l to put on a soft satin bonnet adorned with a perfectly placed dew-kissed lily of the valley, which accentuated her attire with a blend of simplicity and grandeur.

Employing the etiquette she had learned during her months at the school, Fiona gave an elegant yet playful curtsy before the Marquis.

"Now you truly look like a young lady, Fiona," the Marquis exclaimed, a genuine stunned look gleaming in his eyes. "I can hardly wait to witness the day when you fully blossom into □□hood."

To Fiona''s delight, her father had sought permission from the abbess, granting her the privilege of strolling arm in arm with him through the blossoming courtyard.

With her apple-like radiant face turned upwards, the girl eagerly chirped to the Marquis about her various fresh experiences during the Feast of Pentecost. Her guardian listened attentively, occasionally casting immensely affectionate glances at the sprite by his side.

After the initial excitement had subsided, a shadow suddenly clouded Fiona''s round face.

"Monsieur the Marquis, where has Mother Agatha gone? Did she truly... die?" she hesitantly inquired.

"You need not concern yourself with her whereabouts, Fiona. It is enough for you to understand that the nun has paid the price for her doings," the Marquis replied in a composed tone.

An inexplicable wave of fear coursed through the little girl''s spine, causing her to instinctively grip the Marquis''s arm. "So, those big sisters were not lying, she truly..."

"But why should you care about that nun, my child?"