A/N: Thanks to MayFlyMortalityFly for submitting William Merce and family. Though he was not picked for the Selection, I hope this chapter does him some justice :) And thanks to everyone else for creating the bonus characters we see in this chapter! I love it when a ton of people get together and make magic. Face claims for all the new characters and their attire can be found on my Pinterest page. My sincerest apologies if your boy isn't heavily featured; I wanted to include everyone, but the more I added, the more the chapter started to stagnate and I needed it to move along. Mostly, I tried to feature the characters we hadn't seen in a while. I hope y'all enjoy!
Dinner, Dancing, and Disaster
On the night of the Governor's Ball, Gen and family lined up on the stairs of the steps of Versailles, ready to greet their guests.
It was cold as balls outside, but Elyan had allowed Gen to take two shots of whiskey before facing this dog and pony show, so the warmth of the liquor provided some insulation. Still, her nipples felt hard as diamonds, and Gen was sure they could cut glass. She regretted her choice in attire, the one-sleeved black chiffon evening gown with golden floral accents doing nothing to protect her from the icy gusts of wind that blew through the slit down the side. Goosebumps erupted down her exposed thigh, day-old stubble prickling as she knocked her knees together and tried not to slip and fall.
She wondered if anyone else was having this much trouble.
Since this was not a large affair, Delphine and Evangeline were allowed to attend even though they had yet to be introduced to society (a stupid rule that Gen hated when she was young, but now gave her great satisfaction to hold over Delphine's head). The twins wore matching tea-length sweetheart gowns: Evangeline's in sky blue and Delphine's in a shade of charcoal grey. Though matching, they could not have looked more different if they tried, Delphine pushing the limits of her young age with dark lipstick and black pumps while Evangeline went for a sweeter, more natural look with pink cheeks and blue round-toed heels.
Beau was the one who really stole the show. Never had Gen seen a more ostentatious suit - made of pink tweed with a matching vest layered over a green and yellow plaid tie and a pale pink button-down. On anyone else, it would have looked like a mess. On Beau, it was just another fashion statement. Gen would have been more upset that Beau was outshining her once again, but she had learned from a young age that Beau needed the spotlight, and she was just fine without it. Besides, it was acceptable for her to show off leg in the high slit from her gown, and that on its own would make her attire memorable. After all, it had certainly attracted some stares from the Selected who too were waiting, albeit further up the staircase and closer to the warmth of the heated palace.
Not that she wanted those looks. She didn't want them at all. But it looked good when photographers could capture a few longing, heteronormative looks to stave off suspicions that this whole thing was a sham, even if it was the truth.
Gen's fingers itched to get on a glass of champagne, anything to speed up the slow arrival of the governor. Wandering eyes caught Maman fixing her tiara, the powder blue chiffon crinkling as she fluffed her golden curls. Papa's eyes remained fixed on the stairwell, but Gen could tell that he was hesitating to look at the watch on his wrist.
Finally, after what felt like years, a black limousine pulled into the drive and a tall, well-dressed man with stepped out. He walked with a swagger that exuded self-importance, midnight eyes twinkling in a way that made Gen's stomach knot...and not in a good way. His smile was blindingly white against the darkness of his skin, like a shark bearing all of its razor-sharp edges.
Maman was the one who took the initiative to greet him, his hulking figure dwarfing her petite frame as she stepped forward and offered her hand.
"Governor Merce, it's wonderful to have you. I hope your flight was comfortable."
"Quite comfortable, merci Votre Altesse," the man said with a bow, his voice a low gravelly rumble. Then, he turned to the two standing right behind him: a young man in a sharp brown and blue suit, and a young lady in a bright yellow gown. "May I introduce my son, William, and my daughter, Clementine."
Both paid their respects, William with a bow of his own, and Clementine with a curtsey. While graceful, Gen could not shake how different Clementine was from her father and brother. While William looked sharp and shone with confidence just like their father, Clementine seemed timid and scattered. She avoided eye contact, hiding behind her wavy acid-washed hair like it was a shield. At first, Gen thought it was some version of stage fright, but the longer Gen watched, the more she realized that Clementine was just...strange. Spacey. Like she wanted to melt into the background and disappear.
Together, everyone walked up the stairs and into the palace, winding their way to the ballroom. There were an ample amount of guests - mostly politicians and local officials to keep to the theme. Senator Lambert was absent, meaning that there was no one Gen recognized nor cared to converse with. Blessedly, no one came up to her, and she was free to mill around and study the faces in the room.
Heather wore a strapless gold ballgown and matching heels, the color complementing her skin tone well. It came as no surprise that she could not get away from work, talking animatedly with Governor Merce while Neelam stood next to her, wearing a matching teal and gold top and skirt, the hem of the top exposing the tiniest amount of skin on her flat abdomen. Her usual array of jewelry jangled on her wrist and sparkled against the top of her head. Every so often, she would steal a glance Gen's way and make the most ridiculous face, making Gen laugh. Dieu, that girl was weird. But, Neelam's behavior had long since stopped being a nuisance, fading into something welcome. Endearing, maybe?
