Chapter 4 The Ball #2
It was a summons, and the nobility below the grand staircase answered with profound reverence.
All turned to them, whispers screamed as heads dipped, and frowns were replaced by scandalous gasps.
It felt like all the world had narrowed in on her and the judgment of these people.
If it weren’t for the music and dancers never faltering, Luci might have been stuck on that staircase for all eternity.
Instead, she felt the gentle pull and murmured reassurance of Lady Margaret. Each step felt like a mile, but she took it with all the grace and pride that Brielle would have. She would not falter. Would not fail.
“I probably should have said something on the way.” Lady Margaret whispered in her ear, each of their steps into the snake den in unison.
“But Stefan has been doing very well at court. He says the nobles see him as a threat and have been conspiring against him. Of course, it must be terrible for him, but having you- Brielle, I mean, here will help him immensely.”
Of course, it was ambition. It was always ambition with Lord Treveon.
“How?”
“Oh, you know how he gets about Blythe’s future and image and all that tedious nonsense.”
The words were said with too much casual flippance to be anything but wounds festering.
Everything she didn’t say was louder than anything else she said.
Brielle was the future of Blythe because Lady Margaret could not have children.
It was never said outright, but plenty of mystics and famed herbalists had come to Blythe over the years: doctors, purveyors of the ancient ways, and those claiming a tie to the Light Above.
Desperation looked like thousands of coin spent in pursuit of a swollen belly.
Only once had she found Lady Margaret crying after one of them had left.
There had been a distinct smell of urine and sage, which had been prescribed to her as a topical fertility stimulant.
Nonsense. It was all nonsense and just a way to take advantage of a grieving woman.
That night in the kitchen when they had both gone to find solitude, Lady Margaret had confessed her perceived failing—a moment of weakness that was quickly covered by smiles and niceties that broke Luci’s heart.
When Luci had tried to bring it up later, she acted as if she hadn’t the faintest idea what she was speaking of.
So Luci never said another word about it, but she thought of that night often.
Thought of the burdens Lady Margaret carried with her, even though she was always quick to smile.
The darkest of pain could be hidden behind a beautiful smile.
“He thought if he could prove Brielle is healthy enough, it would silence the other nobles and solidify his place next to King Rupert. He is using her.” Luci realized she had said the last part out loud and jerked her eyes up to Lady Margaret, but she wasn’t moved.
She merely cleared her throat and kept ahead. “What Stefan does is for all of us, Luci, darling. We must help him in whatever way we can.”
There was no world where Luci was prepared to argue with the woman beside her, who had given more than enough.
Instead, she let her disdain for the way Lord Treveon would use his daughter carry her next steps.
At least it explained the wary glances and curious whispers they were receiving.
If Lord Treveon had made a name for himself at court, then everyone connected to him would now be under scrutiny.
“Ah, come my sweet, we will get you some-”
“Lady Brielle?” A melodic voice called. “I hardly recognized you!”
Swallowing a groan, Luci twisted and found a stunning brunette with perfect curls and large brown eyes staring at her with a wide smile. If she was supposed to know who this was, she was already failing miserably.
“Oh, how lovely. Lady Annabeth, you are practically glowing tonight.” Lady Margaret’s delivery was effortless, and her help seemingly given under polite courtesy.
Lady Annabeth of Dorden, of course. Now she saw the glow of evil around the woman. Ten years had been kind to her and rid her of all her youthful awkwardness, but the words she spoke to Brielle when they were younger were a grudge Luci was willing to carry to her grave.
“Lady Annabeth,” Luci dipped her head, biting back a thousand words.
The woman took Luci’s gloved hand in hers and squeezed slightly too hard. Some things never changed. It was an effort not to roll her eyes.
“You look so well, darling. I knew all those rumors were just immoral gossip. I told all of them that Brielle is a quiet girl; she merely enjoys living out in the country. After all, the court is not for everyone.”
Honeyed words and stinging barbs. This is what Luci hated about the court above all—the veiled insults wrapped in pretty words. Life would be much simpler if they just said what they thought, but no, it had to be a dance or politeness.
