The morning light crept through the tall arched windows of House Aurelian's estate, gilding the marble floors in gold. Veloria sat at the long dining table, idly stirring her untouched tea. Her lips curved in a faint smirk, though her eyes betrayed a sharp calculation that no one else in the room could read.
The echoes of last night's dance still lingered in her mind. Whispers, widened eyes, the collective gasp when she had severed her engagement with Duke Eldrick in front of the entire nobility. Bold. Reckless. Scandalous.
Exactly as she intended.
"Lady Veloria," her maid Fina whispered, shifting nervously at her side. "The capital's gossip sheets will spread the news by midday. Some already say the Duke will challenge you in court… others think the Crown Prince himself will intervene."
Veloria lifted the porcelain cup at last, sipping calmly. "Let them talk. Gossip has a short lifespan. The louder the noise, the quicker it burns out."
Her words were laced with her usual sardonic wit, but inside, she knew better. This was no simple scandal. This was the beginning of a war of influence.
Across the city, alliances would be shifting. Enemies sharpening their blades. And somewhere in the shadows, the true villain of this tale Marcellus would undoubtedly be watching.
Veloria placed her cup down with deliberate grace.
"Fina," she said softly, her tone carrying that unsettling calmness that always made her maid tremble, "if the game has begun, then it's time we decide which piece we'll move first."
The music shifted into a faster rhythm, strings clashing with drums as if the orchestra sensed the tension gathering like a stormcloud above the marble floor. Veloria stood at the edge of the dance circle, lips curled in that trademark sardonic smile of hers, the one that made half the nobles uneasy and the other half curious.
"Careful, Your Grace," she murmured when Duke Eldrick approached, his expression flawless but his eyes strained. "If you glare any harder, the chandeliers might start to fall."
He stiffened, as though her remark had pierced through his carefully constructed mask. "You always know how to speak out of turn, Lady Veloria."
"That's my specialty," she said airily, fanning herself though the room wasn't hot at all. "Speaking out of turn and surviving where I shouldn't."
Before Eldrick could reply, a ripple passed through the crowd. Attention veered toward the grand staircase. A figure descended with unhurried confidence Marcellus. His black attire caught the golden light, a striking contrast to his pale skin. He didn't belong here, not among perfumed dukes and powdered barons, and yet every gaze gravitated toward him.
Veloria's eyes narrowed. So the villain decides to crash the party early. How convenient. Or catastrophic. Possibly both.
The prince, seated at the dais beside his oh-so-beloved fiancée Selena, rose in indignation. "Marcellus," he hissed, loud enough for half the hall to hear. "You are not welcome in this palace."
Marcellus smirked, ignoring the prince entirely. His gaze found Veloria in the crowd, and for the briefest moment, something unreadable flickered there. Interest? Amusement? Dangerous curiosity?
"Ah," Veloria muttered under her breath, "and now the real play begins."
Eldrick caught her words and frowned. "You seem… unreasonably calm."
"I'm not calm," she whispered back, her fan concealing her lips. "I'm catastrophically entertained."
The orchestra faltered as Marcellus stepped onto the polished floor. Nobles whispered frantically, torn between retreating and craning their necks for a better view. Selena clutched the prince's arm dramatically, her trembling act flawless.
"Veloria," Eldrick said firmly, his hand brushing her elbow as if to anchor her. "Do not draw attention to yourself."
She tilted her head at him, feigning innocence. "Oh, darling, if attention were fire, I've been burning for years. Hiding isn't exactly my talent."
And then just to prove her point Marcellus spoke. Not to the prince, not to the knights bristling at the edges of the hall, but directly to her.
"Lady Veloria," his voice carried smoothly, cutting through the music like a blade. "Care to dance?"
The hall froze. Forks clattered against porcelain, gasps fluttered like startled birds, and Selena's face went rigid with poorly hidden fury.
Veloria blinked once. Twice. Then, very slowly, she smiled sharp as glass. "Well," she said softly, "isn't this deliciously inconvenient."
The hall remained suspended in silence, as though every chandelier crystal was holding its breath. Veloria could feel the collective stares digging into her back, the nobles' whispers swelling like a storm at sea.
"Did he just—?"
"To her of all people?"
"This is outrageous!"
Their shock was palpable, but Veloria? She lifted her fan, hiding the curve of her smirk.
"Careful, Marcellus," she said smoothly, her voice carrying across the floor, "inviting me to dance in front of the prince's fiancée might be considered… suicidal."
"Then it seems we already have something in common," he replied, stepping closer, hand extended. His tone was neither mocking nor formal it was something darker, a pull that invited chaos.
The prince's jaw tightened. "Veloria, decline him. At once."
Selena's nails dug into his sleeve, her eyes wide with feigned terror, though the slight curl of her lips betrayed the satisfaction she tried to hide. To her, this was perfect ammunition Veloria caught in the villain's orbit.
Veloria glanced between the furious prince, the trembling heroine, and the expectant villain. Choices, choices… what a delightful mess.
She lowered her fan. "Very well," she said at last, taking Marcellus's hand with exaggerated grace. "Let's give them something worth whispering about."
A collective gasp rippled through the hall.
Marcellus's grip was steady, almost searing. He drew her onto the polished floor, and the orchestra hesitant, uncertain struggled to resume, strings trembling under the weight of scandal.
Veloria leaned closer, her voice meant only for him. "Do you enjoy putting a target on my back, or is humiliating royalty just a hobby?"