A tap on her shoulder pulled Gen back into the present, turning to see William Merce with his hand outstretched.
"Votre Altesse, would you honor me with the first dance?"
As much as she did not want to dance this very moment, it would be exceedingly rude to decline one of the guests of honor.
"Of course."
Pleased, William took her by the hand and lead her out to the dance floor. The orchestra in the corner struck up a waltz, and William immediately took the lead. He was a good dancer, graceful in all the ways an accomplished, wealthy young man should be, but Gen did not like the way he pulled them so close, the way he gazed down at her as if she were something to devour. It made the skin on the back of her neck prickle.
"Are you enjoying your stay in Paris?" she asked, hoping that conversation would fill the space of increased tension.
"Oui, I find the city to be quite alluring. Perhaps you could give me a tour?"
"Sure," Gen agreed, not thinking much of it. She was surprised Maman hadn't forced something like that on her already.
"I don't appreciate where you've put your hands, Monsieur Merce," Gen said through smiling lips. Oh, if only it was acceptable to sucker punch diplomats. Unfortunately, she'd have to settle this the civil way.
"Mes mains?" William asked, feigning innocence as he trailed them lower, lower, and lower down past the base of her spine, right to the curve of her ass.
Gen couldn't take anymore. She physically took a step back and pushed him away. Without missing a beat William caught on to her wrist and spun Gen in a circle, keeping time to the music. He pulled her back in so her shoulder pressed against his chest. They were much closer than she ever wanted to be.
"What game are you playing at?"
William only smiled in the faux-innocent manner. "Pas des jeux, Votre Altesse."
Then, the unthinkable happened. William dipped Gen down into a bend and actually leaned in for a kiss. Was anyone else seeing this! Left with no other option, Gen did what any other mature girl would do in this kind of situation: she head butted him.
"Ah mon Dieu!" William cried, letting Gen go as he careened backward to grasp at his now-bleeding nose.
"Désolé," Gen said with false sweetness strictly for appearance's sake. "I must have slipped."
William shot her a glare, but Gen did not feel badly in the slightest. She only wished for the orchestra to speed up, to speed time up so she could have a real reason to leave this douchebag on the dance floor, because the last thing she wanted was to have his meaty mitts on her again.
But then there was a different set of hands on her shoulder and a different voice that came up behind her and asked, "Mind if I cut in?"
William looked affronted, but Gen could not have asked for a better angel than a boy in a navy blue suit.
"No, Hugo, I don't mind at all."
If Gen got satisfaction out of knowing William was staring angrily after them, then she wasn't ashamed. She didn't dare give him any more of her attention though, making it a point to look nowhere but Hugo. She studied the lines of his face, the ash brown fringe of his hair, the way his irises melted into his dark brown eyes, and watched him as he looked anywhere but at her. Her gaze wandered further, admiring the way the yellow of his tie complimented the rest of his suit. Beau would approve, she hummed to herself.
"Thanks for that," Gen said once she was sure she had caught enough of her breath. Until then, she had not noticed how hard her heart had been beating, or how fast her pulse had been racing. Now, she just felt exhausted.
"For what?"
"You know what," Gen sighed, laughing under her breath. It would have been funnier if she wasn't still so freaked out. "Swooping in like a knight in shining armor."
"I can't say my reasons aren't selfish. I mean, I did end up dancing with the most beautiful girl in the room," Hugo said with a smile, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe the words that just flew out of his mouth. He averted his gaze, now somewhat flustered. "Some guys are just creeps. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."
"You're not a creep."
"I hope not."
Gen nodded and leaned in to the dance, not really counting her steps nor listening to the tempo. Everything was blurred and hazy as she let Hugo pull her into a spin. He wasn't as coordinated of a dancer as William, but she vastly preferred his company. If only because she could trust him, his chest was warm and solid, and his grip was the only thing keeping her from a full blown freak out.
"If you want, I could spew off a thousand pointless bird facts to fill the conversation."
Gen laughed at that, genuinely laughed for the first time all night. For a second, she forgot about almost being assaulted by the governor's son, and just focused on the young man staring down at her.
"We haven't had a lot of time by ourselves, have we?" she asked, realizing that this was the first one-on-one conversation they'd had.
"Not as much as I would have liked, no."
"We'll have to change that."
From over Hugo's shoulder, Gen spied Evangeline and Lucas Aubry on the edge of the dance floor. Whatever hesitation they had at breakfast the other day was gone, because neither seemed to care if they were seen dancing with the other, not even by Delphine who was cutting them glares from where she brooded in the corner with her glass of sparkling water. Gen had never seen Evangeline smile so widely, or Lucas blush that deeply. It was like the rest of the world just melted away, and Gen selfishly wished she herself could find something like that by coincidence. It would have made her life so much easier.