“Yes, last time I was at court was, oh my goodness.” Luci made a show of thinking. “Well, your face was still red with the affliction of youth. I am glad to see it has since cleared. What a relief that must be for you.”
The villain’s mouth fell open, and Lady Margaret cleared her throat in clear disapproval. Though why was unclear. Luci had delivered the line with perfect politeness and was the epitome of graciousness.
Lady Annabeth shut her mouth abruptly and tilted her head. “That reminds me, how is that sweet orphan your family has been so gracious to take in. I remember she had quite the sharp tongue.”
“Oh my,” Lady Margaret hummed. “Oh, darling, you must excuse us. Brielle hasn’t-”
Whatever she was going to presumptively say to salvage the situation was lost to the abrupt sound of trumpets that were far too aggressive for an indoor party. It was a wonder they couldn’t hear them at Blythe as the offending sound bounced off the gilded walls all around them.
“The royal family.” Lady Margaret whispered in her ear.
Obviously. Who else would warrant such a dramatic flare?
Lady Annabeth stood a little taller and came to stand next to Luci as everyone turned to the obscenely tall double doors gilded in golden vines and a green-stemmed red rose at the center.
If the castle had ever belonged to another house, history had long forgotten them.
Only the Vencias had ruled as far as Meridea was concerned.
The crowd waited in rapt awe as dancers hurried from the floor and into the waiting crowd.
Somehow, Luci found herself at the front of the desperate nobles eager to lick their nobility’s shoes.
The door opened, and King Rupert and Queen Alexia strode through in finery beyond Luci’s comprehension—Crimson and gold of the finest making.
Standing together, they were their house emblem.
Close behind, a masked prince strode through as if he were born to rule over them all.
And so he was. Prince Ira was everything a crown prince of Meridea was expected to be—tall, handsome, light brown hair perfectly placed.
Lady Annabeth let out a longing sigh, and Luci didn’t try to stop the roll of her eyes this time.
It was all just so painfully predictable.
Even knowing what was coming next, the sight of Prince Lucien set her blood on fire, and her hands balled into fists.
He reeked of entitlement and self-importance from even where she stood.
His masked face wore a smirk that she would gladly have slapped off his face.
Beside him was Princess Gladys, who wore a tight smile even as her red dress glittered with every step.
There could be no mistaking that the family of five was related.
They all had defined noses and high cheekbones that spoke of careful breeding.
Hair all the same shade of light brown hair, except for the Queen with her long blond curls.
The next two to walk out were very clearly not related.
Lord Treveon, in his finery, was walking with his chest puffed out with self-importance.
Another man of similar humor was standing beside him.
“Our fathers have been indispensable to the king of late,” Annabeth whispered.
Well, at least that answered that question. Of course, it was her father.
Lord Treveon’s beady eyes scanned the room until they landed on her, and it was almost dizzying.
A soft breath relaxed his shoulders, and his mouth grew into a wide smile.
Pride shining in his eyes even at this distance.
It was unnerving, but then she remembered it wasn’t meant for her. It was all for Brielle.
Now all she had to do was keep her distance enough that he didn’t learn the truth of it.
“Doesn’t Prince Ira look handsome tonight?” Annabeth crooned, sickly sweet in her ear.
Luci supposed the crown prince was plenty handsome. Traditionally beautiful without a flaw in sight. Yet it made him boring. There was nothing about him that wasn’t expected. He was exactly who he was bred to be.
When Luci declined to answer, Annabeth scoffed.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you intend, Brielle Treveon. Coming out of your nest on tonight of all nights. You will find that it was all for nothing, though. That proposal is as good as mine,” she said, so only Luci could hear.
Luci snorted. “Well then, I suppose congratulations are in order, Your Grace.”
Annabeth opened her mouth to speak, but the trumpets finally ended their revelry.
A shot of satisfaction ran through Luci at getting the last word.
The woman next to her symbolized everything that was wrong with the court.
Ambition and greed mixed with each other until the end result was rotten and reeking of decay.
She could keep her prince. Luci was here to be Brielle for just one night.
An hour more of avoiding Lord Treveon and then she could run home and tell Brielle every detail.