Chapter 443: The Third Elimination Ball

Chapter 442: The Third Elimination Ball

Lyria’s POV

The night of the elimination ball had arrived at last, and I found myself standing in a gown of deep sapphire silk, my hair arranged in a fashion of considerable elaboration, one that had required no less than two hours of my maids’ labour to achieve. The storm had raged for three days entire, confining every soul within the castle walls, and it was not until that very morning that it had finally ceased. The world beyond the windows appeared battered and bruised — branches torn from their trees, shutters hanging askew upon their hinges, the cobblestones glistening with melted hail — and the servants had been at their labours since the earliest hour of the morning.

The ballroom, though yet filled with nobles from near and far, was not so crowded as it might ordinarily have been. Many who should otherwise have attended had been delayed by the storm, their carriages quite unable to travel through such treacherous conditions.

I had danced first with Baron Redwick, and then with Earl Hawthorne, before the King rose from his throne upon the dais, whereupon the music ceased at once, and every soul present turned towards him.

I moved at the same moment as Jacinta, and we came to stand just beneath the dais.

Then, as was customary, the suitors were called forth one by one.

Each name echoed through the ballroom, and each gentleman stepped forward in turn, coming to stand in a line before the dais. I watched them assemble, marking the manner in which they carried themselves, confidence in some, wariness in others.

Once every formality had concluded, Marquess Rowan Blackvale was announced as eliminated. I confess I was not surprised, and found myself rather pleased that he should be the one dismissed.

But then I noticed something among a particular few of the gentlemen present. They wore small smirks upon their countenances — subtle, but unmistakable.

I wondered, then, whether they had perhaps arranged this outcome themselves.

The thought sent a warmth through me I could not quite account for, and I felt my own lips twitch in response. Then I blinked, and the smirks had vanished, replaced by expressions of perfect neutrality. I could not be certain anyone else present had marked it.

The King then gestured towards the scrying veil, positioned at the far end of the ballroom. It shimmered into life, displaying the popularity poll conducted throughout the whole of the competition.

I read the names, my heart quickening with each one.

Lucian came first, and appeared genuinely astonished, his blue eyes widening as he beheld the result. Earl Hawthorne followed closely in second place.

Duke Valenridge stood third, the first time he had made it to top three. I glanced towards him, anticipating some reaction, but he appeared entirely indifferent, as though the poll concerned him not in the least. His gaze remained fixed upon the veil, yet there was no emotion whatsoever in his countenance, no indication that he cared one way or the other where he might place.

Duke Thorncrest came fourth, and Baron Redwick fifth.

I continued down the list until I discovered Corvin’s name.

Tenth.

I turned, quite unable to help myself, and beheld the Marquess’s expression. It was icy — cold enough, I daresay, to freeze the very air about him. His jaw was set tight, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes now burning with a fury only barely suppressed, while I felt no small measure of glee at seeing him fallen so low.

The top five held a considerable gap over the others, as though they occupied some league entirely their own.

I held back the gleeful laugh threatening to spill from me, and schooled my countenance into proper composure, but then I perceived a gaze fixed upon me — Duke Thorncrest, his eyes moving swiftly towards Corvin, and then back to me, his lips twitching with barely restrained amusement.

I was obliged to look away, that the laugh might not escape me entirely, for there could be no doubt of it — he, too, understood precisely how glad I was of this outcome. Perhaps he, too, felt some measure of that same gladness. Oh, whom was I deceiving? I felt entirely certain he did.

Just then, the King cleared his throat.

"Ordinarily," he said, "this should be the moment at which every soul present is informed of the nature of the next stage of this competition."

He paused, and I felt every suitor candidate turn his full attention upon him, their bodies stilling, their eyes fixed upon his countenance.

The King continued.

"There is, however, no need to speak of what might once have been intended, for a circumstance has arisen that demands our fullest attention. As you are all well aware, a hail storm has raged these past three days, of a kind not witnessed within the capital in living memory."

"It is most unusual for such a storm to occur within these walls," the King said, "and there are towns and territories under the Crown’s own rule that have suffered severely from its effects. Reports have reached us of damage to homes, to crops, to the very livelihoods of those who dwell in these places."

"For this reason, the next stage of this competition shall centre upon the rendering of aid to certain towns particularly affected by this storm, towns presently in considerable need. This portion of the competition shall determine whether you possess what is required to lead and not alone, but in company with others. For the towns to which you shall render aid number but two, and the Moon candidates shall stand at the head of this whole undertaking."

Just then he turned towards the Queen, who took up the matter, her gaze cold.

"This stage shall last a fortnight, and at its conclusion there shall be held a debate, centring upon your capacity for governance. And once again, the princesses shall be very much involved in the proceedings. They shall lead this debate, speaking as fluently as they are able though they shall have at least three further partners at their side, drawn from their respective groups."

The humour vanished from me at once, my ears catching sharply upon her words. ’Speaking fluently’. I knew, without any need of being told, that those particular words had been aimed directly at myself.