Marcellus chuckled low. "Both, perhaps. But more importantly, I was curious. Everyone fears you, mocks you, or pities you. Yet you smile as if none of it matters. Why?"
Veloria twirled beneath his arm, skirts flaring. Her eyes glinted as she met his. "Because fear is expensive, pity is useless, and mockery is free entertainment."
He laughed softly genuine, dangerous. "Interesting. You may not be what I expected."
Across the hall, Eldrick's hand clenched into a fist, his expression carefully blank but his eyes betraying turmoil. The prince was livid, Selena aghast, and the knights shifted uneasily, waiting for a command that never came.
Veloria, however, only thought: Perfect. The more scandal, the further I drift from the script of this cursed novel.
And with that, she allowed the villain to guide her deeper into the dance, under the weight of every watching eye.
The orchestra found its rhythm at last, a somber waltz that swelled through the hall like a rising tide. Each step echoed scandal, each spin drew more gasps from the noble crowd.
Veloria moved with deliberate elegance, her smile serene yet laced with mischief. She could practically hear the nobles' quills scratching imaginary letters: Villainess ensnared by villain. Prince betrayed. Heroine humiliated. Delicious fodder for gossip.
Marcellus's eyes never left hers. His movements were precise, predatory, as if the dance itself were a duel. "You're enjoying this," he murmured, voice edged with amusement.
"Of course," Veloria replied lightly, twirling. "Why else would I risk every vulture in this room tearing me apart?"
"They despise you," he said, tightening his hold. "And yet, you dance as though you own them."
"I do," Veloria whispered back, lips curving. "Fear makes for excellent chains. Even better when they don't realize they're already bound."
The corner of his mouth lifted, almost approving.
Across the room, Selena's trembling façade cracked. She tugged the prince's arm, her voice pitched high enough to cut through the music. "Your Highness, you can't allow this mockery! She's disgracing you us all!"
The prince's glare darkened, but Veloria's laugh clear, lilting, wicked drowned out Selena's cry.
"Disgrace?" Veloria said aloud, her tone dripping with theatrical innocence. "My dear, I'm simply dancing. Unless, of course, you fear losing the spotlight?"
The nobles murmured like a restless sea, some scandalized, others thrilled. The balance of power shifted with every note.
Eldrick stood rigid by the dais, his jaw tight, his silence heavy. His gaze locked on Veloria, a storm brewing behind calm restraint.
Marcellus leaned in, voice low enough only she could hear. "Careful, Duchess. The prince looks ready to shatter his crown. Push too far, and you may draw blood."
Veloria's smirk sharpened. "Then perhaps tonight will finally be interesting."
The dance reached its crescendo, the music swelling as if the entire hall were caught in the web they spun. By the final step, Veloria curtsied with deliberate grace, her eyes never leaving the villain's.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then applause. Scattered, hesitant, but applause nonetheless. Enough to twist the knife in the prince's pride.
Veloria Ardent, fanning herself lazily. "Well, that was delightful." Her gaze flicked to Selena, whose smile trembled like shattered glass. "Thank you for lending me the stage."
The room erupted in whispers. The scandal had teeth now, and Veloria had fed it willingly.
Marcellus's hand brushed hers briefly, his voice a low promise. "This won't be the last time."
Veloria's answering smile was pure steel. "I'd be disappointed if it were."
The music faltered, the air heavy with anticipation. In the center of the ballroom, Selena's trembling voice rose, carrying just enough volume for every curious ear.
"She—she poisoned me!" Selena's wide eyes glistened with tears as she clutched her throat dramatically, collapsing against the Crown Prince. "Veloria… tried to kill me!"
A ripple of gasps tore through the hall. Fans snapped shut, whispers hissed like serpents, and eyes turned hungry for scandal, ready to devour.
Veloria stood at the edge of the polished floor, spine straight, chin tilted, expression carved from porcelain calm. She let the silence stretch, savoring it as though she owned the room. Then, with the faintest curve of her lips, she spoke.
"Poison?" Her tone dripped with lazy amusement. "How quaint. At least accuse me of something original, Lady Selena. Attempted murder at a ball? How terribly predictable."
The court froze, uncertain whether to gasp again or laugh. The Prince's jaw tightened, his arm around Selena as if shielding her. His gaze burned with outrage. "Veloria Ardent, this is no jest. Selena's life is in danger!"
Veloria's eyes flicked toward him, sharp and cold as glass. "And what proof do you offer, Your Highness? Crocodile tears and convenient theatrics?" She gestured lightly to Selena, whose hand still clutched her throat though her skin showed no pallor, no tremor. "Curious… she collapses, yet her pulse races like an actress awaiting applause."
Murmurs rippled again doubt creeping into eager hearts.
From the corner, Marcellus leaned against a marble pillar, arms folded, eyes gleaming with quiet delight. He said nothing, but Veloria caught the flicker of approval in his smirk.
Selena's voice cracked. "I… I tasted bitterness in my wine! She—she gave it to me—"
Veloria stepped forward at last, the sweep of her gown trailing like liquid fire across the floor. She plucked the abandoned glass from a servant's tray, raising it to the light. Her eyes glittered dangerously.
"Bitterness?" she echoed softly, twirling the glass between her fingers. "Perhaps what you tasted was envy. A far more potent poison, and one you seem to imbibe quite freely."
Laughter erupted not loud, but sharp enough to cut through the suffocating tension.
The Prince's brows furrowed. He opened his mouth, but Veloria's voice lanced through before he could speak.