Beatrice had never wanted to disappear more in her life.
Standing in the center of the ballroom, she stared at Francois like he had just sentenced her to death. Which, honestly, he kind of had.
This was supposed to be a simple noble lesson, something she could suffer through in silence while staying far, far away from royal attention.
Instead, she was about to waltz with the crown prince in front of everyone.
The nobles were already whispering.
"Did His Highness choose Lady Beatrice?"
"No way. She must have forced him somehow."
"Maybe he's testing her."
Beatrice's soul left her body.
She wanted to protest. She wanted to run. She wanted to swap bodies with literally anyone else in the room.
But Francois was already leading her into position.
His grip was firm but controlled. His blue eyes remained unreadable.
"Focus," he said flatly.
Beatrice mentally screamed.
"Your Highness," she whispered sharply. "This is a mistake."
"Perhaps." His expression didn't change. "But you're already here."
Beatrice swallowed a curse.
And then the music began.
She took a deep breath.
Left foot forward. Right foot back. Step, spin, step—
She immediately stepped on his foot. Beatrice froze in horror.
The music continued playing. The nobles continued watching. Francois said nothing.
She slowly lifted her gaze, bracing for cold fury, maybe even an insult.
Instead, he simply sighed.
Beatrice stared. "You're not angry?"
"You warned me this was a mistake," he said, tone dry.
Beatrice almost laughed. So he did have a sense of humor.
She clenched her jaw and tried again.
Step, spin—wrong direction.
Step, turn—too fast.
Her foot collided with his ankle again. Francois exhaled sharply, tightening his grip to keep her steady.
Beatrice felt the nobles' stares burning into her skin.
She gritted her teeth. "I'm usually very good at moving."
Francois tilted his head slightly. "Are you?"
Beatrice scowled. "Yes. Just not in… structured ways."
"Ah. So, you're skilled at chaos, not order."
"Exactly."
Francois huffed a quiet breath that almost... almost sounded like amusement.
Beatrice tried again.
This time, when she misstepped, Francois smoothly adjusted his hold, guiding her movements with quiet precision.
Beatrice blinked.
…Wait.
He was actually helping her?
She hesitated, testing another step. He adjusted effortlessly, barely breaking rhythm.
"Relax," he murmured. "You're thinking too much."
Beatrice frowned. "Dancing is basically math with your feet. Of course I have to think."
Francois looked like he had no idea what to do with that answer.
"Just follow my lead," he said, voice calmer than before.
Beatrice hesitated.
But fine. Fine. If she was trapped in this dance anyway, she might as well let him guide her.
So she stopped thinking.
And for a few seconds, it actually worked.
Her steps became lighter, smoother. The turns less painful. She was actually waltzing.
And then someone scoffed loudly.
Beatrice barely had time to process the sound before the music ended.
She quickly stepped away from Francois, ignoring the way her pulse was racing.
The nobles were still staring. Some gossiped behind their fans. Others whispered openly.
And one person was very clearly not pleased.
Priscilla Montague.
Beatrice barely had time to brace herself before Lila stormed over, eyes burning with rage.
"Unbelievable," she hissed. "Lady Beatrice, what exactly do you think you're doing?"
Beatrice blinked. "Uh. Failing at dancing?"
Lila did not look amused.
"You've been acting strange from the moment you arrived at the palace," Lila snapped. "And now you're dancing with my brother?"
Beatrice sighed. "Trust me, I didn't ask for this."
Lila glared at Francois next. "Brother, you chose her?"
Francois did not react. "She was unpaired."
Beatrice mentally screamed. Say something better than that!
The way Lila's expression twisted, it was clear that explanation was not good enough.
"You must be joking," Lila muttered. "First, she humiliates herself at the banquet. Then, she becomes some sort of court jester at the tea party. And now you're entertaining her?"
Beatrice stiffened. Okay, ouch.
Francois did not reply.
Lila scoffed. "Honestly, I don't know what's going on with you, Lady Beatrice, but if you're trying to win favor, it's pathetic."
Beatrice opened her mouth, then shut it.
There was no point in arguing. No matter what she said, Lila wouldn't believe her.
Besides, Johanna was already stepping forward, placing a calming hand on Lila's arm.
"Lila, perhaps we should let it go," Johanna said gently.
Beatrice almost sighed in relief. At least one person here wasn't out for blood.
Lila scowled but allowed Johanna to pull her away.
Beatrice exhaled.
That… could have been worse.
Probably.
She turned to Francois, ready to make some sarcastic remark about how this was all his fault.
But Francois wasn't looking at her anymore.
He was watching Lila and Johanna, his expression unreadable.
Beatrice frowned.
Huh.
Was that… annoyance?
Before she could analyze it further, the prince finally turned back to her.
"You did well," he said simply.
Beatrice snorted. "We both know that's a lie."
Francois didn't reply. Instead, he just walked away.
Beatrice watched him go, still confused.
He had no reason to help her. He had no reason to keep looking at her. And yet… he was.
Beatrice exhaled slowly.
This was becoming a problem.