Chapter 3
A hush fell over the room. The effect was immediate. Every girl in the lineup straightened, smoothing skirts, adjusting hair, forcing their most demure and charming expressions onto their faces. A few gasped softly, hands fluttering to their chests as if they had just been struck by Cupid's arrow.
I kept my reaction measured, though my heart pounded in my chest. This was it.
Crown Prince Roland strode into the banquet hall with the confidence of someone who had spent his entire life under scrutiny.
He was tall, with broad shoulders, curly but well-groomed brown hair, and the imperial family's amber eyes.
His posture was impeccable, and his expression was pleasant, befitting a prince, with the corners of his mouth slightly upturned.
He looked every bit the part of a future king. And, more importantly, he was the man who I had to make sure would not kill me in the future.
I subtly glanced at Katia. She, unlike the others, was staring down at her gloved hands, looking as though she wanted to disappear into the floor. No. That wouldn't do. She needed to stand out—not too much, but enough for Roland to notice her. How did they meet in the novel?
I calmed myself, steadying my nerves. They're destined to be together.
She will stand out to him no matter what.
The best thing I could do was not interfere with the events of the novel too much.
But just me being here, next to Katia, has changed something, I pursed my lips.
I would do the best I could to make sure things occurred according to the novel, without meddling.
The introductions began, each girl curtsying as her name was announced. Some tried to dazzle him with carefully rehearsed witticisms, while others batted their lashes and blushed prettily. Roland remained polite but impassive, offering a courteous nod or a few short words in response.
"Lady Rosaria Leeland, daughter of Duke Leeland."
As he heard my name, Roland's gaze flickered with recognition. He knows I'm the one to be his future fiance. To him, Rosaria was just another spoiled young socialite who cared only for her own needs. He knows my reputation.
I lowered into a perfectly practiced curtsy, keeping my tone respectful but not overly sweet. "It is an honor, Your Highness."
Roland studied me for a second longer than he had the others as he regarded me curiously. I was nothing like the rumors. Then, he gave a small nod.
"The honor is mine, Lady Rosaria."
"Lady Katia Wethersprite, daughter of Baron Wethersprite."
She hesitated for half a second before stepping forward and curtsying. "Y-Your Highness."
Her voice was soft, uncertain. Roland's gaze lingered on her, with her soft features and kind expression. He looked like he wanted to say more to her, but with a quick glance at his father he continued down the line. He will dance with her later.
In the original novel, they would form a small connection during their dance where he was captivated by her endearing charm, and that made Rosaria jealous, causing her to spill wine all over Katia's dress.
Being the noble man he was, he quickly shielded her and led her out of the room, but it was an event that led him to spite Rosaria and his connection with Katia grew.
He was quite unhappy to find out it was Rosaria, the very woman he'd be wed to.
As the introductions continued, I watched the faces of each noble family silently cheering their daughter on.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the King up on the balcony.
He was watching the whole thing unfold—but I could tell who he was really watching.
The families of the girls who were being introduced.
The Leelands had always been Loyalists. With our rich mines in the mountains and sea-faring trade, the Duke hardly missed a penny of what was stolen from him every year.
While I may have had an unruly reputation, I, Rosaria, was the perfect candidate in the King's eyes.
It would be impossible to dissuade him tonight, I grumbled.
As the introductions concluded, the music swelled, signaling the start of the ball. The candidates were expected to mingle while waiting for the first dance, during which the prince would partner with each of us in turn.
I moved with the other ladies toward the refreshment tables, deliberately keeping a measured pace so I could watch Roland from the corner of my eye. He was in conversation with a few other nobles as he glanced over at us, but I'd guessed he no doubt decided who his first dance would be.
Crown Prince Roland, contrary to his composed and icy public figure, was a very kind and caring man.
He always wanted what was best for his kingdom and his people, and had even achieved the skills of knighthood while learning swordsmanship, something rare at the young age of eighteen.
But he, like my father, was too kind and caring.
As the only prince, he didn't have to watch his back.
That innocence would soon come crashing down when the Shadow Walkers took the kingdom from his grasp.
I spotted the person he was talking to, and my eyes narrowed sharply. Chancellor Veltin. The tall, lanky, balding man looked greasy to me, fitting of his true nature. He laughed as if the Prince said something seemingly funny, while his eyes scanned us. And landed on me.
"Rosaria!"
A lilting, honeyed voice called my name, and I had to suppress a sigh before turning with a carefully practiced smile.
Lady Vivienne Harcourt stood before me, a vision of elegance in a rose-colored gown adorned with delicate embroidery.
Her golden curls were perfectly coiffed, and she held herself with the effortless poise of someone who had been trained since birth to look superior without seeming like she was trying.
"Vivienne," I greeted smoothly. "You look lovely tonight."
A soft giggle escaped her. "Oh, how kind of you. But really, Rosaria, I must say—your dress is so... understated tonight. How unusual!"
I sighed. This was the second person to comment on my attire.
Should I have worn something more flashy?
Maybe this was the wrong move... But I couldn't bear to wear the revealing dresses she normally wore.
Rosaria, in the novel, was always draped in the most extravagant silks, her wardrobe a clear display of her family's wealth and power.
But I had deliberately chosen something simpler tonight, hoping to avoid being the center of attention.
It was clearly not going unnoticed.
"I think it's a nice change," said Lady Odette Loraine, a tall girl with dark, wavy hair and keen green eyes.
Unlike Vivienne, Odette was not one for coy smiles and backhanded compliments.
If she disliked you, she made it known. If she respected you, she made it known.
She was a tactician's daughter, and subtlety was not her strong suit.
Vivienne's eyes twitched ever so slightly, but she kept her practiced smile. "Oh, of course. I simply meant that Lady Rosaria usually makes more of a statement, that's all."