"They seem to be getting along well."
At first, Gen thought that Hugo was talking about Vange and Lucas, and her heart skipped a beat. She was supposed to be protecting them, making sure no one ruined a pure, simple thing with their accusations.
"Who?"
"Your brother and my best friend."
Gen followed Hugo's line of sight, and sure enough, he was watching Beau laugh ridiculously at something that the tall man next to him said. Beau had a hand placed on the man's upper arm, a flirtatious gesture that his counterpart was definitely into.
"Beau gets along with anyone who gives him attention," Gen shrugged, not surprised at this behavior in the slightest.
"Funny, so does Anton."
Gen laughed once more, even though it wasn't particularly amusing. Maybe it was just the ridiculousness of this entire exchange. Maybe it was Gen finally opening her eyes. How had she been sleeping on Hugo this entire time? It was probably for the best; one less guy she had to worry about falling in love with her. However, Hugo looked pretty damn smitten from this angle, a goofy grin never leaving his face as they finished their dance.
Gen recognized the guest she ran into from a memorable three a.m video chat.
"Princess Gen!" Blaire Moreau screeched, unable to contain her excitement. Her dress shook with her, layers of blue beading and fringe waving as she jumped up and down on her toes.
"Uh uh," Arlo shook his head, immediately rushing to restrain his sister so that she didn't tackle Gen to the ground. "Nope. You promised me if I let you come, you'd act normal."
Blaire had no intention of listening to her brother, walking forward in a daze.
"It's really her ah mon Dieu..."
Blaire could hardly believe her eyes, irises going as wide as saucers as she blanched. Gen got worried that the girl was about to pass out. Thankfully, Arlo was already on top of things, anticipating this kind of reaction.
"Come on Blaire, this is embarrassing," Arlo hissed, his face flushing bright red as Blaire started to hyperventilate. "I think you broke her."
"I'll just come back later then," Gen suggested, already walking away.
"Probably for the best," Arlo agreed, glaring down at his sister who was definitely about to pass out. "Are there any sofas or anything around here?"
"You know where the sitting room is," Gen reminded, pointing down the hall. "Second door to the left."
Arlo nodded gratefully and tugged Blaire along. The younger girl did not take her eyes off Gen, walking backwards the entire way down the hall as to not let Gen out of her sight. It was kind of creepy and kind of endearing at the same time. Gen couldn't help but feeling a little bad. Blaire had waited all this time to meet her and wasn't able to get anything out other than some indiscernible screeches.
On her way to the food - because, if she were being honest, the food was the only part of a party other than the booze worth staying for - she ended up queuing behind another friendly face.
"Looks like Freya's found herself a new fan," Gen teased as she sauntered up to Merlin.
The model only cracked a smile, smoothing down the sleeves to the cornflower blue jacket which matched the loose fitting pants and complimented the pastel floral scarf draped around his shoulders. It was a look only he could pull off.
"I figured, if she's about to be my new boss, that I might as well start repping her brand."
"And it doesn't hurt that you pull it off oh so well."
Merlin smirked, his eyes crinkling around the corners. Gen looked down to see that his plate was mostly full of veggie sticks and a meatballs, while she was about to reach for some of the lemon tarts. The contrast was laughable, as it was the last time they went out to eat. However, Merlin also had a plate loaded with brownies stacked on top of the other, which was pretty out of place.
"Breaking the rules?"
Merlin rolled his eyes and jerked his head in the other direction. "You know how friends are - you go and get something and suddenly everyone else needs something too."
Together, they started walking off in the direction of his entourage. Though the Selected were really supposed to ask only one or two people, Merlin had brought three, not including Lucas Travert who lingered on the fringes only to steal a brownie from the proffered plate.
"Gen, you remember Ileana right?"
"Yeah, good to see you," Gen said, smiling as best she could without having a panic attack. When Gen's eyes locked onto the red-head's, her heart automatically seized, and she had to remind herself that Ileana was blackout that fateful night, and therefore was completely harmless. Of course, it didn't help Gen's nerves that Ileana showed up literally looking like sin in a skin-tight red dress that left nothing to the imagination, and Gen briefly wondered if she picked that style on purpose. "I don't remember seeing you on the guest list."
"It was a last minute thing," she replied a little too casually.
Ileana said nothing else, only offering a thin, red-lipped smile. Gen didn't like that one bit, but didn't have time to dwell before Merlin was dragging along someone new in a silver, crystal covered dress.
"I'd like you to meet my twin sister, Constance."
