I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

Chapter 9: Strange visitor?

Matilda's eyes flicked briefly towards the door as it closed behind Zafron. She turned back to Gwendolyn, her expression carefully neutral.

"Long face? I'm sure I don't know what you mean," Matilda replied, her tone light but clipped. She reached for a nearby decanter, pouring herself a generous glass of wine. "Now, weren't we discussing the upcoming solstice celebration? I recall you mentioning something about the decorations."

Gwendolyn's eyebrow arched slightly at the obvious deflection, but she didn't press further. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Of course, dear. The decorations. Though I must say, I find our young Zafron far more interesting at the moment. Such a... charming lad, wouldn't you agree?"

Matilda took a long sip of her wine before responding, her voice steady. "He's a diligent worker. Nothing more, nothing less. Now, about those decorations..."

As Matilda steered the conversation away from Zafron, her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the stem of her wine glass, betraying a tension that her calm demeanor otherwise concealed.

Gwendolyn leaned forward, her eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and challenge. "Come now, Matilda. Surely there's more to your interest in young Zafron than his work ethic. I've seen the way you look at him. What plans do you have for your new... acquisition?"

Matilda's grip on her wine glass tightened further, but her face remained impassive. She met Gwendolyn's gaze steadily, her voice cool and controlled. "I don't know what you're implying, Gwendolyn, but I assure you, your imagination is running wild. Zafron is an employee, nothing more. Now, can we please return to the matter at hand?"

Gwendolyn's smile faltered slightly at Matilda's directness, but she pressed on, undeterred. "Oh, Matilda, there's no need to be coy with me. We're friends, aren't we? You can share your little secrets."

Matilda took another sip of wine, using the moment to compose herself. When she spoke again, her voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "Gwendolyn, I value our friendship, but I don't appreciate this line of questioning. My personal affairs are just that - personal. Now, shall we discuss the solstice celebration, or would you prefer to end our meeting here?"

The two women stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken tension. Finally, Gwendolyn leaned back in her chair, her smile now tinged with a hint of disappointment. "Very well, dear. The solstice celebration it is."

As they began to discuss the upcoming event, both women maintained their polite facades, but beneath the surface, a complex web of motivations and calculations churned.

Their friendship, if it could truly be called that, was a carefully constructed illusion. Both Matilda and Gwendolyn were acutely aware of the fragile nature of their relationship, built more on mutual benefit than genuine affection.

For Gwendolyn, this association with Matilda was crucial. Matilda's position as one of the most influential members of the elite wives' club was the key to Gwendolyn's continued social relevance. Being seen as Matilda's confidante opened doors that would otherwise remain firmly closed to her. It granted her access to the inner circles of power, where whispered words could make or break reputations, and where the seeds of political and social maneuvering were sown.

Gwendolyn had clawed her way up the social ladder, using every connection and manipulating every situation to her advantage. But she knew all too well how precarious her position was. One misstep, one fall from grace, and she would tumble back down to obscurity. Matilda was her lifeline, her guarantee of continued influence in a world where influence was everything.

Matilda, for her part, was equally aware of the transactional nature of their friendship. She tolerated Gwendolyn's presence and occasional probing because it served her purposes. Gwendolyn, for all her faults, was an excellent source of information. Her insatiable appetite for gossip and her network of connections meant she often knew things before anyone else. This made her a valuable asset in Matilda's own political maneuverings.

Moreover, keeping Gwendolyn close allowed Matilda to monitor her. She knew Gwendolyn's ambitious nature and her constant need to compete. By maintaining this facade of friendship, Matilda could better control and direct Gwendolyn's actions, ensuring they aligned with her own interests rather than potentially undermining them.

As they continued their discussion about the solstice celebration, both women played their parts to perfection. They smiled at the right moments, agreed on the appropriate points, and maintained an outward appearance of warm camaraderie. To any observer, they would appear as the closest of friends, sharing confidences and working together harmoniously.

Matilda's eyes darted to the door for the third time in as many minutes before refocusing on Gwendolyn. "So, for the solstice celebration, I was thinking we could use silver and blue as our primary colors. What do you think?"

Gwendolyn nodded, her gaze following Matilda's. "Expecting someone, dear?"

"Not at all," Matilda replied smoothly. "Now, about those colors?"

"Silver and blue would be lovely. Speaking of lovely, did you hear about Lady Emmeline's new... companion?"

Matilda's eyebrow arched. "I try not to indulge in gossip, Gwendolyn."

"Oh, but this isn't mere gossip. It could affect the guest list. After all, we wouldn't want any... awkward encounters at the celebration, would we?"

Sighing, Matilda conceded. "Very well. What about Lady Emmeline?"

As Gwendolyn launched into her story, Matilda's gaze drifted to the door again.

"Matilda, are you listening?" Gwendolyn's voice cut through her distraction.

"Of course. Lady Emmeline's companion. Do go on."

"Well, as I was saying, he's apparently quite young. Barely of age, if the rumors are to be believed."

Matilda's fingers tightened on her glass. "I see. And this concerns our planning how, exactly?"

Gwendolyn leaned forward, her voice lowering conspiratorially. "Well, given your... interest in young Zafron, I thought you might want to know about potential... competition."

"Gwendolyn," Matilda's voice was sharp. "I've told you, there's nothing of the sort going on. Now, can we please focus on the task at hand?"

"Of course, dear. Though I must say, your constant glances at the door suggest otherwise. Are you sure you're not waiting for someone? Perhaps a certain young man?"