impressive from within.

Or rather...

It breathed.