Gen could definitely see the resemblance. It was in the nose and the pout of the lips, but then again, both siblings looked like they could be models. Constance was gorgeous; there was no denying that with her dark flawless skin, killer dimples, and perfectly styled black hair. What really stood out though were her eyes: one bright blue and the other a deep brown. She beamed at Gen as she pulled her in for a hug, removing any pretense that came along with titles.
"It's so nice to meet you!" she gushed emphatically, skin stretching over her cheekbones in a way that had to hurt, and Gen wondered why she was trying so hard. "Merls keeps going on and on about you and what you did for him."
"It was nothing," Gen waved off, feeling a rush of pride that she was able to make a good difference in someone's life. Made her feel like less of an asshole. "I'm so glad you could make it."
"I wouldn't miss a chance like this in the world."
"This is the sister you keep going on about?" Lucas Travert asked, finally catching up with the conversation. "She looks like your clone, dude!"
Constance's head swiveled to Merlin, eyes narrowing. "You talk about me?"
"Only the best things, I promise," he assured, hands up in surrender. "You know how much I adore you."
Constance rolled her eyes, but Gen could tell that the motion was exaggerated for everyone else's sake. Something still seemed to gnaw at her, though she tried her best to hide it. Gen could tell by the way that she fidgeted at her wrists, even though they were covered by her white satin gloves. "Forgive me if I don't believe you."
"I sense a fight brewing," came another voice creeping in on the group. It belonged to a woman in a kaleidoscope dress with wild brown hair pulled up haphazardly, like she was only half-finished getting ready. As soon as Constance caught sight of her, she relaxed.
"Ah, this..." Merlin said as he steered the young woman Gen's way, "is our good friend Chelsea."
"The artist, right?" Gen asked, and Chelsea nodded, pleased that her work was recognized.
"The one and only," she boasted, puffing out her chest comically. "May I just say that this party is kick a - " She didn't get the chance to complete the thought before getting distracted by a wandering cheese platter. Gen could relate. Cheese was delicious. Once she came back, napkin full of cheese cubes, she looked at the group curiously. "What were we talking about?"
"You were about to curse in front of the princess," Merlin prompted, biting the side of his cheek to keep from laughing.
"I was?" Chelsea asked, eyes going wide as she gasped, "Shit!" Her eyes went wider, hand flying over her mouth as she realized her mistake. "Oh no! Fuck!"
Chelsea's vocabulary was a stream that could not stop, and Gen could not help but laugh along with the rest of the group. Even if Chelsea was beat red and pretty much dying of embarrassment.
"This is why I love you," Constance teased, pulling Chelsea into a hug so that she could bury her face into Constance's shoulder and hide from the world.
"Wow, you two have gotten close," Merlin commented, looking at the scene curiously.
"Actually, Roy, we've been meaning to tell you..." Constance trailed off, gathering up her courage and lacing her fingers through the brunette's. "Chelsea and I are together."
Gen nearly choked on her drink. She'd had a suspicion that there was more to the pair than met the eye; she had only hoped that Merlin wasn't going to be blindsided. But apparently, he was. Merlin stared at his twin as if she had grown another head as the tension in the group grew.
"For how long?"
"A few weeks now."
"A few weeks..." Merlin mused, running through the dates in his head, trying to make sense of it. Mostly, he looked upset at Chelsea. "So when I tried to get you out to celebrate my modeling contract and you said your 'muse' was keeping you at home...you really meant my sister?"
"Merls, it's not like that," Chelsea implored, guilt riddled across her face. "This has been a long time coming. You know that. We wanted to tell you, but we just didn't know how."
"I'm going to leave you guys to talk things out," Gen said, patting Merlin on the shoulder supportively before getting the hell out of there.
The next champagne tray she passed, she plucked two flutes from and downed them both right after each other. That was a loaded conversation that she was glad to skip out on. Even the few seconds she caught were bad. And she thought that her night was complicated...
"Votre Altesse."
Gen shuddered at the gratingly snobby voice. Now her night was even more complicated.
"Monsieur Bellerose," Gen replied stiffly, puffing up her posture as if preparing for a confrontation.
"You look...lovely..." he complimented tersely, his mind visibly working to come up with the perfectly strategic word.
"You look..." Gen trailed off, finding nothing unique in his classic black tux except for the exceptional, expensive cut. And, of course, the ruby cufflinks. What she really wanted to say was, it was easy to spray paint garbage gold, but settled for, "You clean up nicely. But then again, we've done this dance before. I wasn't too impressed the first time."
Gen swore she saw the vein in his forehead bulge.
"I was wondering, if you do not mind, if you would do me the service of meeting my father."
For a moment, Gen could not process the request because she had just assumed that, even though she read that he had a father on paper, a creature like Lochan was grown from a petri dish in some sterile lab or hatched from an egg or summoned from the deepest depths of hell. Now, he wanted her to meet his maker? It was weird, and Gen really wanted to make up some lame excuse, but Lochan looked strangely hopeful and also...concerned? Not for her but for himself, which was strange. Sweat was subtly beaded at the corner of his forehead and she wondered if the pressure of this potential introduction was making him nervous.
