Twelve years ago, when Priscilla was just a five-year-old girl, life seemed like a warm and simple dream. Days passed between carefree games and the unconditional love of her parents. That afternoon in the park, the sun filtered through the leaves of the trees, casting dancing shadows on the grass. The little girl ran among the flowers, letting out a clear, infectious laugh as she picked small daisies to form a crown.

  Her parents, sitting on a spread out blanket, watched her with a mixture of pride and melancholy. It was impossible not to smile when they saw her so happy, but in the depths of their hearts they knew that the time they shared with her was about to end for a long time. They were explorers, adventurers driven by curiosity and the desire to discover the unknown. The next expedition would take them far away, crossing oceans in search of knowledge and wonders the world had not yet revealed. But this voyage was not like the previous ones. It was longer, more uncertain, and above all, too dangerous for a girl so young.

  Priscilla, unaware of the magnitude of what was about to happen, picked her flowers with devotion. She didn't understand why her parents insisted on holding her hand and spending these last moments with her, as if time was slipping through their fingers. But when the breeze shifted and her mother called her to sit beside them, the tone of her voice made her stop.

  — My little star. — her father said as he took her into his lap. — Mommy and I are going on a very long journey. We are going to sail the ocean to discover new places and learn things we don't know yet. Do you remember the stories we used to tell you? Well, now we are going to look for more stories for you.

  Priscilla cocked her head in confusion. — What about me? Am I coming with you? — she asked with the innocence that only a small child can have, hoping for an affirmative answer.

  Her mother's smile faltered slightly, though her tone remained calm. — No, my dear. You can't come this time. It's an adult trip, and we don't want anything to happen to you. But while we're away, Grandma will take care of you. She loves you very much and will tell you all the stories we used to tell you.

  Priscilla's almond-shaped eyes began to fill with tears. A sense of loss she did not yet understand began to grow in her small chest. Her lower lip trembled, and before she could control herself, she began to cry. — But I don't want you to go! I want to be with you!

  Her father held her close, resting his chin on her little head, while her mother stroked her hair, black as night. — You are very brave, Priscilla. We'll be back soon, and when we do, we'll bring you so many stories and presents you'll get tired of hearing and opening. — her father tried to calm her, but the girl only cried harder, clinging to them as if letting go would make them disappear forever.

  The moment of parting came too quickly. They walked toward the harbor, the girl holding her grandmother's hand, while her parents carried trunks full of provisions and maps. The ship waiting for them was huge, with tall sails flapping in the wind, and at another time Priscilla would have been fascinated by it. But now she saw it only as the enemy that would take her parents away from her.

  On the dock, her mother bent down to hug her again. — Be strong, my star. We promise we'll be back. — she whispered, her voice breaking for the first time.

  Her father kissed her on the forehead, and with one last look full of love, they boarded the ship.

  Of love, they both boarded the ship. Priscilla watched them go, and the image of them on the deck, waving their hands, was forever etched in her memory.

  — Mom! Dad! Don't go! — she screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to reach them with her voice.

  Grandma held her tightly as tears flowed uncontrollably. The sea breeze blew hard, ruffling her hair and carrying away the echo of her screams. Priscilla did not stop crying until the ship disappeared completely on the horizon, and even then, a feeling of emptiness settled in her heart.

  She didn't know it then, but that would be the last time she would see her parents. The ship that took them to explore the mysteries of the world also took away some of Priscilla's innocence. They never returned, and the girl who stood crying on the dock learned all too soon what loss meant. That goodbye at the docks marked the beginning of a new life, one in which she would have to learn to be strong even when everything around her seemed to be falling apart.

  Priscilla was abruptly jolted from her thoughts when she heard the door to her room open gently, revealing one of the maids. Her mind still wandered between memories of the harbor and the present, but she didn't want anyone to see her vulnerable. She quickly wiped away the small tear running down her cheek and composed herself.

  —My lady, your grandmother has asked that you get ready. The poppy tea will be served in a few hours. — the maid announced with a respectful bow.

  Priscilla nodded silently and rose from the divan where she had taken refuge to reminisce about the past. Her heart still felt a little heavy, but she knew she had no time for regrets. The poppy tea, she thought as she straightened in front of the mirror. This annual event was not just a simple social gathering; for many, it was a tradition deeply rooted in courtly customs. Young ladies and gentlemen from all over the region would gather for an afternoon of tea, laughter, and, of course, the first steps toward future engagements.

  The idea of courting in advance had always seemed a bit ridiculous to Priscilla. “What was the point of choosing someone so early on, as if people were just options in a shop window?” But she knew she couldn't avoid participating. It was part of her duty as a princess, as her grandmother always reminded her in gentle but firm words.

  As the maids laid out the dresses on her bed, Priscilla looked critically at her options. All the gowns were decorated with floral details and soft tones, in keeping with the theme of the event. She finally chose one in a pale cream color with gold thread embroidery imitating poppy petals. Her skirt moved like a cloud with each step, and the long, sheer sleeves gave her an ethereal air. She accessorized the outfit with a flower-shaped brooch that had belonged to her mother, a touch that gave her strength every time she wore it.

