Chapter 8 The Garden Party Trap
The ivory paper with the mum shaped wax seal sat on my desk like a court subpoena.
The Empress's Garden Party. Next week. My brain immediately did a deep dive into the novel's plot, and I felt like puking.
This was the "Lotus Pond Incident." It was a classic, brain-dead villain move: Ilse (the original) pushes the heroine, Lysandra, into the palace pond to grab the Prince's attention.
In the original book? That event was a total disaster.
Prince Didier instantly turned into a hero for Lysandra.
He sprang into action. Pulled Lysandra right out of the pond. Soaking wet. A cheap, cheesy romance trope.
Meanwhile, Gisella?
Standing frozen by the edge of the pond. Her face flushed red with pure rage. Eyes glaring daggers. She looked exactly like an unhinged psycho. Absolute zero in social etiquette.
But the worst part wasn't even that.
The original Ilse got caught red-handed.
Busted grinning behind the bushes. Idiocy squared.
The result?
They got completely humiliated at that party.
I massaged the bridge of my nose. Hard. Until the skin stung.
My remaining six-month lifespan?
Could instantly drop to zero.
If Gisella dared to pull a stunt inside the palace.
My brain rebelled hard.
I seriously wanted to fake a severe illness that day.
Maybe drink some dirty water so I'd get genuinely poisoned. Or deliberately trigger a sudden migraine.
Just so I wouldn't have to attend this party.
But... I instantly brushed the idea aside.
Hell no.
If I stayed home and didn't keep an eye on her, who was going to hold Gisella's leash?
She might actually go ahead and execute her stupid poison plan right in the middle of a crowd.
I had to go.
Period. No room for negotiation.
For seven days, I prepped. I ordered a dress from Madame Laurent.
Pigeon grey. No beads, no lace, no cleavage.
I wanted to look like a curtain. I wanted to be invisible.
I'd been sending letters to the Mercer estate every two days, hammering it into Gisella's head: keep it blue, keep it calm, play the elegant fiancée.
Be nice, don't make any movemnet, play it safe, be a calm one" She'd written back, all "Yes, Ilse, you're a genius, I'll do whatever you say."
I actually started to relax. Big mistake.
The day arrived.
I was ready. Boring grey dress, silver pins in my hair. I looked like a background NPC, exactly what I wanted. People wouldn't look at me twice.
A carriage rattled up the driveway. Stomping footsteps hit the porch. My door swung open before the maid could even touch the handle. I was holding my quill, and I almost snapped it in half when I saw who it was.
Gisella.
But not the Gisella I'd "prepped."
She wasn't in sky blue. She was wearing a fire engine red silk dress with a plunging neckline that had more fake jewels than a costume shop.
They glittered, they flashed, they were loud.
Her hair was piled up into a tower of blonde curls, topped with a ruby tiara that looked like it weighed five pounds.
She didn't look like she was going to a garden party. She looked like a walking, talking fire hazard, a neon sign screaming for attention from a mile away.
"Ilse!" she squealed, beaming. She didn't even notice my jaw was on the floor. She slapped her feather fan against her palm, looking way too hyper. "Let's go! I've been prepping since dawn. I am ready for war. We're going to crush that bitch today!"