Suddenly, a young servant approached their table.
"My lord," the servant greeted Lord Zoltar, bowing his head. "My lady," he added, nodding towards Lady Rosamund.
"Yes?" Lord Zoltar asked, a frown crossing his face.
"Now, may I present Beatrix, a slave that has been gifted to the town from the capital?" the servant introduced her. "Her performance promises to be a special gift for all of you."
"Yes, please."
All eyes immediately turned to Gwendolyn, and a hush fell over the dining hall. Lady Rosamund gasped in surprise and horror.
Gwendolyn curtsied, bowing her head in respect. "Good evening, my lord. My lady."
"How beautiful," Lord Zoltar commented, admiring the young slave's features. He pondered how the transformation had turned the slave into such a stunning woman that he almost didn't recognize her. "And what a wonderful gift."
"Thank you, my lord," Gwendolyn replied, keeping her head bowed.
"What is your name again?"
"Beatrix, my lord."
"Beatrix," Lord Zoltar repeated, a smile crossing his lips. "A fitting name."
Gwendolyn nodded in reverence.
"You are indeed a beauty, Beatrix," he added. "Would you honor us with a performance?"
"Of course, my lord," Gwendolyn replied.
Lady Rosamund narrowed her eyes with annoyance. Was her husband flirting with a slave? The thought made her furious, and she vowed to find out the truth.
Gwendolyn stood in the center of the dining hall, the spotlight shining on her. Her hands were trembling as she prepared herself. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, and began to play.
After giving so much thoughts, she planned to start with a solo piano piece accompanied by other instruments. Then, as they played together, she would deliver a dance performance unlike anything they had ever seen before.
She prepared the dance herself at younger age and called it the "Butterfly Dance," a performance that was both gentle and daunting. With delicate movements that echoed the grace of a butterfly, she aimed to captivate the audience with her fluid motions and precise footwork, creating a mesmerizing spectacle on stage.
The "Butterfly Dance" was not just a performance; it was a deadly tactic. Designed to lull her enemies into a deep slumber through the subtle release of poisons, it ensured they would be carried away unaware, making them vulnerable to her strike. However, she lacked the resources needed to prepare the poisons and execute the plan fully.
With her heart beating wildly in her chest, Gwendolyn stepped into the performance stage. She couldn't believe her eyes. The room was packed with people, all waiting eagerly for the show to begin. As the servants finished preparing the stage, Gwendolyn took a deep breath and walked up to the piano.
Lord Zoltar and Lady Rosamund were sitting in a raised box at the back of the room, watching the proceedings with interest. As Gwendolyn approached the piano, she could feel their gaze on her, and her pulse quickened.
She took her place at the piano, her hands trembling slightly as she positioned them on the keys. Beginning with pianissimo, her fingers moved gracefully over the ivory keys. The music gently filled the room, capturing the audience's attention. As she continued, the intensity grew, reaching into a powerful crescendo that resonated with emotion and skill.
Then she stopped abruptly, following her instructions, and the lights were dimmed as she prepared for her dance performance. The audience gasped audibly in anticipation, eager to see what would unfold next in the darkness.
In the middle of the stage, she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the stares. Her heart was thudding, and her palms were sweaty. She felt like she was going to pass out. Taking a deep breath, she slowly opened her eyes, and the music began.
She started dancing, her body moving with grace and elegance. She swayed her arms and hips in a hypnotic rhythm, her feet stepping lightly and precisely on the floor. Her movements were fluid and precise, perfectly matching the music.
Her dance captivated the audience with her beauty and the graceful flow of her movements.
All the audience members were captivated by the dance, except one. Lady Rosamund observed Gwendolyn with her dark eyes. The sight of Gwendolyn's dance performance caused her to recall her own past experiences. She felt a mixture of emotions, but most prominently, a sense of bittersweet memory.
Lady Rosamund remembered how she was once the talk of the town, a stunning dancer and musician with a voice that could melt hearts. She had been the most desirable woman in the kingdom, a true beauty. Despite everything, tonight her husband had overlooked her, even daring to flirt with a younger woman right before her eyes.
Her heart ached as she watched Gwendolyn dancing on the stage, a painful reminder of what she had lost. And yet, the girl's dance was also a source of joy, a reminder of the good times when she had once been adored and admired.
Lady Rosamund clenched her fists, a wave of anger coursing through her veins. She could not let the young girl steal the attention of the entire crowd. Not when she had the power to put an end to this farce once and for all.
The music reached its climax, and Gwendolyn's dance intensified.
Gwendolyn danced her heart out, trying to focus on the performance.
But, it was difficult, especially when she could feel Lord Zoltar's eyes boring into her, following her every move.
The music rose to a fever pitch, and Gwendolyn's movements became more frantic and erratic.
As the final notes sounded, the audience erupted in applause.
Gwendolyn bowed and rushed off the stage, her heart pounding.
Lord Zoltar watched her go, his gaze intense and unwavering. He was intrigued by her and wanted to know more about her. He would make sure to ask his servants to gather more information about her later.
Meanwhile, Lady Rosamund's anger boiled over. She became so furious that she devised a plan to ruin the slave. And then, a wicked idea struck her.
What if she swapped her daughter for the slave?