Chapter 9 The Pre-Game Disaster
Being stuck in a carriage with Gisella was like sitting in a crate of unlit fireworks.
We were bumping down the cobblestone road toward the palace, but my eyes were burning.
I couldn't look anywhere without seeing red.
The dress? Red. The rubies? Red. The stupid feather fan?
Red. I was sitting next to her in my boring, grey curtains, and I felt like a mistake in the room's color palette.
"Why are you staring, Ilse?" Gisella adjusted her tiara, which was sliding sideways every time we hit a pothole. "I know I look good. I want Didier to see exactly what he's missing while he plays knight to that farm girl."
I exhaled. Hard. "Gisella, we had a deal. A blue dress. Elegant. Calm. Not 'I'm about to start a riot' red."
She waved a hand, dismissing me. "Sky blue is boring! And the 'elegant' plan? Too slow. We need something that makes her look like trash right now."
My gut dropped. Whenever an airhead like Gisella says "instant results," I know I'm about to be unemployed or dead. I leaned in, voice low and dangerous.
"Don't tell me you did something stupid."
She smiled a tight, smug little grin. She snapped her fan shut with a loud clack and leaned in, looking like she was about to drop the best gossip ever. As she did, a sharp, unwanted memory flashed through my mind.
That day at the boutique. I remembered it all too clearly, as real plot novel, the way Gisella and Ilse had cornered Lysandra, cruelly tearing her dress to shreds right in front of her, and then simply walking away while she stood there sobbing.
It was a vicious, petty moment that had solidified our reputation as the villains of the story, and looking at Gisella now, I realized she hadn't changed one bit.
"Relax, Ilse. No poison this time." She sounded way too proud of herself.
"I bribed a palace servant. Logistics team. The second that farm girl hits the rose garden, he's going to 'trip' and dump a gallon of red wine all over her white dress. She'll be soaked, smelling like booze, and look like a drunk in front of the Empress. Genius, right?"
I shut my eyes. My chest didn't hurt from the corset anymore it hurt from sheer, unadulterated stupidity. I wanted to jump out of the moving carriage. Why? Why was my second life a babysitting gig for a villainess who had the brainpower of a hamster?
"Ilse? You're turning green," Gisella frowned. "It's a good plan! Cheap, fast, no dead bodies."
"Good?" I hissed, keeping my voice down so the coachman wouldn't hear. "It's a disaster! You bribed a servant? With what? Please tell me you didn't use the gold coins with the Mercer family crest on them."
Gisella blinked. Her face went blank. "I... I did. How did you know?"
I wanted to smash my head against the wood paneling. "Because you're an idiot! Palace servants are watched. Some low-life staffer suddenly flashing Mercer gold at an Empress's party? The Head Steward will sniff that out in three minutes. They'll make him talk before he can even finish his lunch."
Panic finally started to flicker in her eyes. "B-but he promised..."
"A servant's promise isn't worth a damn to the Royal Guard!"
I snapped. "Once the military gets wind of this especially if the Prince gets involved they'll tear that guy's room apart, find your coins, and drag us both to the dungeon. You want your head on a spike by Monday?"
Gisella was silent. The smugness drained out of her face, leaving her looking like a wet cat. She shredded her handkerchief.
"What do we do? We're almost at the gate," she squeaked. "I can't cancel it. I don't even know which servant took the money. I had my assistant handle it."
I gripped the edge of the seat, forcing my heart rate down. We were screwed. We hadn't even arrived, and the timeline was already falling apart. I had to intercept that servant. I had to break the plan.
"Listen to me. When we get out, you stay glued to my side. You don't move an inch without my say-so. Understood?"
She nodded, pale and terrified, all that "future Empress" ego gone.
The carriage slowed. We were hitting the approach to the palace inner gate. Through the small window, I saw the white marble walls of the Empress's rose garden. A line of noble carriages was ahead of us.
But then......KREEEKK!
The horses whinnied. The carriage bucked hard, throwing us forward. Gisella's tiara actually hit the ceiling.
"What's happening?!" Gisella grabbed the window, yanking it open.
The air outside felt like it was shrinking.
The road was blocked. A row of soldiers in silver armor and dark blue cloaks stood in our way.
Golden lion crests on their shields. Elite guards.
The Prince's personal force.Two of them marched toward our carriage.
One of them didn't even knock; he hit the door with the pommel of his sword.
CLANG. The sound made my stomach turn over.
"Viscountess Ilse de Varannes and Lady Gisella von Mercer," a cold, clipped voice cut through the air. "Step out of the carriage. By order of the Prince's personal guard, your vehicle is being detained for inspection before entering palace grounds."