"You little wretch! What did you say?!"
Adelheid barely had a moment to react before her mother's fingers dug into her arm, nails pressing sharply into her skin.
She winced. "M-mothe—"
"Did you do something to displease His Majesty?!" Lady Evelyn hissed, eyes blazing with fury. "Goodness sake, he at least spared the other girls glances! But the moment he saw you, he—he—" Her voice cut off, the humiliation tightening around her throat.
Adelheid's lips parted, but no words came out.
She had no idea of what had just happened herself.
The king had been watching each lady with contemplation, taking his time as if carefully considering his choices.
Yet when her name had been called—when she had stepped forward—his gaze had lingered, longer than the others. Long enough that a hush had settled over the crowd.
But then—
"Rather frail, won't you say?"
He had spoken the words so simply and just like that, he had turned away, offering her no further glance.
The entire ballroom had fallen into an awkward silence. A few ladies exchanged glances before stifling their giggles behind their fans, some nobles merely sighed, as if this was expected. A few young men cast her pitying looks before turning away, uninterested.
Adelheid clenched her hands by her sides.
'Rather frail?' She swallowed hard, her jaw tightening. 'As if my worth was measured by the strength of my limbs.'
She had spent years perfecting her posture, her grace, her manners—every aspect of herself meant to reflect the image of an ideal noblewoman and yet, with a single remark, she had been reduced to nothing more than an afterthought.
Lady Evelyn's grip on her arm tightened. "Answer me you foolish girl! What did you do to disgrace yourself?!"
Adelheid inhaled sharply. She did nothing, nothing at all. Not a word had left her lips.
"I—"
Before she could respond, a deep voice, filled with amusement suddenly cut through.
"My, my, Baroness Montclair, such a sight this is."
Adelheid and Lady Evelyn turned swiftly. Standing before them was Lord Edgar Whitmore, a man of middle years draped in silk, his dark beard neatly trimmed and his fat stomach tucked tightly beneath his tailored coat.
Lady Evelyn, despite her sour mood, forced a stiff smile. "Lord Whitmore."
Lord Edgar's gaze swept over the dance floor, where conversations had resumed—though not without stolen glances in their direction. "That was quite the moment, wouldn't you say?" He stroked his beard, as though considering something.
"I must admit, it has been quite some time since I've seen a lady dismissed so quickly." He added.
Adelheid arched a brow, momentarily taken aback by the blunt insult.
"What precisely is it you're trying to say Lord Whitmore?" Lady Evelyn asked, her tone rigid.
Lord Edgar smirked. "Merely stating an observation My Lady. He left rather quickly, almost as if His Majesty had seen a ghost." He tilted his head slightly. "Or perhaps something more.. unappealing."
Adelheid's fingers curled into the folds of her gown.
Lady Evelyn's brows twitched, but her expression remained composed. Instead, she exhaled sharply and changed the subject. "Where is.." She glanced around. "Laurence?"
Lord Edgar's smirk faltered, only for a moment, but then with ease, he corrected. "Julius. Lord Julius Whitmore."
His gaze shifted to Adelheid. "As it happens, my heir is of marriageable age now. A bright, capable young man."
Adelheid's lips pressed into a thin line. Bright? Capable? She had been in Lord Julius' presence. If there were two words that did not belong to him, it was those.
She had met him once before during a summer outing arranged by the nobles, he had played chess with another lord's son, loosing every single round, yet still insisting he played brilliantly, claiming that true strategy was not about winning—but about confusing his opponent.
Lady Evelyn's forced smile dropped completely. "I am in search of a husband for my daughter, Lord Whitmore. Not a man who can barely read."
Lord Edgar's smirk wavered. "What do you mean?"
Lady Evelyn tilted her head slightly. "Well, I have heard that despite being of age, despite having an inheritance waiting for him, Lord Julius still remains under your careful roof. One must wonder why."
"Perhaps because I prefer my son close."
Lady Evelyn hummed, as if considering that. "Or perhaps because you do not wish to accept the fact that your son is a dullard, who of course would not last a minute surviving on his own."
Adelheid's brows lifted slightly. Her mother's words were sharp, cruel even, but they were not entirely false.
A muscle in Lord Edgar's jaw twitched. His fingers curled into a fist, the smirk on his face now completely gone.
After a tense pause, he let out a slow breath. Then, with a sharp glance, he said. "You know quite too many words for a woman, don't you think?"
Lady Evelyn smiled. "Well, what can I say? My husband earns so much that he finds it within his means to purchase the finest books for me."
Lord Edgar was silent for a moment. His fingers twitched before he raised a hand to wave dismissively in the air. "Well, baroness, do let me know when you're ready to lower your standards."
And with that, he turned sharply on his heel and strode off.
Adelheid sighed and adjusted uncomfortably in the tight corset, suppressing the urge to rip it off. The gown was beautiful, undoubtedly, but the way it constricted her movements felt more like a cage than a garment.
