The days leading up to the Grand Ball were a whirlwind of preparation. Lavinia—or rather, Zara—was thrust into a chaotic blur of fittings, etiquette lessons, and endless warnings from the Duchess Dowager. The air in the estate was thick with tension, but Zara couldn't shake the ominous feeling lingering from the note she'd received.
She read it over and over, trying to decipher who could've sent it. A warning like that could mean one of two things: someone wanted her to be careful, or someone wanted to terrify her. Either way, it was working.
System Alert:
Quest Update: Survive the Grand Ball.
Sub-task added: Identify the sender of the note.
Reward: +50 Intelligence Points.
Penalty: Loss of Favorability with Adrian Valmont.
Zara groaned, rubbing her temples. "No pressure or anything."
Her thoughts were interrupted when Clara entered the room, carrying a delicate lavender gown. "Lady Lavinia, this is the final dress. Would you like to try it on?"
Zara glanced at the gown, which shimmered with tiny crystals sewn into the fabric. It was stunning—ethereal, even. But the sight of it only reminded her of the looming event and the danger it held.
"Sure, let's get this over with," Zara muttered.
As Clara helped her into the gown, Zara caught her reflection in the mirror. For a moment, she barely recognized herself. The dress transformed her into someone… regal.
"You look like a princess," Clara said with a small smile.
"More like a sacrificial lamb," Zara replied under her breath.
Later that evening, Zara wandered into the estate's garden, hoping the cool night air would calm her nerves. She wasn't expecting to find Adrian there, leaning against a stone pillar with his arms crossed.
"Following me now?" she asked, trying to mask her unease with sarcasm.
Adrian glanced at her, his expression unreadable. "I could ask you the same."
Zara sighed, folding her arms. "I needed some air. The whole 'future duchess' thing is… a lot."
Adrian's gaze lingered on her for a moment. "You don't have to do this."
Zara blinked. "What?"
"This charade," Adrian said, his voice quieter than usual. "If it's too much, I'll find another way."
For a moment, Zara saw a flicker of something human in him—concern, maybe even guilt. But she quickly shook it off.
"Do you honestly think your enemies will stop if I back out?" she asked. "I might not be thrilled about this, but I'm not stupid. I know what's at stake—for you and for me."
Adrian didn't respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his tone was colder again. "Then don't let them see you as weak. At the ball, you'll need to be more than just convincing. You'll need to be ruthless."
"Ruthless, huh?" Zara smirked. "I'll keep that in mind."
The night of the Grand Ball arrived, and the Valmont carriage rolled through the gates of the Duke of Crestmont's estate. The mansion loomed ahead like a fortress, its windows glowing with golden light. Nobles dressed in their finest spilled out onto the grand staircase, each of them radiating wealth and ambition.
Zara stepped out of the carriage, her arm resting on Adrian's. The weight of a hundred gazes fell on her at once, and she fought the urge to shrink under the scrutiny.
"Smile," Adrian murmured, his voice barely audible. "They're watching."
Zara plastered on a serene smile, her heart pounding in her chest. She felt like an actress stepping onto a stage, the script unwritten and the stakes higher than ever.
Inside, the ballroom was even more dazzling than she'd imagined. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the polished marble floors, and an orchestra played a lilting melody in the corner. The air was thick with the scent of roses and the hum of whispered conversations.
But beneath the glamour, Zara could feel the tension. This wasn't just a ball—it was a battlefield, just as Adrian had warned.
As the night went on, Zara did her best to play the part of a poised and charming duchess-to-be. She exchanged pleasantries with nobles, danced when asked, and avoided drinking anything she hadn't poured herself.
But then she spotted Celeste across the room, her fiery red gown drawing all eyes to her. Celeste caught Zara's gaze and smirked, as if to say, You don't belong here.
"Oh, great," Zara muttered.
Before she could decide whether to confront Celeste or avoid her altogether, a figure stepped into her path. It was a man she didn't recognize, tall and imposing with sharp features and a predatory smile.
"Lady Lavinia," he said smoothly, bowing slightly. "A pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so much about the Duke's fiancée."
Zara forced a polite smile. "The pleasure is mine. And you are?"
"Lord Edric Vayne," he said, his tone dripping with false charm. "An old friend of the Valmont family."
Zara's instincts screamed at her to be careful, but she couldn't afford to make a scene. "It's an honor, Lord Vayne. Are you enjoying the ball?"
"Oh, immensely," he said, his gaze never leaving hers. "Though I must admit, I was curious to see if the rumors about you were true."
"Rumors?" Zara asked, keeping her tone light.
"That you're not quite what you seem," Edric said, his smile sharpening. "But perhaps we can discuss that in private."
Before Zara could respond, Adrian appeared at her side, his expression icy. "Is there a problem here?"
Edric's smile didn't falter, but his eyes darkened. "Not at all, Your Grace. I was simply getting acquainted with your lovely fiancée."
"You've acquainted yourself enough," Adrian said coldly. "Come, Lavinia."
Zara allowed Adrian to lead her away, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Edric wasn't done with her.
As the night wore on, the orchestra struck up a lively waltz, and Adrian extended his hand to Zara.
"Dance with me," he said.
"Do I have a choice?" Zara quipped, though she took his hand anyway.
As they moved across the floor, Zara noticed how the other nobles watched them—some with envy, others with suspicion. Adrian's grip on her waist was firm, his movements effortlessly graceful.
"You handled Edric well," Adrian said quietly.
"Wasn't much to handle," Zara replied.
"Don't underestimate him," Adrian warned. "He's dangerous."
"So are you," Zara shot back.
Adrian's lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. "Good. Remember that."