Chapter 11: Ball
Knock. Knock.
No response.
"Angelica?" I call softly.
After a pause, the door creaks open, and Cordelia, Angelica's ever-dutiful maid, stands before me. She regards me with polite detachment. "Lady Atlee, Lady Angelica has had quite enough of your company during today's duties. Is there anything important you wish for me to convey to her?"
I keep my expression composed. "Yes, please let her know that I'd like to discuss the reason for our... disagreement and tentatively offer her my support. If she's preoccupied, tell her she's welcome to visit me whenever she has the time."
Before Cordelia can respond, Angelica's voice rises from inside the room, strained. "Cordelia, let her through."
What about your manners now, Angelica? You can use Cordelia's first name so freely, but I'm still "Lady Atlee"? I sigh inwardly but step inside without comment.
As Cordelia busies herself with preparing tea and sweets, my gaze falls on Angelica. Her eyes are puffy and red, a stark contrast to her usual confidence. Guilt gnaws at me.
"Angelica," I begin softly, taking a seat across from her. "I'm sorry. The way I spoke was thoughtless. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just think you shouldn't act behind the prince's back. Talk to him, work with him."
Angelica looks down, fiddling with her sleeves. "But Prince Julius is already so busy with his duties. I couldn't possibly burden him even more..."
"And yet you burden yourself," I reply gently. "Angelica, you're already doing more than enough. You don't need to keep pushing yourself."
Her head snaps up, and I see the resolve in her eyes. "I have to! I have to do everything I can for him!"
I take a calming breath. "Alright, fine. Let's look into this boy together. But if you want my help, it will come with one condition."
Her eyes widen slightly.
"I'll only help if it's to gain his support for us—not for our fiancés. Our power is their power, anyways."
For a moment, Angelica looks stunned. Then, before I can react, she jumps up and throws her arms around me. The sudden movement nearly sends the small tea table between us toppling.
"Thank you, Clarice," Angelica whispers, her voice trembling. "I didn't know how to make up with you, and you're even willing to help me..."
"That's what friends do," I say, patting her back lightly. "As long as it's truly for you and not for someone else, I'll always come to your aid. But," I add with a small smile, "you'll have to keep calling me Clarice."
Angelica pulls back, her face flushed, realising what she just did. She hurriedly smooths her dress and sits down. "Do I really have to?" she asks sheepishly.
"Yes," I reply firmly and we share a quiet laugh.
Angelica's expression now brighter, she leans forward. "So, other than his birth, I couldn't find much about him or his familyform outside the capital. I don't even know who his mother is, just that he's a bastard. We'll have to use our chance at the ball."
"Angelica, are you ready yet?" I call, adjusting my gloves as I wait outside her chambers.
"Just a moment, Lady Clarice," comes Cordelia's voice. "I'm tightening the young lady's corset."
From behind the door, I hear groans and the rustling of fabric. It takes a few more minutes before the door finally creaks open, and Angelica steps out. "Let's go."
The ballroom is dazzling, as expected of a royal event. Some of the adults approach to greet me, though most of their attention naturally drifts to my father. This suits me just fine. I much prefer the company of those closer to my age, and I take full advantage of the evening, chatting with the other young nobles and enjoying the music.
I even manage to secure a few dances with Jilk, his movements graceful but his expression just slightly distant. It's a familiar pattern by now—his thoughts always seem half-occupied, even in lighter moments like this.
Angelica, on the other hand, has no such respite. She and Prince Julius are surrounded by adults nearly the entire evening, monopolized by eager courtiers. Spotting an opening, I approach her with deliberate steps and a polite smile. "Lady Angelica, may I have a moment of your time?"
Her attention shifts to me, though I catch a remaining flicker of annoyance in her eyes. "So, did you manage to keep an eye on him while I was occupied?"
"Yes," I reply, glancing across the room. "He was just over there speaking to one of the Roseblade daughters… It seems someone else is speaking with him now."
Angelica's posture straightens, her expression softening with relief. "That's His Highness! Naturally, he's already recognized the worth of that boy. How could I have doubted him?"