She didn't know why she agreed. She didn't know why she nodded her head and followed Lochan across the room to one of the barely-occupied tables. She didn't know why her heart was beating faster the closer she got to a short middle-aged white man with a salt and pepper beard clad in a similarly expensive black tux and an expression cold enough to rival icebergs.
Lochan stopped short of the man, turning to gesture to Gen.
"Father, may I introduce Princesse Geneviève."
"A pleasure," the older man acquiesced as he bowed his head shortly, though he made no move to pay any more respect.
So, he thinks he's Dieu, just like his son, Gen made a mental note, trying not to hate him right off the bat.
"How are you enjoying the party, Monsieur Bellrose?"
"Governors, politicians, what nasty creatures," Monsieur Bellerose scoffed, unimpressed by the lot. "I would have rather spent my night at the firm."
Lochan schooled his emotions into something tight and unreadable, but Gen was observant. That had to have hurt.
"I am glad you were able to attend, Father," Lochan said tightly, though Gen could not say she felt the same, and so remained quiet through the tense, awkward silence that swallowed them.
"This whole ordeal is rather queer, wouldn't you say?" Monsieur Bellerose posed, most likely thinking he was funny, but Gen did not approve of his word choice at all, especially the way he twisted it to mean something negative. Gen could have been imagining it, but Lochan seemed to stiffen as well, though he remained painfully silent.
"Queer?"
"It isn't very French, now is it?" he huffed, the words a crueler echo of similar ones Lochan had spoken before. The older man's nose wrinkled as he took a look around the room, no doubt spotting all of the Selected in their mix-matched suits and their non-socialite guests. The entire premise looked as though it disgusted him. "Though, it is no secret that society has changed since I was young, has become a little more liberal than I am accustomed. The monarchy must serve the common people as well, I suppose."
"If the monarchy has lowered itself so much in your eyes, Sir, then why encourage your son to participate? I'm sure there are tons of other fine, rich ladies to choose from." Gen challenged, not liking this man one bit. It was easy to see where Lochan learned his bad behaviors if he was raised by this elitist asshole.
The older man clapped his son on the shoulder. Gen did not miss how Lochan winced.
"If there is one thing I taught my son, it is the value of opportunity. Never let one slip through your fingers."
"Father, excuse me but I was about to ask the princess if she would be so kind as to share a dance."
Gen would have rather gone up and asked William Merce, but she took pity on Lochan. He seemed to want to escape his father's stifling atmosphere as much as Gen did. So she agreed, and Lochan swiftly arranged them on the dance floor.
They both looked pointedly away from each other and could not be more separate even though they were only an arm's length away. That was fine with her. It gave her time to digest what had just happened, what she had just learned that shifted the entire way she looked at Lochan Bellerose.
"I know," Gen found herself saying against her better judgement, wishing she had just chomped down on her bottom lip and kept quiet.
Lochan's head snapped down, dark eyes boring holes into her own, as if daring her to finish the thought. "Know what?"
"I know what it's like to want to please your parents. To be so desperate, you'd do anything, say anything. To want to live up to their standards, no matter what it costs."
"I don't know what you mean," Lochan said tersely, his lips pursed into a deep, thin line.
"Yes you do," Gen replied calmly, not giving into his efforts to push her away.
While some of the snobbery and the entitlement and the cruelty may have been just Lochan, the majority of it was his father. Years and years of life under the roof of a man like that, and it would turn anyone sour, and Lochan was spoiling. He was rotting away trying to win his father's approval, when he could not see that his father had more layers and more ice wrapped around his stone cold heart than his son. It hurt Gen to witness. It hurt more than she cared to admit.
Their dance ended abruptly, and it was Lochan who stepped away. He didn't even bow, not a single word, just simply walked off the dance floor leaving Gen with a million questions.
She knew she needed to move, but she was frozen. People were going to run into her. People were going to stare.
Then there was a familiar hand on her waist, and she was spinning circles once more.
"Everything alright?"
Seb looked down at her with concern, leading her around with surprising skill for someone so awkward and unsure.
"Yeah, it's just..." Gen trailed off, searching for Lochan in the crowd of indiscernible faces. "I thought I knew him."
"Who, Lochan?"
His surprise was warranted. Lochan was...complicated. He was an ass, yes. He was also impossible to reason with and set in his ways. But could his bad behaviors be faulted if he was just trying to do what he thought would win his father's love? The jury was still out. And for some reason, it made Gen's conscience knot up into something akin to sympathy.
"I thought I knew everything I needed to write him off, but I was wrong."
"You sound upset about that," Seb noticed, not judging but simply observing. "Do you like him?"
