'She looks like she is about to cry. Poor thing,' Livia finds herself thinking as Amelia stands in the crowd alone.
Livia ignores how unsarcastic that thought was.
A large hand circles her waist, bringing her attention back on the Crown Prince. The music picks back up as she places her hand on Prince Rodale's shoulder. He doesn't pull her closer, in fact, he keeps as much distance between their bodies without coming off as rude. Livia should be offended, but she isn't.
'He's only a boy. What interest do I have in him anyway?'
Her brows wrinkle at the thought. They were the same age. What was she even thinking about?
"My those two are perfect for each other," A woman says loudly in the crowd.
"Yes, the King chose the Crown Prince fiancé well. No doubt Lady Livia has gotten the proper education unlike some," An older woman says, her eyes on Amelia.
"Lady Livia is perfect for his highness. Anyone else is just deluding themselves."
That was Maria, one of Livia's many friends.
"Honestly, what kind of shameless thing walks in on the arm of his highness knowing full well that he is already engaged to Lady Livia?"
Madeline's voice carries even over the music.
Livia smirks.
The tide has turned.
From the corner of her eye, Livia watches as Amelia shrinks in on herself before making a hasty retreat to the empty buffet table on the other side of the room, her face red.
To her irritation, the prince's head turns to watch her go, his eyebrows creasing.
"Your highness, am I boring you?" Livia barely resists digging her nails into a strong shoulder. The last time she did that to a dancing partner, her mother went ballistic and the punishment was not worth the few seconds of satisfaction.
"Of course not, Miss Livia." The words were spoken automatically and without a hint of sincerity. The Prince's eyes still follow the girl, and not once did they flicker away, even when he was talking to her.
That, more than anything, is what angers her.
That girl had barely entered the Academy this year, and in a matter of weeks, she snatched the attention of Livia's untouchable and unflappable fiancé. The moment she walked into the room; Amelia is all he could see. Even when he was in the middle of a conversation with Livia. It was grating. It was rude. It was unfair.
Livia wasn't in love with the Crown Prince.
Livia had no idea what the hell love had anything to do with honoring the contract their parents had written up and agreed on for the future of the country. Couldn't that foolish Crown Prince Rodale see that some things were more important? This has nothing to do with Livia, or even him, but the kingdom, no the country as a whole.
She would admit that she was a selfish bitch who only looked after her own wellbeing. She would admit to being petty, arrogant, and all the above, but even she knew where to draw the line. Unlike the Crown Prince, she didn't have the luxury of failing. Either she succeeded or she hanged herself in atonement for failing her family. She had literally been born for the sole sake of becoming the fiancé of his highness. Her own mother would have killed her in the womb if she couldn't have been of later use; worth the trouble and risk of pregnancy.
Livia had thought, out of everyone, Crown Prince Rodale had understood. His own upbringing was similar to hers.
They were both tools.
But then Amelia Margret Reeve had shown up, and suddenly nothing mattered but her.
And just like that, first dance between the Crown Prince and his fiancé comes to an unclimactic end. The crowd claps politely as the two of them part after bowing respectfully.