Her confidence is unwavering so I just nod. "In that case, I'll leave it to the two of you. But," I add with a small smile, "I would like an introduction later."
Satisfied, Angelica gives a quick nod of her own before turning back toward the prince and the boy. I excuse myself, making my way through the ballroom once more, my gaze seeking out Jilk.
As Jilk converses with me, always close to the prince and Angelica, I suddenly hear her voice, distressed, rising above the general murmur. "My prince, please–" She's clinging to Prince Julius's arm, her expression desperate. His face, however, is twisted with frustration. "Stop always getting in my way, Angelica! It's like you don't understand me at all!"
With that, the prince jerks his arm away send her stumbling. The ballroom falls into stunned silence, all eyes snapping toward the scene.
In the stillness, a single figure moves. The boy Angelica has been focused on, nudges the prince aside, catching her just before she can hit the ground, pulling her upright into his arms.
"I'm sorry, my lady," he says softly, his tone steady despite the intense stares. "You shouldn't have had to go through that because of me. Are you alright?"
Angelica looks up at him, her cheeks flushed, her hands clutching at his arms for balance. She doesn't answer, too stunned to respond. Julius, standing just beside them, looks equally startled—his expression shifting between disbelief and anger.
From my side, I see Jilk tense, his face darkening with rage. He takes a sharp step forward, but I grab he tightly. "Jilk, stop! We don't even know what happened yet!"
Without saying a word, Jilk yanks his hand free of mine with such force that I fall, landing ungracefully on the polished ballroom floor. Embarrassment surges through me as I try to right myself, only to see someone rushing over to help.
To my dismay, it's not Jilk who offers me a hand, but the boy who just helped Angelica. He helps me up,as I glance past him, seeing Jilk stumbling toward Julius without even looking back.
Before I can utter a word of thanks, a sharp pain lances through my foot. My breath hitches, and the boy notices immediately, concern flickering across his face. "Are you alright? Where does it hurt?" he asks, his voice calm but tinged with urgency.
"M-My ankle," I manage to stammer, wincing.
His response is swift. "If I may." Without hesitation, he scoops me up into a princess carry. That takes the weight off my ankle, and the pain begins to ebb. My face burns with mortification, and I can only stammer, "Th-thank you."
He nods and turns toward the edge of the room, clearly intending to set me down on one of the lined-up chairs. The murmurs of onlookers follow us, their curiosity as sharp as the stares drilling into my back.
But before we reach the chairs, Jilk steps into our path, his expression a storm of anger.
"Apologize to the prince right now!" Jilk demands.
The boy doesn't flinch. "Why?" he replies, his tone calm yet brimming with suppressed ire. "I've done nothing wrong. And more importantly, I need to get this lady some help."
Jilk seems momentarily taken aback but quickly regains his composure. "I'll take her," he insists, though his voice falters slightly. "But you will apologize this instant!"
The boy's expression hardens. "As if I'd hand her over to the one who caused her to fall in the first place. And a brat who doesn't even know how to behave properly doesn't deserve an apology, even if I had done something wrong."
With that, the boy steps forward, his movement unyielding. Jilk tries to hold him back but loses his grip, stumbling as the boy pushes past him.
The next moment, two palace guards stop us again. Julius strides up to Jilk, his expression stormy as Angelica trails after him anxious.
"You insolent fool!" Julius's voice rings out. "How dare you insult me? Apologize immediately!"
The boy doesn't flinch. Instead, his expression hardens as his voice gains an edge. "You two are meant to be the future of our nation, yet you can't even handle yourselves. Jealous the moment someone more talented shows up. You don't know how to treat your subjects."
His words hit like a hammer. "You injured a minister's daughter and nearly did the same to a duke's daughter. Your respective fiancées, no less! Do you understand the disgrace you've brought to this country with your behavior tonight?"
The hall falls silent, the tension thick in the air. Suddenly, something small and soft hits the boy in the face before landing in my lap. A glove.