"No, more like I pity him."
They both thought in silence, and when the song did end, stood in silence. Gen was too preoccupied with her whirling mind while Seb fiddled with his cuffs, running a hand through his hair as he looked about nervously.
"Have I done something wrong?"
Gen snapped back to the present, looking at Seb as if he had grown a second head. "No, why would you think that?"
"We haven't spoken since the bridge..."
Guilt crawled its way into Gen's chest as she realized he was right. She hadn't meant to be avoiding him, just as she had not meant to distance herself from Beau, but shit had just been happening at a rapid rate. It was hard to keep up.
"Seb, it's been like, a week since that happened. I've been busy," Gen assured, wanting Seb to know that she was not intentionally keeping her distance. Sure, she supposed that it was a little weird the morning after the confession, but since then, she really hadn't given it a second thought. Having someone know didn't weigh on her like she thought it would. She trusted Seb, and she knew he would keep his word. "You have been so kind and so sweet with me, and I don't deserve it."
Slowly, Seb started to lighten up. The worried creases in his forehead smoothed over, and they fell back into their usual ease.
"I hope you've been having fun," Gen said with a smile, looking around the room discretely. "Who'd you bring with you? I'd love to meet them."
"It's just me tonight."
"You didn't - "
"Mom had to work, sister had to follow, and my dad had to stay and close down his patisserie," he said with a shrug as if it were no big deal, but Gen could see how much it stung, especially watching everyone else having fun with their friends and family.
"I'm sorry Seb."
Another shrug. "Nothing you could've done about it."
"I could have issued a royal mandate. Forced them to come and have fun."
Seb let out a chuckle. "I appreciate it. But really, I'm happy just being here with you."
Gen felt her heart melt in her chest as she squeezed Seb's hand. He was such a good guy, far too pure to be hanging around her.
"One more dance, I insist," Gen persuaded, pulling Seb back onto the dance floor. If he could not have his family there with him, the least she could do was keep him company.
"I'll be right back," Seb said reluctantly as he stepped away. "I promised Ulysse I'd hold onto his phone while he went to the restroom. I don't think he'd appreciate me holding it hostage."
"A good friend toe everyone it seems," Gen teased, letting him go.
She swayed on the dance floor, dodging dancing couples. There weren't that many, not enough guests to make the room packed or uncomfortable. Which meant that she was an easy target for a girl with a precocious nature and infinite jingling bracelets.
"Neelam, what are you doing?"
"Dancing. I thought that was obvious."
"Why are you dancing with me?"
"Why not? Everyone else gets to," Neelam shrugged as she swayed to the music, one hand placed strategically on Gen's shoulder while the other grasped Gen's free hand as she took the lead. "Besides, we both know I'm the better dancer. I thought I would come over and help you out, make people believe you don't have two left feet."
"I do not have two left feet," Gen retorted, affronted by the slight. Neelam only grinned cheekily. As if to prove her point, she maneuvered out in a flawless spin that made her skirt swirl like something out of a movie before tucking herself back under Gen's arm. She was hypnotizing, and Gen stumbled due to sheer distraction.
Neelam only sniggered. "You were saying?"
"Shut up."
Against her better judgement, Gen did dance the whole song with Neelam. If dancing was really what they were doing, and not Neelam blatantly showing off every complex move she knew just to make Gen look bad. At first, it was annoying. Then, it became clear that Neelam was poking fun at herself, and maybe, just maybe Gen allowed her self to get caught up in the ridiculousness. One of the best dances of the night, if she had to rank them.
After that, Gen's feet were killing her. She had lost track of how much time she had spent dancing, and she knew she still had yet to make her rounds with Dante and Ulysse and Anatole, but her feet felt like she hadn't stoped moving in hours. A break was well deserved, and so she made her way to the back of the room where more tables were. It was still too noisy there, not nearly as relaxing as Gen wanted it to be, so she left the ballroom altogether in search of a sitting room that wasn't occupied by a drunk couple or a hyperventilating Blaire Moreau.
Noises distracted her from her search about half way through. They were coming from a coat closet around the corner, gasping and giggling that sounded masculine to her ears.
"What the hell..."
Gen threw open the closet door, only to immediately need to bleach her eyeballs.
Beau was standing in the closet - jacket off, shirt unbuttoned, and hair rumpled - while William fucking Merce scrambled up from his knees, using one hand to cover the swollen quality of his mouth. William, at least, had the good sense to look embarrassed. Beau, on the other hand, just started laughing while he tucked his shirt back into his pants.
Gen reached into the closet and pulled her brother out by the ear, not caring about how much it obviously hurt as she shoved his stumbling body up against the wall. She was livid. No, she was beyond livid at his carelessness.
"Guards!" she shouted into the hall. It would take them a minute to reach her. Plenty of time to rip into her brother.
Who was currently passed out. Great.
