Beatrice had faced death before.
The slow, creeping kind where your body withers away while your mind stays painfully aware. The kind where you hear your best friend reading to you, trying to pretend everything is fine when you both know it isn't.
This, however, was a new kind of death.
Magnus Da Ville stood before her, arms crossed, his cold gaze pinning her in place. He looked exactly like his novel description. A tall, broad-shouldered warrior with a face that said 'I kill people for fun.'
His silver hair, the same shade as their father's, was tied back messily, and his sharp features were set in an expression of pure menace.
He looked like a villain.
Correction. He was a villain. A war-loving madman who only cared about two things. His family and battle.
And right now, all his focus was on her.
"You're awake," he said. His voice was deep and sharp, like a blade being unsheathed.
Beatrice swallowed. "Yeah."
Magnus narrowed his eyes. "Then explain."
She blinked. "Explain what?"
"Who made you cry?"
Beatrice blinked again. "Huh?"
Magnus exhaled harshly, dragging a hand down his face. "I heard from the maids. Your eyes were red when you woke up."
Oh. That.
That was just her having a full existential crisis.
Beatrice tried to think of a reasonable response. Nothing came to mind. She had never dealt with an overprotective big brother before.
"It was... no one?" she said hesitantly.
Magnus' expression darkened. Wrong answer.
His fingers twitched near the hilt of his sword. "I'll burn this entire palace to the ground."
Beatrice choked. "What? No! What is wrong with you?"
Magnus scowled. "If someone made you cry, they die. That's how it works."
That's not how it works!
Beatrice pressed her fingers to her temple. "Okay. First of all, no one made me cry. Second, you can't just go around threatening people."
Magnus stared at her like she had said something offensive.
"That's literally my job."
She groaned.
This was bad. Magnus was too aggressive and too devoted to family. If she handled this wrong, he'd actually cause problems. The Da Ville family was already feared by the royal family. If Magnus made a scene, things would only get worse.
She forced a smile. "Look. I'm fine. You don't have to kill anyone."
Magnus didn't look convinced. "If you say so."
Beatrice sighed in relief.
"...For now."
Her relief died instantly.
Magnus' sharp eyes studied her for another moment. "You're acting different."
Beatrice froze.
Magnus was dangerous, but he wasn't dumb. In the novel, he had an almost unnatural sense for detecting lies and deceit. That's what made him such a terrifying figure on the battlefield.
She had to be careful.
"I hit my head when I collapsed," she said smoothly. "So I might be a little off."
Magnus stared at her for an uncomfortable amount of time.
Then, finally, he shrugged. "Whatever. Just don't do it again."
Like she collapsed on purpose?
Before she could respond, Magnus turned toward the door. "I'll let Father know you're awake."
Beatrice flinched. Oh no. Not the Duke.
Conrad Da Ville was even scarier than Magnus. The man was stone-cold, ruthless, and the only reason the royal family hadn't executed their bloodline yet.
She was not ready to deal with him.
"Actually," she blurted out, "can we not tell Father yet?"
Magnus raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
Think. Think.
"Uh… I just need a little more time to recover. He'll only worry."
Magnus stared at her for a long time. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. But don't take too long. He's already furious about the palace selection."
Beatrice perked up. "About that."
She cleared her throat, carefully preparing her next words.
"How about we just... not go?"
Silence.
Magnus slowly turned back to her, expression unreadable. "Not go?"
Beatrice nodded eagerly. "Right! We don't need to go. It's pointless, isn't it? I mean, why would the great Beatrice Da Ville lower herself to compete for some prince's favor?Ridiculous!"
Magnus stared at her.
Beatrice smiled wider.
"...No," Magnus said flatly.
Her smile dropped. "No?"
"You're going," Magnus said. "You don't have a choice."
Beatrice gaped. "Why not? We don't even like the royal family!"
Magnus crossed his arms. "Exactly. That's why we're going."
That made no sense.
Beatrice rubbed her forehead. "Magnus. I'm trying to help us avoid conflict here."
"You're not avoiding anything. We were invited. If we refuse, the royal family will see it as a direct insult."
Beatrice opened her mouth, then shut it. Damn it. He was right.
In the original novel, the palace forced Beatrice to participate. Their family was too powerful. If they refused, it could be seen as an act of war.
She groaned, flopping back against her pillows. "So you're saying I have to go to the palace?"
"Yes."
"And attend the selection?"
"Yes."
"And be civil to the crown prince?"
Magnus' expression darkened. "...Fine. But only because killing him would be a hassle."
Beatrice sighed. "I'm doomed."
Magnus patted her head awkwardly. "If you do get in trouble, I'll break you out."
That wasn't comforting.
As Magnus finally left the room, Beatrice stared at the ceiling, her mind racing.
She had tried to avoid the palace selection and failed instantly.
Which meant there was only one plan left.
Survive it.
Even if it meant playing nice with the royal family.
Even if it meant staying far away from Crown Prince Francois.
Even if it meant completely changing her fate.
Beatrice exhaled slowly. "Okay. I can do this."
She had to.
Because she refuse to follow the script.