She had already known tonight would be dreadful, but she had not expected to be humiliated in front of the entire court.
Still, perhaps it was for the best.
Yes, the shame stung—how could it not? But if, by some impossible chance, the king had chosen her.. Would she have even wanted that?
She doubted it.
People spoke of queens, painting them as powerful, respected figures. But in reality? A queen was meant to yield great responsibility, only to be stripped of it the moment the crown was placed upon her head.
She would be dressed in silks, in gold, made to smile and nod on command—then discarded, like a doll placed back on its shelf after the festivities ended.
Her only true duty? To birth the king's heirs. That was it and that was not the life she wanted.
She should not even be here at all.
If not for this ridiculous event, she would have been at the grand library this evening, attending the annual gathering on the core of historical texts—an event scholars and intellectuals from across the Kingdom traveled miles to attend.
But, of course, her mother had thought otherwise.
"A library? Really Adelheid?" Lady Evelyn had scoffed when she first mentioned it. "You have been invited to a royal ball, where His Majesty himself will select his queen and you would rather sit in a room filled with dust and old men?"
"They are scholars." Adelheid had pleaded. "And it is not just books, mother. It is something worth one's time, beyond beneficial one might say, people travel miles for this event."
Her mother had merely shaken her head, already unimpressed. "Well, you will not be one of them."
Adelheid had turned then, searching for her stepfather's support. She had seen him indulge in her younger brother's interests before, even allowing him to sit in on business discussions. Surely, he would understand.
"Father—"
"You will listen to your mother." He had said, barely looking up from his papers. "There will be other library gatherings but not another chance at securing this family's standing."
And that had been the end of it.
So, really, had she lost anything at all?
Finally exiting the castle, the carriage rocked gently over the roads, but neither mother nor daughter uttered a single word.
Lady Evelyn sat with her jaw tight and gaze fixed forward as though willing herself not to acknowledge Adelheid's presence.
Adelheid, on her part, did not press her luck. She merely folded her arms before her and turned her attention to the passing lanterns outside.
As the carriage came to a halt before their manor, the footman swiftly stepped forward to open the door, allowing Lady Evelyn to step out first, followed by Adelheid— both entering the house without a word.
Lady Evelyn exhaled sharply as she removed her gloves, striding toward her favored chair in the living area.
"Well." She let out a dry chuckle. "Was that not the most spectacular display?" She pressed a hand to her temple. "To think I spent weeks ensuring your gown was tailored to perfection, overseeing every mannerism to ensure you carried yourself with the utmost poise—only for you to be dismissed before so much as a dance!"
Adelheid, standing near the far end of the room, did not respond. She merely folded her arms, gaze lowered slightly. She had no words to offer, nor did she believe any would be received well.
Just as Lady Evelyn parted her lips to speak further, hurried footsteps approached and a maid entered out of breath.
"My Lady!" The maid bowed quickly. "A visitor."
Lady Evelyn let out a bored sigh, waving a hand dismissively in the air. "Whoever it is may return tomorrow. It is far too late for idle calls."
"My Lady.." The maid interjected, head still lowered. "It—it is a Royal guard."
Adelheid's head lifted.
A royal guard?
Lady Evelyn straightened immediately, her former fatigue vanishing in an instant. "A royal guard?" She asked, lips instantly curling into a grin. "Then what are you waiting for? Let him in at once!"
The maid hesitated, fingers twisting in the fabric of her apron. "I—I beg your pardon, My Lady, but he was instructed only to deliver this." She lifted a sealed envelope with both hands, stepping forward to present it.
Lady Evelyn's expression immediately changed to that of disappointment. "What a shame." She waved a hand. "Well, let us not waste time. Read it aloud."
The maid gave a small nod, carefully breaking the seal before unfolding the parchment. Clearing her throat, she began to read.
"Unto the noble house of The Montclairs.." She began, her voice steadying itself. "His Majesty, extends his words and greetings."
Adelheid's brows furrowed. A letter.. directly from His Majesty? Why would the King personally write to them? Especially to nobles of their rank?
The only logical explanation for a royal summon, especially one bearing the King's seal, was that he intended to appoint a male member of the family to an official position.
"It is with reconsideration and altered judgment that His Majesty hath had a change of heart and now writes to make a formal request—"
The maid paused, eyes widening slightly in bewilderment.
Lady Evelyn's patience snapped. "Finish it!"
The maid flinched slightly before hastily continuing.
"—to make a formal request for the hand of your daughter, Lady Adelheid Montclair, in marriage."
Adelheid's brows instantly knotted together in displeasure.
A proposal? Hadn't he been the one who blatantly rejected her in front of everyone?!
Lady Evelyn, on the other hand, stood frozen with her jaw agape. Her lips parting as if to speak but her words came out incoherent.
She grasped for air. Emotion after emotion crashed into her—shock, disbelief, elation.
"I-I.. M-m—"
And then, she collapsed to the floor.