Even more infuriated, Gen turned to William.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she hissed, backing William against the door of the closet.
"I made a mistake. I'm sorry. Please don't tell my father," William begged, eyes wide and desperate for mercy. It was pitiful.
"Give me one good reason why."
"I didn't want to, okay. I swear!"
"You mean Beau forced you to your knees and - "
"No! No, I mean...I mean...it's not what it looks like," William stumbled over his words, working himself up into a frenzy, like his life was crashing in around him. "It's my father. He's not content just being Governor anymore. He wants a better position in the government, something with more power, and if he can't get it himself, he wants to have it through me."
"So what? You come here and seduce royalty, test your luck with the heir, then the spare, and if you couldn't get me or Beau you'd what? Try for my sisters?" Gen accused, looking disgusted. "They're sixteen, still practically children."
"No, not them! I swear, it's not what I meant," he assured, looking horrified at her assumption.
"Then enlighten me," Gen snarled, holding back the urge to deck William and ruin those perfectly white teeth.
"My father...he..." William hesitated, eyes darting around the room, as if terrified of saying any more lest someone overhear. "He said that if I didn't do what he said, he'd hurt Clementine."
Gen felt like someone had punched her in the gut. Just the implications in that sentence made her sick.
"Those are some loaded accusations."
"Please, you have to believe me. I have no reason to lie," William insisted, looking miserable. "Dieu...if he knew that I'm telling you..."
Gen wanted to hate William. She wanted to throw him out of Versailles by the collar of his ridiculously expensive shirt. But he looked so ruined. Like his world was falling apart, nothing but sheer terror and mercy written in his eyes. If he was lying, he was damn impressive. Better than any other liar Gen had ever encountered.
"I have to tell my mother. You know I do," she stated firmly, and if it were possible, all color drained from William's face.
"You can't."
Fear escalated, and Gen could see him shaking in his shoes. He reached out and grasped Gen by the hand, moments away from falling on his knees and begging for her silence.
"I have a responsibility to."
If this was true, then her mother had a right to know. This was the government in jeopardy. This was her mother's, and by extension her own, legacy at risk. If they had let a moster like that slip under their noses for so long...then there was a greater problem at hand.
However, William was unwilling to relent.
"At least just...not tonight. Please. Not tonight."
Perhaps it was the shattered expression on his face, or the fact that someone was having a rougher night that she was, but Gen felt her heartstrings tug. She was crumbling. She was going to give in, if only a little.
"Okay, not tonight," Gen agreed, taking a step back. She felt bad for William, she really did. His accusations against his father were terrible, and she prayed to Dieu that they weren't true, but if they were, then she was in for one hell of a storm. She could definitely use a breather before facing that as well.
Finally, the guards she called came rounding the corner.
"Would you please escort Monseiur Merce to one of the guest rooms? I think he's had enough partying for one night. And get me my brother's valet so he can escort the prince back to his room as well," Gen instructed, the uniformed men nodding and walking to either side of William. He still looked spooked, like Gen was really going to have him dragged off to the dungeon. She leaned in close so that only he could hear. "Get some sleep. We'll deal with this in the morning."
William nodded, giving the guards skeptical looks before shuffling off with them. Gen watched him go, pinching the bridge of her nose, staving off the large headache that was growing in her chaotic mind. This night was trying to kill her. Between crazy dances, guests, and now sexual scandals, she was about at her limit.
"What happened here?" Marcel asked as he rushed into view, eyes roving from the departing guards over to Beau's unconscious form slumped up against the wall.
"What does it look like?" Gen asked sarcastically, to which Marcel only rolled his eyes.
The valet lowered himself to Beau's level, placing one hand on the prince's shoulder while the hand reached out to check for any kind of bumps or bruises. Marcel brushed Beau's hair out of his eyes, tapping gently on Beau's cheek to wake him up, blue eyes unfocused and wandering around the room.
"Come on Votre Altesse," Marcel encouraged without much energy, tired of finding his employer in this kind of situation: half dressed and ten sheets to the wind. Gen felt bad for him, she really did. And she thought that she put Elyan through too much shit. "You need to get up."
"You're really pretty, you know that?" Beau slurred, a dopey smile on his face.
"You're drunk," Marcel replied dryly, dodging Beau's attempts to lurch forward and hug him.
"Ouais..." Beau agreed, giggling. "And you're still pretty."
"You can tell me all about that once we get you to bed,"
"Are you going to join me?" Beau asked, wagging his eyebrows ridiculously. In this state, Beau had lost any and all sense of suave he usually had. Marcel only rolled his eyes.
"Definitely not."
"Then I'm not getting up," Beau pouted.
"If you refuse to get up on your own, then I will be resorted to throwing you over my back and carrying you up the stairs."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Try me," Marcel challenged, standing his ground as he extended a hand for Beau to take at his leisure. It was his choice.
