The Villainess is the Villainess [LitRPG]

Book 2: Chapter 29 - The Ball [Part 1]

Dance is the hidden language of the soul.

- Martha Graham.

The sea of silk and satin parted as Seraphina advanced on Hughes's arm, murmurs trailing them like the rustle of taffeta. Fans fluttered, heads dipped, and every fleeting expression—envy, curiosity, disdain—was carefully catalogued behind her calm smile. Zajasite crystal chandeliers scattered prismatic light across the marble floor, but even their brilliance seemed to dim when Crown Prince Velens stepped forward to intercept her.

"Seraphina," he began, striving for effortless grace.

"A pleasant evening to you, Your Highness." She swept into a curtsy so flawless it felt like a rebuke, while Hughes managed a shaky half‑bow beside her.

Velens's laugh rang hollow. "There's no need for ceremony tonight."

"As I am frequently reminded," she answered, gaze lowered but voice edged with frost. "If you'll excuse me, I still have many other guests to greet."

Before he could reply, silver‑haired Este Lize—radiant in a gown and brimming with brazen confidence—slipped to the Prince's side and looped an easy arm through his. "There you are, Velens! I was beginning to think you'd abandoned me." Her smile pivoted to Seraphina, dazzling and predatory. "Oh, Lady Seraphina! How wonderful that you could attend."

Seraphina's pulse hammered. "Well, then if you will excuse me…" she replied lightly, eyes narrowing as the music faded to a distant throb.

Este tittered, the sound like breaking glass. "No need for that! This is the first time we have exchanged words. Don't tell me you are already scared of poor old me. I heard from Velen that you could fight a bear bare-handed… and you are fleeing already? How droll!"

"I believe Este is only teasing," Velens interjected, cheeks flushing with uneasy guilt.

"Teasing?" Este echoed sweetly. "Rather like when someone tried to 'help' the other day and caused such a charming scene. I'm still recovering from the laughter of being assaulted by a mob. I do not know how much you gave that little girl to say such things."

Seraphina closed her eyes, and when she spoke next, her voice was velvet stretched over steel. "Velens, this is the third time you have allowed me to be mocked in public, to suffer baseless accusations. Tell me plainly—are you merely amusing yourself with this girl and her fanciful tales? If she is but a plaything to keep your bed warm until our wedding, that, perhaps, I might forgive."

The prince's grey eyes faltered, sliding away from her.

A brittle smile curved Seraphina's lips. "Tell me she's just another pretty distraction you can't keep your hands from? I am generous, Velens, but unlike our self‑proclaimed 'Saint' here, my forgiveness has limits when so openly flaunted in public." The space between them yawned wider than any ballroom floor, and every whispered breath in the hall seemed to hang on what he would say next.

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Velens shifted uneasily between the two young women, looking very much like a man who had stepped onto a dueling piste without a blade.

One by one, more of the ball's attendees began to drift ever closer, drawn in like sharks to blood in the water. It was the kind of spectacle no one dared to miss.

"I would never — I mean, of course I respect you both," he stammered, one hand half‑raised as though he could physically separate the sparks leaping between their gazes.

Este Lize, with her fine gown that she wore with the tell-tale signs of those unused to fine things, tilted her head toward him, then back to Seraphina. "You talk of respect? Respect, is it? Ah, my prince, you have such interesting definitions."

Seraphina's smile was all polite porcelain. "Oh, I merely find it fascinating that someone who never even sat the Meridian entrance examination is standing here tonight. The Church's purse strings must have pulled harder than I realized."

A hush rippled outward. Este's brow arched. "The Church sponsored me, yes. But shall we count how many titled families 'donate' new wings to the Academy so their heirs can stroll through the gates untested?" She gave a bright laugh. "Really, Lady Seraphina, if favoritism is a sin, your pedigree is practically a confession booth."

Several common‑born students snickered; a few nobles bristled. The young noblewoman just laughed, covering her mouth slightly. It was true that her family did donate for a new wing at the Academy, but, well… Seraphina's test results spoke for themselves.

The blonde girl's eyes narrowed. "I only question whether your… patrons understood the standard they were lowering."

"Lowering?" Este echoed, amusement glittering. "Darling, they raised it. I was accepted because I can shape Azuryte Flame—a magic so rare, most professors have only read footnotes about it. And, I can command all of the elements. Talent, not gold, earned my place."

She lifted her hand; a faint cerulean spark flickered across her fingertips before she snuffed it out. Gasps and murmurs swelled.

Velens cleared his throat. "Este, perhaps we—"

"Let her finish, Your Highness," Seraphina said, voice smooth as chilled wine. "I admire the confidence. But raw power without refinement is like a street performer juggling torches—spectacular until the blaze gets away from them."

Este's smile thinned. "And refinement without purpose is as useful as two tails on a dog. But a useless piece of display, a false gilded cage that society calls manners. I'd rather set the sky on fire than polish its bars. But, talking of refinement and manners, Seraphina, did you coach your escort … " she flicked a glance at Hughes, " …on which fork to use, or do you trust his natural instincts?"

A few upper‑form nobles chuckled. Hughes flushed crimson.

Seraphina stepped forward, her heel clicking like a rapier tip on marble. "I would sooner stand beside a man of humble origin and honest heart than someone who wears resentment like fine clothes. Or, for that matter, a philanderer."

Still, part of Este Lize's barb had struck true. Seraphina felt heat rise to her cheeks, but held her poise. All her life, people had tried to keep her in place. To be more. To be anything but what she wanted to be.

"And, one should be careful, Este Lize, when you talk of Fire. Fire has a habit of spreading—often to those least prepared. And, the recent fires were caused by magical flames, or so they say. But, then again, what would I know in my gilded cage?"

This caused some more scandalous tittering as the accusation threaded its way through the crowd.

"Then perhaps Meridian should ensure its halls aren't built of dry straw," Este shot back, squeezing Velens' arm. A declaration of outright war if there ever was one. "Come, Vel, I promised you the first dance."

She guided him toward a growing knot of students and curious nobles who greeted her with cheers. Their circle widened around her like ripples in a pond.