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  — You look beautiful, my lady. — one of the maids said as she fastened the brooch to her chest.

  Priscilla smiled slightly, acknowledging the compliment without really feeling it. Her mind was already on the tea, anticipating the inevitable pressure of stares, the carefully chosen words of others, and the expectation that she would be kind, elegant, and open to the idea of courtship. It was exhausting just to think about it.

  When everything was ready, she left her room, accompanied by the maids, who escorted her to the great hall where her grandmother awaited her departure. The carriage was ready, and Priscilla, with the bearing expected of a princess, entered the carriage with the queen.

  — I hope you are ready for today, my dear. The poppy tea is more than a social event. It is an opportunity. — the queen said in her characteristic tone, a mixture of wisdom and expectation.

  Priscilla simply nodded. She knew that arguing with her grandmother was out of the question, especially since she was a firm believer in tradition. As the carriage pulled away, the young princess looked out the window and watched the autumn leaves blowing in the wind. She wondered if Maximo would be there. Would she see him among the gentlemen, with his impeccable manners and calm smile? And if she did, would she have the courage to approach him this time?

  The weight of expectation hung over her like a constant shadow, but deep in her heart a small ray of hope shone. Maybe, just maybe, this poppy tea would be more than a routine event. Maybe it would be the beginning of something even she could not foresee.

  Meanwhile, at the Valois residence, Maximo found himself locked in his office, his gaze fixed on a set of papers scattered across the desk. He was going over the family accounts, a task he shared with his father that, while tedious, kept him occupied. His mind had been wandering for days now, and this work, though monotonous, offered him a respite from his more personal thoughts.

  The sound of the door opening broke his concentration. It was his mother, with her elegant but firm gait, who entered without warning. — Maximo, darling, it's time to get ready. The poppy tea will start soon. — she said with a slight smile as she folded her arms in front of him.

  Maximo looked up from his papers and sighed. — I'll be right down, Mother. I'll just finish this. — he replied, trying to sound casual. But his tone, though polite, had a hint of evasion that did not go unnoticed.

  His mother approached and placed a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. — Are you all right, dear?” she asked, her voice tinged with genuine concern. Maximo paused for a moment, taken aback by the question. The truth was, he didn't know how to answer it. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. There was a latent uncertainty in his chest that he couldn't quite understand, an accumulation of unnamed emotions that made him restless.

  — Yes, Mother. — he finally replied, smiling slightly. It wasn't entirely sincere, but it was convincing enough. His mother, though not entirely convinced, decided not to insist.

  — Very well. Then don't be late. And make sure you look immaculate. — she reminded him, before leaving the room with the same grace with which she had entered.

  As the door closed, Maximo let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair. His eyes lingered on the ceiling for a moment before something made him stand. He walked over to a small desk by the window and opened a drawer. Inside was a floral brooch, simple but delicate, with a design that evoked the freshness of a garden in spring. He had bought it weeks ago for no apparent reason. Now that he saw it, a silly smile formed on his face, as if this small object held a secret that only he knew.

  He held it between his fingers for a few seconds, turning it to appreciate the details. Finally, he carefully put it back in the drawer and closed it. He stood there, motionless, with a pensive expression on his face. After a moment, she shook her head slightly, as if trying to clear her thoughts, and went to the dressing room.

  An event like this cannot be avoided, she thought as she chose her outfit. Although she did not like social gatherings, she knew that her presence was expected. And even if she didn't admit it out loud, there was one person who maybe, just maybe, made the idea of attending not so bad.

  While Priscilla and Maximo debated inwardly about their feelings and the secrets they held in their hearts, Miss Selene Akvis had very clear plans and a confidence that went beyond the limits of discretion. In front of a large full-length mirror in her luxurious room, she carefully adjusted a cherry-red gown that, while completely outside the dress code for the Poppy Tea, perfectly captured its essence: bold, provocative, and always determined to be the center of attention.

  The dress, made of a soft but firm fabric, hugged every curve of her figure, and a plunging neckline further emphasized her intention not to go unnoticed. The Akvises had never been a family to submit to social norms, and Selene was the spitting image of that defiant attitude. With a smile that wavered between flirtatiousness and malice, she began to simulate conversations in front of the mirror, mimicking Maximo' responses as if he had already succumbed to her charms.

  immaculate Oh, Maximo, how kind of you to say so. — she murmured, feigning a gentle laugh and tilting her head slightly to emphasize her neck. — Do you really think I'm the most fascinating woman in this room? Well, how could I not be?

  Satisfied with her reflection and the dialogues she imagined, Selene took a small perfume bottle from her dressing table and sprayed a floral scent with notes of musk on her neck and wrists. Her jewelry, delicate but strategically placed, sparkled in the light of the chandeliers in her room.

  She walked down the stairs with firm steps, her heels echoing on the marble as her mother watched her from the living room with a slight smile of approval.