"Fine," Beau grumbled, deftly pulling on Marcel's hand to stand himself up on wobbly knees. He almost immediately fell back over, but Marcel caught him, one arm snaked under Beau's while the other hand was placing support on his abdomen.
"Are you alright?"
"'m fine..." Beau slurred, stumbling a few steps. "Is the room spinning?"
"If you throw up on me, I will drop you," Marcel warned.
"Thank you for doing this," Gen said to Marcel, eternally grateful. "I don't know what I would have done."
"My pleasure, Votre Altesse," Marcel replied, though she doubted he was being sincere, as there was no pleasure in dealing with a sloppy drunk, royal or not. "You should head back to the party before someone notices you're missing."
Gen nodded, knowing he was right. She had spent too much time in the shadows - time she needed to be spending with her Selected in front of the cameras, putting on a good act. Especially after her public date with Lochan was something of a disaster.
She would stay until Marcel had Beau safely up the stairs, and that was it. It took a while, and a lot of stumbling, but they made in one piece, and only then did Gen let out a giant sigh.
"Whoa, what a show," came a feminine voice. Gen turned around to see Ileana leaning up against the wall a few feet away, looking on at the scene with amusement. How much she saw or heard was unknown, but Gen was much more concerned about what she was going to say now. The expression on her face looked innocent enough, but Gen knew better. There was enough of that devious sparkle that she knew all too well.
"What are you doing here?"
"I was invited," she replied cheekily. "I knew there would be dinner and dancing, but the free show really takes the cake. I loved seeing this intense side of you. Between us girls, are you jealous that your brother stole William from you? I wouldn't blame you; siblings can be a bitch or so I've heard. But, I guess he really wasn't your type, you know?"
"No, I don't know," Gen refuted, narrowing her eyes, not liking where this was heading.
"I think you do," Ileana challenged, and the atmosphere in the room turned ice cold. Gen's stomach dropped, and she braced herself for what the Devil in a Red Dress had coming. "You see, I have this really fuzzy memory from that night we went to the dance club. It's not all there, but I remember being in that bathroom. I remember wanting to do things to you. I remember you wanting to do those same things to me..."
"You're out of your damn mind."
"Am I?" Ileana asked, faux innocent while she clearly enjoyed ruffling Gen's feathers. "It felt very, very real. And then, I saw you dancing with that girl, and things just clicked."
She snapped her fingers for emphasis, long pointed nails clicking like talons against each other, making Gen flinch. But she refused to bow down so easily.
"What do you want from me, Ileana?"
"Nothing much...well, nothing that'll blow too big a hole in the royal budget," Ileana sing-songed, side-stepping Gen so that she could admire her surroundings, as if seeing herself living in equivalent luxury. "I'm guessing you want to keep this dirty little secret under wraps, so if you want my silence, it's going to cost you."
Gen scoffed, not believing her ears. "Are you blackmailing me?"
"That's such an ugly word," Ileana tutted, though that was exactly what she was doing and she knew it - looked proud of it even. She must have been patting herself on the back: Good job Ileana, you clever girl, outsmarting the princess to get exactly what you want. Child's play, or so she thought, basking in her winnings though the game was not yet over.
Didn't Ileana know the queen was the most powerful piece on the board? This was Gen's game, and she was just a pawn.
"An ugly word for an ugly girl," Gen replied, a cool fury washing over her as Ileana frowned at the insult. She didn't feel the usual burn of anger, the uncontrollable violent swirl of emotions that she had previously felt in dealing with her brother. No, instead she felt resolve. A cold indifference for the ruination she was about to bring. "You people think you can come in here and fuck with me and my family? My future? No. Let me tell you how things are really going to go. You're not going to tell anyone about that night, and you're not going to receive a lick of change for it."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because I will ruin you," Gen said, taking a step forward into Ileana's personal space to make sure she got the message, unleashing all the hell she had pent up over the night into this one vow. "If you so much as breathe a single word to anyone - the papers, the tabloids, your friends, your family, your priest, your dog - I will make sure you never have a career in fashion. I will blacklist you from every single modeling agency in the country, every advertising department, every TV station, everything. By the time I'm done with you, you won't even be allowed to hold a camera, none the less pose for one. Do I make myself clear?"
Ileana nodded, her plan successfully ruined.
"Good," Gen said and leaned in, bringing her lips to Ileana's ear. "Now get out of my house."
Ileana's bottom lip trembled, whether out of anger or to quell the tears building in the corners of her eyes, Gen could not tell, and she did not care. She did not even get satisfaction in watching the red head storm down the hall, yanking her jacket off the stack of countless others before guards made to flank her as they monitored her departure.
This is power, she thought as she unclenched her fists, looking down upon the fresh beads of blood that stung at nail-bitten palms.
It felt an awful lot like ruination.