Chapter Forty-Two: Cruelty Among Loved Ones Is Fashionable
1256 Words
Azalea Oleander Cursix
“Your imperial majesty!”
I lied to him.
I lied that he was a variable when he was not.
-f**k!!-
Fuscia is the variable.
The last time I lied about a role when its truths were found out, the ‘lead’ at the time botched the entire operation because she felt betrayed.
-f**k!!-
What if…what if he does the same? What if this wrecks my chance?
This is why I don’t lie!!
“Your imperial majesty!”
But he was so stubborn about this. A clear cut chance like this would have been a no brainer for Oberon.
-s**t, was that where I went wrong?-
By comparing him t-
“Your imperial majesty!!”
“WHAT? YES?” I turned suddenly to my knight.
“Your imperial majesty, you are trembling.”
“What?” I frowned, finally out of my head long enough to notice my body’s physiology.
I did not feel cold, but my evening wear did leave much for show.
Beyond a certain level of mana manipulation, the variables of temperature could easily be remedied, however, at this moment. Perhaps using cold as my excuse would suffice.
“Are you warm enough to offer your coat?”
“Yes, Your majesty, for you I would gladly even offer my life for you.”
“Fortunately, at the moment, I only require your coat.”
It wouldn’t stop the tremor or the image of his reaction to my threatening Fuscia from playing in my mind.
However, all the same, it could at least hide them...my reactions to him.
Raiser's white coat was warm and soft against my skin. The jacket having being doused in light cologne, offered a mild woodsy scent that seemed to calm my nerves.
A part of me missed Henderson and his uselessly crude remarks that would often soothe me into forgetting my devils. However, that was another landmine that was better suited left to time as the ball’s madness still hung in the air with the night's youth.
There is no need to refer to my slip up as a lie. I simply need to make the lie true, then perhaps come forward with the alteration should the threat work well enough to have us wedded by the end of next week.
I bit my lip to cease its useless wobble.
I have made a choice. There is no need to hesitate.
This, this is good. This is progress.
A few minutes earlier.
Virginia Nissa Luciano
The night was cold, and the fact that she had had to stand outside in wait for her knight’s message in order to filter his information to her father in nothing but her tight strappy dress and a summer scarf only worsened her mood.
However, the craving for the sweet nicotine release that only tobacco could offer made her more anxious as the devils in her mind began to list all the reasons that smoking would be a good idea.
She was outside, though the scent could latch itself onto her. She had perfume in her bag. If worse comes to worst, she could fake a stomach upset and leave the gala as there was not much she needed to do anyway.
-s**t!-
Why was it, that after all these years, she still cared about the duke’s opinion towards her?
Virginia wondered to herself, despite knowing that all she had to do was simply stop, head back inside where it was warm, and then enjoy the ball without doing backhanded chores. Instead, she wrapped the purely decoration intended lace scarf around her shoulders and decided that nothing warmed up the body more than exercise.
After walking long enough for the Imperial palace's awe-inspiring charm to feel worn out, Virginia realised that she might have taken a wrong turn somewhere along her path as the scent of manure hung ripe in the air.
“Ooh..” she reeled, scrunching her well-chiselled nose as the scent that easily overpowered the blooming flower’s, assaulted her; however, truthfully, the odour reminded her of her mother.
Though Carla Nissa had been a noble through and through, she adored horses, thereby against the Duke’s wishes; whenever she had a chance, she was always either talking to the stable hands, aiding them with the feeding routine or caring for the ailing horses.
As the Eldest, she had been the only one to witness their mother at her prime. Yet still, the only one of the three legitimates to denounce her worth despite knowing both her highs and lows.
It was more the twinge in her chest than the smell of the night that made her halt her thoughts and turn back on her heel.
“I guess wherever you go; horses only seem majestic away from their homes.” She murmured to herself.
“This is no place for nobility such as yourself, Your Ladyship.” A deep and painfully familiar voice warned.
An inexplicably overwhelming sense of panic gripped her, and unlike her, Virginia gripped her skirts as though more than willing to run away in her heels.
However, it was only her body that reacted this way as her mind had already proceeded to reply.
“What place isn’t for…” her breath caught in her throat because she hadn't expected that the man would be even more ruggedly gorgeous than their last parting, “isn’t for nobility. We- we own the world.”
Perhaps it was the lighting that prevented her from breathing more of the man in, but her grip on her skirts loosened, easily replaced by a deep weariness that often claimed her at her weakest.
“I see.” He said simply. Then with a bucket and some small tools in hand, he began walking away.
“Leeroy.” She called, despite herself, especially as she had nothing to say to him.
At least nothing that wouldn’t sound like, ‘don’t turn your back on me,’ ‘please do not hate me,’ ‘please don’t abandon me…’ or something that she perhaps should say, but couldn’t, ‘I am sorry.’
Nevertheless, Leeroy did not stop at her call, perhaps because she had asked him too many times before, so much so that he had no more love or patience left for her.
Was that true? Could that be so?
“Leeroy!’ she called again, this time her tone nearing that of a command.
“What do you want, my lady?”
What did she want? Other than a cigarette, nothing more than his arms around her. His soft gaze rather than the ghastly expression he had on that more than professed his hatred to her.
She wanted him not to detest her. That was it! That was all!
“Do you hate me?” she found herself asking rather than stating her needs.
“What reason do I have to hate you, my lady?”
“Leeroy…”
“You honour this slave by using its n-,”
“Leeroy, please!!”
“I shall away if you-,”
“I- I am sorry..”
At last, the words that had burned Virginia’s throat for nearly a decade were free. She had said them!
“My lady, nobility never makes mistakes. Isn't that what you once professed to me?”
- Writer