Julius's voice drips with scorn. "You won't dare to speak ill of me again!"
The boy catches the prince's eye, his tone unshaken. "You can't even handle well-earned criticism. You—"
Before he can finish, an elderly woman steps in, placing a firm hand over his mouth. "Forgive me, Your Highness," she says with a low bow, her voice tingling with tension. "This fool is unfit for the capital, let alone the royal court."
"Julius, Jilk, are you alright?" Queen Mylene's concerned tone rises above the murmurs.
"What's this commotion?" booms King Roland just seconds later.
The king's gaze sweeps over us before landing on the glove in my lap matching the one missing from Julius's hand. His brow furrows slightly before he speaks. "Julius, do you believe a duel is in order? If that is the case, let it begin immediately."
"Dear, you can't be serious!" Queen Mylene protests, her voice sharp with disapproval. As the royal pair exchange heated words, the elderly woman quietly steps away.
A few words to his spouse later, the king steps closer to me, crouching to meet my eye level. His voice carries a strange warmth ill-suited to the situation. "I'll take the little lady so you can prepare for your duel," he says, extending his hands toward me.
The king—holding me? My gaze darts to the boy's face, and I see a flicker of disgust. Is it truly so unbearable for him to be reminded he's carrying me?
"Your Majesty," the boy interjects, his tone firm yet respectful, "that won't be necessary. I'll take her to a chair and then prepare. Just a moment."
And with that, he turns us toward the chairs again. Wasn't he just acting so strangely about holding me? Now he's carrying me as if it's second nature.
"I would like to watch the duel," I manage to say, my voice quieter than intended. "Could you place me somewhere I can see?"
He nods. "Of course." Then, he calls out to a blond boy nearby. "Big brother, would you please get Clarice a chair so we can sit her down at the edge of the dueling ring?"
I blink, stunned. Clarice?
Why is he calling me by my first name? I don't even know him. I glance up at him. The sound of my name coming from a stranger's lips feels oddly intimate.
Still overwhelmed, I'm finally set down on a chair at the edge of a circle , cleared for the duel.
"Clarice, my dear," my father's voice breaks through my thoughts, and I turn to him, his expression lined with concern. "I'm so sorry I couldn't assist you sooner. The king required my counsel. How are you holding up?"
"It's not that bad," I reply absently. Everything feels disjointed, and I can't shake the confusion from my mind.
Father sighs and leans closer. "Tell me, did the king order that boy to lose when he approached you earlier? Otherwise, this could be disastrous for the prince's reputation."
"No… No, he didn't," I murmur. "He offered to carry me instead of the boy."
Father clicks his tongue in disapproval, muttering under his breath, "Tsk. Not even his foster son's fiancée is safe." His words confuse me further, but before I can ask what he means, a sharp voice cuts through the air.
"Are you finished, Lord Mamoria?" It's the Bartfort boy. "I would like to start. If you wish to shield your foster brother, I'm willing to face you first—on the same conditions."
Jilk, standing stiffly, responds. "And those conditions would be?"
The boy steps forward, his expression unyielding. "Your Highnesses apologize to your fiancées for hurting them. Then, make a genuine effort to be better partners and take your responsibilities seriously. These engagements are meant to create a strong and stable future for this nation. Your negligence could lead to instability—even civil war. That is the power you hold."
Jilk's face flushes, but he nods curtly. "Fine. But if you lose, you will apologize for your offenses against us and accept any punishment we see fit."
The king claps loudly, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. "Let the duel begin."
Jilk is the first to move. He circles cautiously, trying to close in on the boy's side. My heart pounds as I watch their movements, though I barely understand what I'm seeing.
Suddenly Jilk's sword clatters loudly against the floor, skidding into a group of onlookers. Before anyone could react, the boy lightly presses his wooden blade to Jilk's throat. My fiancé trembles, visibly shaken. He tries to speak, but the king's voice booms over him.
"The first match is over."
That was… fast. Too fast. What just happened? I barely had time to register their movements.
