Chapter 14 The "Wise" Gisella
The rustle of heavy silk next to me finally broke the quiet. After standing there like a statue for a solid minute, Gisella finally got the memo. Her turn to shine.
The endless, annoying letters I'd been spamming her house with all week actually stuck in that thick skull of hers.
I vividly remembered writing one specific line in bold ink: Didier is sick of screaming, whiny girls.
If you want him to look at you, act like you have the biggest heart in the room, even if it's completely fake.
Gisella took a deep breath, the massive pile of gems on her chest shifting way too dramatically. She lifted her chin, arrogant as ever, and stepped right past my dripping, wine-soaked self. She waved her red feather fan slow, blowing that aggressive rose perfume into the air.
"Stupid servant!"
Her voice cut through the garden. Sharp, high, total rich-girl barking orders—but she kept it structured this time.
The guy hit the grass even lower, his forehead pressed straight into the dirt. He was shaking like a leaf, probably thinking his head was rolling next.
"It is a good thing Lady Ilse moved fast to stop you!"
Gisella snapped, glaring down at the empty glass pitcher before shifting a look of fake pity onto Lysandra.
"If not for my best friend's sacrifice, the Crown Prince's preferred temple girl would be soaked in booze because of your embarrassing clumsiness!"
I barely kept myself from rolling my eyes. Nice one, Gisella.
The girl actually nailed her cue. She even threw in that "preferred temple girl" shade.
Smooth for a brat. By calling Lysandra the Prince's preference right in front of high society, Gisella basically exposed Didier's blatant favoritism.
She positioned herself as the long-suffering, magnanimous fiancée who literally let her closest friend get ruined just to protect the Prince's favorite girl and keep the Empress's party from turning into a joke.
The whispering among the noble ladies by the rose bushes started up again. But the tone? Totally flipped. The nasty glares shifted away from us and landed right on my ruined, purple-stained grey dress.
A heavy-set noblewoman shook her head in pity, murmuring to her friend.
In high society, a malicious plot is supposed to benefit the villain.
Since I, Gisella's literal shadow,was the one who got blasted with wine, the sabotage theory died instantly.
Nobody with a brain ruins their best friend's expensive outfit just to frame a peasant.
We were safe. We were the victims, the martyrs, the big-hearted nobles who didn't even throw a clumsy servant in the palace dungeon.
I glanced at the guy who had been ready to ruin my family five minutes ago.
Prince Didier was still frozen three meters away. His "white knight" routine was completely dead. His jaw was slack, his eyes totally blank. His hand slowly slipped off the hilt of his sword, dropping awkwardly to his side.
The big, angry speech he had ready? A total bust. Didier came to this party assuming we were going to terrorize Lysandra, and he was ready to kick us out for it. But now? If he yelled at us, he would look like an ungrateful tyrant in front of his mother's guests.
He looked at me, wine still dripping down my neck.
He looked at Gisella, fanning herself like a saint.
Then he looked at Lysandra, who was like a lost child.
The Crown Prince was stuck. Completely out of words while the entire garden waited to see how the future king would react after his fiancée just saved the entire afternoon.
Finally, he cleared his throat, his expression carefully composed, hiding the volatility beneath.
"The servant responsible for this clumsiness will be dealt with," he announced, his voice smooth and authoritative, projecting just enough for the surrounding nobles to hear.
"Twenty lashes. It is a light punishment, to be sure, but sufficient to remind the staff of the decorum required at the Empress's gathering."
He didn't bother to ask for names, and he clearly had no intention of launching an investigation.
It was a calculated move, burying the incident quickly so he wouldn't have to address the reality of what happened.
He couldn't afford to look concerned for Lysandra under the Empress's watchful gaze, not when the entire court was watching his every move.
He needed to minimize the fallout, and ignoring the "clumsy servant" was the only way to keep his true priorities hidden.