The garden was alive with color, laughter, and music. Nobles in sparkling gowns and embroidered tunics wove between hedges and fountains, their chatter like a soft hum under the bright midday sun.
Elizabeth stood near the center, her lavender gown flowing around her like liquid silk. Every movement was measured, every smile perfectly timed. She was radiant. And she knew it.
I took a deep breath, straightening my back. My green gown was understated, elegant—but not flashy. Subtlety was my weapon, and I intended to use it.
The prince appeared moments later, as if sensing the shift in attention. His gray eyes found mine instantly, a flicker of amusement and curiosity in his gaze. He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"You look calm," he said.
"I've been preparing for today," I replied. "And I plan to enjoy it."
He smirked, but his gaze lingered. "Good. Confidence suits you."
I allowed myself a small smile.
Elizabeth noticed, of course. She made her way toward us, every step smooth, every tilt of her head perfect. "Lady Isabella," she said sweetly, her voice like honey dipped in poison, "how lovely to see you here so early. And the prince, of course."
I smiled politely. "It's a perfect day for a garden fête, isn't it?"
"Indeed," she said, eyes sharp as she swept a glance over me. "Though some of us prefer a more… social approach."
The prince raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"
Elizabeth's smile widened. "Graceful conversation. Light-hearted compliments. Knowing the right words to say at the right moment."
I tilted my head. "I'd think action matters too."
Elizabeth blinked. For the first time, I saw her hesitation—barely noticeable, but there.
The first activity began: a game of arranging rare flowers in decorative vases. In the original story, Isabella had clumsily knocked over her bouquet while Elizabeth dazzled the prince with her skill. Today, I wasn't planning on following the script.
I picked up the flowers with steady hands, arranging them thoughtfully, choosing colors that complemented one another without looking forced. The prince watched, leaning closer, his expression curious.
"You have a talent for this," he said quietly, just to me.
"Or a willingness to try," I replied.
He chuckled. "I'll take it as talent for now."
Elizabeth approached, watching every move. "May I offer a suggestion?" she asked sweetly, leaning over.
I raised an eyebrow. "By all means."
Her hands hovered over mine for the briefest second, suggesting a slight change in arrangement. I adjusted subtly, making it my own. The prince leaned back, smiling. "I like your style," he said.
Elizabeth's smile faltered, just a fraction. She stepped back, her hands tightening around her gloves.
Next came the archery challenge. Nobles took turns aiming at small golden targets perched on the hedges. In the book, Isabella had fumbled, hitting nothing while Elizabeth impressed everyone.
I inhaled, nocking an arrow with confidence. My aim was steady, my release clean. The arrow struck the center of the target on the first try. A murmur ran through the crowd.
The prince's eyes widened slightly, and he clapped softly. "Impressive."
Elizabeth's arrow hit the outer ring, just missing the bullseye. Her frown was almost imperceptible, but it was there.
By the end of the morning, whispers had begun. The "quiet, forgotten sister" was no longer forgotten. People glanced at me, intrigued. Some were amused, some impressed—and Elizabeth noticed every single reaction.
The prince stayed near, walking beside me now. "You've made quite an entrance," he said, voice low.
I smiled, letting the sunlight warm my face. "I intend to make the rest of the fête just as interesting."
He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Then I'll have to pay closer attention."
Elizabeth, meanwhile, watched from across the garden. Her perfect composure remained, but I could see the tension in the slight tilt of her shoulders, the tight line of her lips.
The game was far from over—but I could already tell: today, I was winning.