Chapter 10 The First Roadblock
The echo of that sword hilt hitting the carriage door was still buzzing in my ear.
Next to me, Gisella looked like she'd been flash-frozen.
Her red feather fan was shaking so hard a few feathers actually dropped onto the floor.
Her face, which had been all fired up for war this morning, was now change.
A sudden, sickening realization washed over her as she remembered the secret letter she had sent to Didier, one she had carefully hidden from Ilse's knowledge.
In those lines, she had poured out her profound disappointment in him, but it was the vow at the end that now made her blood run cold, she had sworn to inflict suffering upon anyone who dared to steal her fiancé.
I took a slow breath, slapping Gisella's hand before she could have a full meltdown and screw everything up before we even stepped out.
Why is he so on edge? I couldn't help but wonder.
Even from behind the door, I could feel a strange, palpable tension radiating from Prince Didier.
Why was he so intensely anticipating our arrival or perhaps, dreading it?
It made no sense for him to be this preoccupied with a fiancée he clearly despised.
"Stay quiet. Let me handle it," I muttered, pushing the suspicion aside as I slid the heavy deadbolt back.
The cool evening air hit me the second the door swung open. But I didn't care about the two armored guards standing there. My eyes went straight to the white stallion pushing through the line.
Sitting tall in the saddle was a guy in a dark blue cloak with gold embroidery. His blond hair caught the sunset perfectly, matching a handsome face that was currently pulled into a freezing scowl. Prince Didier. The Crown Prince. The sole reason my dumb friend next to me was losing her sanity.
Didier didn't bother getting down. He looked into the carriage from his high horse, using that classic corporate intimidation tactic boss-types love to pull on subordinates.
He glanced at Gisella's obnoxious red dress looking exhausted and annoyed before his sea-blue eyes locked onto me. The disgust on his face was blinding.
To him, Ilse de Varannes was a snake. A poison-whisperer who existed just to make his fiancée act crazy.
"Your Highness..." Gisella squeaked behind me. She tried to lean past me to say something, but I blocked her with my body. No way I was letting her open her mouth and ruin the narrative.
Didier completely ignored her. He stared at me like I was a cockroach.
"I didn't think you'd have the nerve to show your face at my mother's party, Ilse," he said.
His voice was heavy, carrying down the line of noble carriages that were slowing down just to watch the free drama.
"I heard you caused another scene at the boutique, last week ?"
I scoffed internally. Wow. Bad news really flies. Those three gossips in the ugly yellow dresses must have run straight to their connections the second they got home.
Didier pulled his reins, bringing his horse so close its nose almost touched the carriage roof. He leaned down, trying to make me blink.
"Listen to me, Varannes. I know what you are. You're the one feeding Gisella crazy ideas just because you're jealous," he lowered his voice, but the threat was dead serious.
"If you push Gisella to do anything to Lysandra today, I will personally ruin your family. I'll make sure Viscount Varannes loses his lands and rots in a cell until he decays."
Behind me, I heard Gisella gasp. Losing feudal land was a social death sentence for the Varannes family, especially since her dad was already bankrupt.
In the original book, this threat worked perfectly. Ilse would've burst into tears, begged for mercy, and then gone home to plot something even worse out of spite.
But this Prince forgot one thing. The girl he was threatening wasn't the emotional teenager anymore.
I was Anna, a former PR professional who had dealt with power tripping CEOs my entire career.
An empty threat without written proof is just a bluff.
Didier was acting on emotion, abusing his military power over a personal grudge.
Total rookie mistake for a guy who was supposed to be king.
Instead of crying or looking away like a cornered rat, I straightened my spine. I lifted my chin and looked Prince Didier right in the eyes. Didn't blink. Didn't twitch. I just gave him the blank, deadpan look I used on clients who complained without checking their data first.
Didier froze. The muscle in his jaw twitched, and his grip on the reins tightened for a split second.
He wasn't expecting this. The Ilse he knew would've thrown a fit, made pathetic excuses, or stared at him with that obsessive, creepy crush.
But I just stood there, matching his stare with a terrifying amount of calm, almost like I was bored by his little speech.
The silence between us got weirdly suffocating. Even his armored guards held their breath, waiting for the Prince to blow up because his ego just got checked by a look. Heads were poking out of the carriages behind us, dying to see what happened next.
I slowly pulled the corners of my mouth up into a razor-thin, formal smile. Polite, structured, and completely empty. My signature corporate smile.
"See for yourself, Your Highness," I said, my voice steady enough to slice through the quiet gate.