Dylan de Beaumon, the adopted daughter of a Duke, recalls the memories of her past-life after hitting her head. Upon realizing she was a villainess character in a novel, she decides to use her intellectual giftedness to get a good career and run awa...
"And when should we plan on doing this, Your Highness?" asked Victor.
Caspian sighed, racking his brain for an answer. He wanted Axil's arrest to be made as public as possible. After contemplating for a while, he decided that it would have to happen that night.
In two weeks, after midterms, Faerchester will be hosting a ball for its noble students and their families. The ball is an annual celebration used to commemorate the academy's status of central importance among nobility. Many powerful people will be present, making it the perfect setup for the game.
Of course, it wasn't actually his game. Dylan was the true gamemaster. Caspian was just the mastermind—the one responsible for planning and organizing it. Although he planned Axil's downfall, in the end, he was just playing Dylan's game as her proxy.
He wanted to give her everything. He wanted Dylan to be happy. If this was what she wanted, then he would set up the game board and help her move her pawns. He would give her the best arena possible—the ball.
He thoroughly prepared a fictitious testimony and documents to offer the court in order to mislead them. All the fabricated evidence pointed to Axil de Beaumon as the main culprit behind the underground casinos. It was perfect.
Caspian wanted to escort Dylan to the ball. His face warmed as he thought of it.
"The night of the ball," the Prince said, leaning back in his seat with a grin. "It has to be that night."
There was a knock at the door; Victor opened it and froze.
"Lady Dylan?" he asked.
She noticed his shocked expression and let out a heavy sigh. After attempting to head straight to Caspian's room, she received a hefty earful from Lucas. His nagging made her feel worse than the cut did, so she finally yielded.
She ended up returning to her room and scaring the life out of both Jessie and Mina. They sprinkled an excessive amount of medicine on the wound and bandaged it. In fact, they bandaged her neck so much it looked like mummy wrapping.
"It's not as bad as it seems," she explained. "My maids just overreacted."
Caspian rushed to the door when he heard Dylan's voice. His eyes widened for a moment before he gently threaded his fingers through her hair, tilting her head up so that she was looking up at him.
"What happened?" he asked with an anxious tone. "Did somebody hurt you?"
"No," she said, softly. "I was just carless during sword practice."
A look of relief flashed momentarily into Caspian's silver eyes. Dylan held her breath as he examined her face with a burning gaze. It looked like he was checking for any other wounds.
She pulled his hands from her hair and changed the topic: "Rather than that, I came here to discuss something with you. Do you have some time?"
'I need to make sure everything is ready.'
He smiled at her, his face lighting up. "For you," he said, "always."
They talked until late in the night, drinking tea and eagerly discussing their plans for the ball. As Dylan spoke, offering her opinions on the testimony and documents, Caspian couldn't help but admire her brilliant mind. Dylan would make an excellent Empress.
"Ah, are you leaving now?" he asked her.
Glancing at the wall clock, she saw that it was a little past ten o'clock. "Yes," she replied, "my maid should be here any moment to get me."
"Before you leave," he told her, "I wanted to know if you'd allow me the honour of esc—"
Knock. Knock. His words were cut off by the sound of Mina knocking.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch what you said."
He shook his head from side to side, gesturing for her to forget about it. Now wasn't the right time to ask. If it was for her, then it had to be perfect. She didn't deserve anything less.
***
The next morning, Grisa waited in the hallway outside Dylan's door. Their rooms were in the same area, so it became routine for them to walk to class together everyday. She held a bouquet very tight and counted over the flowers for the twentieth time with focused eyes.
"Gris, you're here."
Grisa's expressive eyes softened and her voice became friendly as soon as she saw Dylan. "Good morning," she said, offering her the bouquet. "I heard you had an accident yesterday at training, so I got you these."
She really didn't have many friends, so she wasn't sure what was considered a suitable gift. After thinking about it for a while, she decided to give Dylan a bouquet of sunflowers. Dylan's bright mind and shimmering golden hair reminded her of happiness. Sunflowers, which made Grisa happy, were the perfect choice.
Dylan gratefully accepted the bouquet with a warm smile. "Thank you," she said, "this is very sweet of you."
Grisa's mood became even shinier at seeing how pleased Dylan was with the bouquet. She would have to tell her maids about how well it went.
"Oh, yeah," said Dylan, remembering what she wanted to ask Grisa. "Faerchester is hosting a ball soon. Would you like to go together?"
Although she had ulterior motives for asking her to go, Grisa was the only person Dylan felt at ease around. She was kind and comforting—just like Filumena, Dylan's mother. Dylan supposed a ball wouldn't be too bad if she attended with her friend.
"Yes!" shouted Grisa, sounding excited.
"Perfect," Dylan said, happy at how excited she sounded.
'This is going to be a long two weeks.'
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AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Isn't Dylan and Grisa's friendship SO CUTE!?!
Some boys are going to be disappointed Dylan already has someone to go with...
