Chapter 111. New Year’s Banquet Part 2

Gathering Hall, Hollowland Viscounty, Lord’s Castle

"Viscountess Ironwood, would you care to join us for next month's reading salon at the Goldance Dukedom? Ah... apologies, I forgot you do not favor attending such demanding social events, right?" one of the noble ladies asked, her gaze pointedly dropping to Francesca’s leg and cane.

Francesca simply nodded, her smile serene and unbothered. "I would love to, but you see, I do not think the provincial literature there will interest me." She tapped her cane against the marble floor a few times in a rhythmic, dismissive tempo. "My father always used to send me the most expensive, exclusive books from the Capital every season. He only stopped recently due to the distance and the difficulty of winter travel."

"So..." the ladies attempted to recover, but Francesca smoothly cut them off.

"However, he will be starting the shipments again very soon. After all, with our new cable carts, we are able to effortlessly import far more luxurious goods."

She silenced the gossiping women in an instant. They offered stiff nods and scurried away, crossing paths with a mustached Baron who eagerly approached the couple next.

"Our sales to the Ironwood Viscounty have been higher than ever before! You must be truly proud of your new cable cart system, Lord Miller," the Baron praised, swirling the wine in his glass. "I had the chance to see it up close recently."

He is fishing for information on the cable cart’s technology... Miller smiled faintly and took a measured sip of his wine, glancing sideways at Francesca. She took the cue instantly. "Of course. Just as your export prices have been the highest they have ever been," she smiled, finishing the verbal jab flawlessly. "You must be truly proud of the mutual trade agreement."

"As my wife said, we have had the chance to experience those prices firsthand as well," Miller finished confidently with a simple smile.

"Eh..." The Baron hesitated, his greedy smile faltering. "I... I should go and greet the others over there," he muttered, quickly walking away with his head down in defeat.

"Hah... they haven’t made a single inclination to contact us. They are just passively mingling with the other guests," Francesca observed quietly, keeping her eyes fixed on the Church envoys across the hall.

Miller nodded slowly. "Are they just being overly cautious, or is this a psychological trick to force us to approach them first?"

"It cannot be a trick, because they don’t gain any leverage by doing that. So it can only mean..." Francesca began, a dawn of understanding lighting up her golden eyes. "...they are being watched," Miller finished for her. "Which explains the extreme caution."

Guest Chambers, Hollowland Viscounty, Lord’s Castle

Viscount Hollowland roughly dragged his daughter into the dimly lit guest room.

"Stay right here on the bed. I will deal with Lady Francesca downstairs and personally send Lord Miller up here." He shot her a venomous glare before turning to leave. "Don’t you dare mess this up... Do you understand?" he threatened, slamming the heavy wooden door shut behind him.

Left standing completely alone in the silent room, Lady Nina's polite mask crumbled, replaced by despair. Moving like a mechanical doll, she unlaced her heavy silk gown, letting it pool onto the floor. She pulled the elaborate pins from her hair, letting the coils fall loose over her shoulders. Clad only in her thin white undergarments, she climbed onto the center of the massive bed and sat perfectly still, staring blankly down at her trembling hands.

A deeply pained expression flickered back and forth across her eyes. The only sound in the suffocating silence was the rhythmic ticking of the antique grandfather clock against the wall.

Tick…

Tock…

Tick…

Tock...

The world slowly began to feel detached, as if her life were merely a stage play and she was looking at it from the outside. She was not really here. She was just a silent audience member, helplessly watching a grand tragedy unfold. The theater seats around her were completely empty, but that was all that mattered.

She didn't have to be on the stage. She just had to sit in the audience; never interfering, never questioning anything, just watching the miserable act play out to its inevitable end. That was what she had been able to do. That was all she could do.

"I guess I am interrupting, aren't I?"

A sudden, casual voice echoed with the heavy bedroom door clicked shut, instantly shattering the fragile, dissociative illusion in Nina’s mind. She gasped, her head snapping toward the door to see the owner of that unmistakable voice.

“Y-Your Highness?!” she stammered, her heart hammering in her chest as the dim light caught his hazel eyes and messy winter hair.

Prince Vadim leaned against the closed door, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. “I did say I admired your beauty, Lady Nina, but to be confronted with such an intimate display right away... I am truly honored.”

Realizing she was sitting there in nothing but her sheer undergarments, Nina let out a stifled squeak. She instantly dove under the heavy winter blankets, pulling them all the way up to her chin as her entire face burned a furious, humiliating red.

“W-what are you doing in this room...?” she asked, her voice trembling under her breath. “You left the balcony just before I did...”

Despite her panicked whisper, Prince Vadim heard her perfectly. He slowly crossed the room, his heavy boots echoing on the floorboards. “Isn’t that the question I should be asking you? Why are you in my room?”

“Your room?” Nina blinked in utter confusion, the blanket slipping slightly from her bare shoulders. “Wasn’t this chamber assigned to the Ironwood Viscount and his wife...?”

Her voice trailed off in dawning horror.

Prince Vadim chuckled, casually pulling up a plush chair and sitting directly across from the edge of the bed. “We switched our rooms this morning. Lady Francesca was quite uncomfortable having to use those impossibly steep stairs your father insisted on showcasing, you see.”

“T-that...” Nina began to hyperventilate, the blood completely draining from her already pale face. The trap was ruined. Everything was ruined.

“As for why I am up here,” Prince Vadim continued smoothly, crossing his long legs, “I was just coming to fetch a new crystal wine glass from my luggage, seeing as someone ruthlessly threw the one I brought all the way from the Imperial Palace off a balcony.”

Nina’s panic intensified into a suffocating dread. Her father's reckless, idiotic scheme had just inadvertently targeted an Imperial Prince. The political fallout of this "bed trick" would not result in an alliance; it would result in treason.

“So, like I said, I really should be the one asking,” Prince Vadim murmured, the playful lilt suddenly vanishing from his tone. “What exactly are you doing waiting in my bed, Lady Nina?”

She scrambled backward against the heavy wooden headboard, throwing off the blankets and standing up on the far side of the mattress, desperate to bolt. She knew she had to warn her father before he barged in with the other nobles.

But Vadim was infinitely faster. He stood up in a single, fluid motion, effortlessly stepping around the bed and blocking her only path to the door.

“Let us stop playing these unnecessary games, shall we?” he asked softly.

His signature, boisterous smile returned to his handsome face, but his hazel eyes were as cold and calculating as a cornered predator's. Trapped against the cold stone wall with nowhere left to run, Nina could do nothing but swallow hard.