.....
A week or so had passed since Lyanna began he training, or rather torture, with Catherine. Catherine's method of training was simply appointing a governess to to do the job and criticizing Lyanna's every movement.
Simply put, training was hell to Lyanna. The only time it was mildly less irritating was when Catherine wasn't around since she had other noble activities to attend.
But even when times like these came, the governess took it upon herself to make sure Lyanna felt like Catherine was there. She mocked her, spat at her, flogged her and so much more that it wasn't training anymore but punishment.
There was even a time when she was being taught, or reminded on etiquettes at tea parties and invitations. She did as the governess instructed and picked up her cup full of hot tea, her movements were flawless and elegant.
But instead of the governess praising her or something, she kicked Lyanna's chair which made her tilt the cup and all the hot tea poured all over Lyanna's dress and hands, scalding her.
As if that wasn't enough, the governess began scolding and insulting her, calling her a brute who couldn't be taught and other names of some sort. This was all because a little amount of tea had also splashed on her dress, causing a stain.
It wasn't even noticeable unless you looked closely.
She was the one who got burned, yet she was also the one who got scolded and flogged. It was unfair but all she could do was keep shut.
It was all worth it if her father would be well again.
Lyanna shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had more pressing matters to deal with.
The Marquess, her uncle, had asked her to immediately come over to the Estate. It seemed urgent as the letter was sudden.
She had a bad feeling about the visit that just wouldn't go away. And the closer she got, the worse it became.
And now that she was standing right in front of the estate, the bad feeling she had was worse than ever. She just couldn't help but feel that nothing good would come out of this visit.
But then again, when did anything good ever come out of a visit to the House of Valeborne?
The guard at the gate sized her up a few times before giving a signal to open the gates. Lately, the guards had gotten used to Lyanna's visits. Moreover, Darion had specifically told them to not restrict Lyanna when she comes by, and that was usually when she was called upon.
Lyanna glanced at the guard before walking into the estate.
She stepped into the estate with her jaw tight and her heart heavier than before. The cool marble floors, towering walls, and finely etched portraits of long-dead Valebornes only made the place feel colder — like a mausoleum of pride and power.
A maid was already waiting. "Follow me," she said curtly, without even offering a greeting.
Lyanna didn't respond. She just followed.
They passed through the grand hallway and up the curved staircase until they reached the familiar set of ivory double doors — the study of Marquess Elaric. The maid knocked once, and without waiting for a response, opened the door.
Elaric stood by the fireplace, hands clasped behind his back.
Catherine was lounging in a velvet chair, inspecting her nails like a lady with no cares in the world. And Darian… Darian sat beside a cabinet of old wines, his face unreadable.
"Come in," Elaric said, turning to face her. "You're late."
"I wasn't aware I was summoned to a royal court," Lyanna replied dryly.
Catherine's lip curled. "Still sharp-tongued for a beggar in lace."
Elaric ignored the jab. "You're here because there's an event in three days — a masquerade ball hosted by the Duke of Esten."
Lyanna stiffened.
Elaric continued. "It will be a grand affair. Nobility from all over the kingdom. More importantly, the Duke will be there."
"I thought…" she hesitated. "I thought I was to marry him under the Valeborne name… not attend soirées."
Darian finally spoke. "This is not just a ball. This is your introduction — the chance to prove to the world you are Lady Catherine Valeborne. Beautiful. Elegant. Well-mannered. And above all, noble."
Lyanna clenched her hands at her sides. "So this is a test."
"You could call it that," Catherine said sweetly. "But we prefer 'opportunity.'"
"For you," Lyanna shot back, "not me."
Elaric walked over to a nearby desk and slid forward an invitation sealed in red wax. "Attend. Smile. Be graceful. If you mess this up, we all pay the price. Especially your father."
The threat was subtle — but clear.
Lyanna looked between their smug faces and felt a bitter laugh rise in her throat. Of course. Everything had a string attached. Even a mask.
"Will I be alone?" she asked.
Darian met her gaze. "You'll be escorted. We'll prepare a dress, jewelry, a mask. The governess will intensify your lessons."
"Wonderful," Lyanna muttered.
Catherine stood. "Oh, and one more thing," she said, walking toward Lyanna like a lioness circling a wounded deer. "You will dance with him. The Duke. You will charm him. Make him want you."
Lyanna didn't flinch. "And if I refuse?"
Catherine leaned in close. "Then I hope your father enjoys dying slowly. Because that's what it'll be."
Silence.
Lyanna's eyes met Darian's again. He didn't look away. He never did.
"I'll go," Lyanna said finally, her voice like ice.
"Splendid," Elaric said, already turning back to the fire. "Dismissed."
She turned to leave, her spine straight as steel, but her heart hammering.
As she walked down the hall, one thought echoed in her mind:
Masquerades are meant to hide faces… but what if they expose the truth instead?