I tilted my head, feigning innocent curiosity. "And yet, here you are, noticing me anyway. How flattering."
Odette smirked. Vivienne's eyes flashed, but she recovered quickly.
"Oh, Rosaria, you're as sharp as ever," she said with a tinkling laugh. "You must be so confident about tonight's selection, hmm?"
I sipped my wine, keeping my expression composed. "Confident? Not particularly. I doubt His Highness will make his true thoughts known until the engagement is formally announced."
Vivienne hummed. "Perhaps. Still, wouldn't it be wonderful if he made a bold choice tonight? I can only imagine the look on some people's faces." She fluttered her lashes, gaze pointedly flicking toward Lady Celine Montfort.
She stood a few paces away, her pristine white gown emphasizing the raven-black of her hair.
Her sharp, ice-blue eyes gave her the appearance of someone born to command.
And, to be fair, she had been. Celine came from an old noble family, one whose bloodline had been intertwined with royalty in the past. She was the "logical" choice for a Crown Princess, if one looked at the political landscape.
Which is why she hated Rosaria.
Rosaria, the spoiled and extravagant daughter of a duke, was someone Celine had always viewed as a pest. She thought Rosaria was undeserving of a chance at the throne.
Frankly, I agree. I thought.
I admit, I was satisfied reading Rosaria's downfall.
But now that I was in her body, I didn't want that to happen to me.
"Vivienne," Celine said coolly, approaching with measured grace. "If you have time to gossip, you have time to improve your posture. It's beginning to slip."
Vivienne's face turned a shade too stiff to be natural, though she quickly masked it with another laugh. "How diligent you are, Celine! Truly, you never miss a detail."
I observed them carefully, sipping my wine as their quiet battle of words unfolded. Vivienne, with her honeyed manipulation; Odette, with her blunt practicality; Celine, with her rigid sense of superiority. They were all pieces in the greater game.
And then, there was Katia. She had been standing on the outskirts of the group, clearly reluctant to be involved in any of this nonsense. That was my opening.
I turned slightly toward her. "Katia, have you tried the honeyed pears? I hear they're divine this season."
Katia blinked at me, startled by being addressed directly. "Oh, um, no, I haven't."
"Then you must." I plucked a delicate plate from the table and handed it to her, keeping my tone warm. "I'd hate for you to miss out on them."
Vivienne and Celine both watched the exchange with varying degrees of curiosity. Katia, after all, was not a major player in this competition. She was a baron's daughter, lacking the influence and wealth of the other candidates. Most of them saw her as irrelevant.
Odette, at least, seemed to approve. "Finally, someone with sense. These events are exhausting. The only good thing about them is the food."
Katia hesitated before taking a cautious bite of the fruit. Her eyes widened slightly. "It's... really good."
Odette nodded. "See? Told you. You should try the stuffed figs next."
I smiled. I liked Odette—she didn't appear much at all in the novel, but her bluntness was charming, in a roundabout sort of way. At least I could always tell where her loyalties lie. She may be important in the future. This was good, I was making connections.
Vivienne, of course, wasn't going to let me steer things away so easily. She tilted her head, looking between me and Katia with a calculating expression.
"My, Rosaria, how kind of you," she mused. "I never knew you and Lady Katia were such good friends."
She was poking at me for hanging out with someone of lower status. I smiled, unfazed. "There's no harm in getting to know someone new, is there?"
Celine let out a quiet scoff. "And here I thought you were only interested in people who could benefit you, Lady Rosaria."
I turned to Celine, meeting her gaze directly. "And yet, here you are, speaking to me." I tilted my head slightly. "Should I take that as a compliment?"
For a second, I thought I saw something almost amused in Celine's eyes. She didn't like me, but she could appreciate a well-aimed remark. Before anyone could say more, the music shifted.
The first dance was about to begin.
"Katia," I said, lowering my voice just enough to make it feel like a secret, as everyone's attention was turned toward the Prince as he approached the line of candidates. "Do you want to hear something interesting?"
She blinked up at me in surprise. "What?"
"Prince Roland isn't fond of shallow flattery. He prefers conversations that feel genuine." I tilted my head slightly. "That's why I think you'll stand out more than you think."
Katia hesitated, eyes darting toward the prince. "I... I wouldn't know what to say to him."
I smiled, as if sharing a great secret. "You like horses, don't you?"
She nodded, puzzled.
"When you dance with him, ask him about his. He has a warhorse named Astra. He raised it himself, trained it personally. If you ask about Astra, he'll actually engage in conversation."
Katia's lips parted slightly in astonishment. "How do you know that?"
I waved a hand airily. "It's just something I heard." I wasn't about to tell her that I had read about it in a novel myself, or that I knew Prince Roland better than anyone here.
Katia glanced toward the prince again, then back at me. "...Thank you, Lady Rosaria."
"Call me Rosaria," I said with an easy smile. "We're going to be seeing a lot of each other, after all."
She nodded, a bit stiffly, but I could see the gratitude in her eyes.
For now, I needed to blend in, observe, and guide the pieces into place. I eyed the crowd of eager onlookers. Julian, I noticed, was doing a remarkable job keeping Father occupied—for now.
A herald stepped forward and cleared his throat.
"The first dance shall commence! His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Roland, will now choose his first partner!"
A hush fell over the room. The tension was palpable.
Every girl held her breath, waiting. I stood there cooly, fighting the urge to stifle a yawn.
I knew what would happen, I'd read it a million times.
Roland would dance first with Celine, because he knew her best, and then move on to the other girls.
While she was the obvious choice for Crown Princess, the King wouldn't choose her because he didn't trust her father.
And then, Roland moved. He strode forward with the same measured confidence, stopping just before me, offering his hand.
"May I have this dance?"