Before I can dwell on it, the second round begins. Julius steps into the circle, his face set with determination. This time, the duel lasts longer. At first, it looks like Julius has the upper hand. But then, slowly, the tide begins to turn.
The Bartfort boy presses forward. Julius starts to falter. His breathing grows heavier, and his swings lose their crispness. What's going on?
Then, in a flash, the boy strikes Julius's weapon. The prince's sword flies from his grip, landing several feet away.
The room is silent as the king steps forward, raising his hand to signal the end of the match. "The second match is over," he declares firmly.
Julius' voice rising in protest. "This isn't—"
The king cuts him off. "As far as I understand, Lord Bartfort over there did nothing wrong. He merely refused to stoop to your provocations. And when you were about to hurt dear Angelica, he stepped in. That should have been your role, Julius."
The king dismisses Julius, turning to address the room. "Now, everyone, tell me—who is truly in the right here? My son, the prince, by virtue of his station? Or the viscount's son, for winning this duel fairly?" He pauses, letting his words settle. "Consider it carefully. And lets be relieved, after all, this was nothing more than a children's spat."
With that, the king places a hand on Angelica's shoulder and they make there way toward me. Lowering himself onto one knee, he meets our gazes. "My dear Angelica and Clarice, I offer my deepest apologies for my sons' behavior. They are still young and did not intend to cause you harm."
He takes each of our hands, pressing a kiss to the back of them. It's a gesture of comfort, but my father clicks his tongue in disapproval, again. With that the king departs, leaving tension lingering as the evening hesitates to resume its prior rhythm.
A few moments later, Jilk approaches me, stopping a few paces away. His expression is hesitant, his usual composure gone. "Clarice, I… I'm sorry, I… I didn't mean—"
I instinctively rise to reassure him, only for sharp pain to shoot through my ankle. I let out a startled cry as I stumble, but a steadying hand grips me, keeping me upright. I lean into the support, and move closer to Jilk. Placing a hand against his cheek, I smile. "It's fine, I know you only wanted to help the prince. That's your duty."
Jilk's expression tightens, glancing sharply to my side. "If that's so," he mutters tersely, gesturing to my leg. "let's get this looked at." He waves dismissively at my unknown helper. "I'll handle it."
His abruptness catches me off guard. Turning to follow his gaze, I finally register who is holding me. It's the Bartfort boy. He doesn't step away immediately, his face calm despite Jilk's sharp tone.
I feel a twinge of embarrassment. "Oh… I…" My voice falters, then steadies as I manage to speak. "I'm sorry. What is your name again? I would like to thank you properly."
He declines his head slightly. "It's Leon fou Bartfort, my lady. It was an honor."
"Thank you, Leon fou Bartfort, for helping me today," I reply, my voice carrying a sincere warmth as I bow my head in gratitude.
Without another word, Jilk abruptly stalks off, leaving me puzzled. Perhaps he's as overwhelmed as I am.
I glance back at Leon, offering him another quiet "Thank you" before my father takes over. The evening's events replay in my mind as we leave the ballroom. That's it for today. What a shame I didn't get to dance more. Maybe, at the next ball, I'll dance with Leon.
A/N
I'm sorry Angelica that Clarice got the much longer POV chapter. Please forgive me.
In earnest, I hope this chapter's quality is fine. I skipped my last polishing since I just wanted to get this out. I hope I did Clarice justice, since she was supposedly the nicest little Lady. I hope I got her dysfunctional crush across but also shown that she's not really picking up on the signs, jet.
Next chapter may be Milene POV. I already started on it, but I'm not sure if Leon's POV might not be the better choice.
On another note, I got 8 or so comments in the night after publishing the last chapter. Thank you so much.
But there were some artists trying to sell their work again? So to get it out to anyone really interested in this series. Right now, I'm not willing to pay for art. If somebody wants something else, please be specific about it.
Now I have something to point to if I get this requests again, because I really don't know want to do with them. Just ignore?...
Anyway, like always, please comment if there is anything on your mind. All non shitposts are appreciated.