  — This dress will cause quite a stir, my dear. — her mother said with an air of satisfaction. — But the Akvis are no cowards.

  Selene smiled broadly and tucked a strand of her perfectly braided hair to one side. — We have never been, Mother. And today, more than ever, I don't intend to be.

  Moments later, she climbed into her carriage, eager to get to the event. During the ride, she drummed her fingers on her lap, unable to contain her excitement. Her mind was on one thing: Maximo. This young man who, though he seemed to elude her, would not be able to resist her for long. The dress, the bearing, the carefully calculated words; everything was designed for a single purpose.

  As the carriage moved forward, Selene looked out the window and watched the autumnal landscape pass by. Inside, emotion mixed with a kind of thirst for attention, for triumph. Today, she would not be just another face in the room. Today, Selene Akvis would leave her mark, and Maximo Valois would be her trophy.

  Priscila, a young woman who was five feet six inches tall, an average height that allowed her to move naturally and gracefully without drawing too much attention. Her deep black hair fell in straight strands that framed her face to shoulder height, adorned by butterfly bangs that gave her a modern and youthful air.

  Her skin had an intermediate tone, neither pale nor too tanned, which subtly highlighted her natural beauty. She had warm and expressive almond-colored eyes that seemed to contain a world of thoughts and emotions that she rarely shared.

  Although from the front her figure seemed well-proportioned, she was aware of the details that made her feel insecure. Her abdomen was slightly prominent, and her chest, although elegant, was considerably smaller than that of many girls her age, which made her question whether she fit the standards that her position as princess seemed to demand of her.

  However, there was something in her bearing and attitude that eclipsed any superficial judgment. The confidence she projected when she walked with determination or faced challenges showed that Priscilla needed no further adornment; her true strength lay in her character and the depth of her spirit.

  The handsome Maximus was about six feet tall, standing out among many for his elegant bearing and imposing presence. His hair, although carefully trimmed at the sides, was kept at a length that emphasized his style; the chestnut locks with almond highlights shone in the light, adding a warm touch to his appearance. His eyes, dark brown almost black when viewed from a distance, had a magnetic intensity that captivated anyone who met his gaze.

  His posture was impeccable, a reflection of the discipline and education he had received, and his physique was well-shaped for his age, the product of years dedicated to physical activity and maintaining a healthy lifestyle. His clear, almost perfect skin seemed to resist the inclemency of the weather, although he preferred to keep his face hair-free; he kept his beard and moustache, which could give him a more mature air, at bay, opting for a youthful but refined appearance.

  Beyond his physical appearance, Máximo was a clever and brave man, with a competitive spirit that drove him to always seek new challenges. However, he also had a deeply romantic side, a space in his heart reserved for the purest emotions. He loved writing letters full of feeling and found solace in books, where he could lose himself in worlds that resonated with his soul. His favorite work was Anna Karenina, a story that spoke to him of the complexities of love and human tragedies, themes that somehow seemed to connect with the deepest parts of his being.

  Máximo was, without a doubt, a fascinating figure, someone who managed to combine strength, intelligence and sensitivity in a way that few could match.

  Miss Selene, on the other hand, was not particularly tall, measuring just under 1.57 meters. However, she managed to appear taller, hovering around 5'6” thanks to her trusty high heels, which were never missing from her attire. Her long, light brown hair, always well cared for, was one of her greatest assets. She loved to adorn it with delicate accessories and braid it in elaborate styles that always sought to highlight her femininity and sophistication.

  Physically, Selene had an attractive body that perfectly matched the aesthetic standards of that society. She was aware of this, which fed her confident attitude and her belief that she deserved the compliments of others. Despite her dazzling appearance, the reality was that not as many suitors as she expected surrendered at her feet, a discrepancy that frustrated her silently, although she would never admit it.

  As for her character, Selene was a woman with a strong and determined personality. She couldn't stand being ordered about and, if something didn't seem important to her, she simply didn't do it. This attitude made her seem impolite, even rude, at times, and it was not uncommon to hear those who described her as ill-mannered. Her gaze, intensified by her green eyes, had an almost intimidating force, capable of disarming anyone who tried to hold it for more than a few seconds.

  Selene was, in essence, a combination of beauty and determination, with a temperament that could be both fascinating and disconcerting. Her actions and her presence always made an impact, for better or for worse, making it clear that she was not someone who went unnoticed.

  On the other hand, there are the secondary characters, those who, although they do not always occupy center stage, play crucial roles in the development of our story. Among them, the wise and firm queen stands out, who guides

  Priscila with a mixture of affection and severity. There is also Brieonne, Priscila's best friend, always faithful and willing to accompany her in her happiest and darkest moments.

  If necessary, every 10 or 20 chapters I will dedicate a special moment to detailing important new characters, making sure you always have a clear idea of who the figures are that cross Priscilla's path and what role they play in her destiny. So, dear reader, I hope that together we can continue to explore this world and its fascinating inhabitants.