Meanwhile, on the upper dais
"I hope that all the preparations for the Flower Festival parade are in order, Lady Catherine Dinkley. It would be a shame if everything fell apart on the final day—we certainly cannot afford for that to happen now, can we?" said the Queen Dowager, Alicia.
But Lady Catherine did not hear her. Her gaze was locked entirely on her daughter, Monica, who was deep in conversation with that doppelganger of her dead daughter-in-law.
She couldn't believe her eyes the moment she saw that woman walk into the room.
When she had seen her live on television on the night of the ball, dancing with the Crown Prince and commanding the attention of the press, she hadn't been able to process it.
She had honestly thought she was dreaming, because such a thing simply couldn't be true.
That girl was dead, having surely been devoured by the beasts of the cursed forest, and she was never supposed to come back.
But if she really had died and was gone... then who on earth was the woman she was seeing on live TV?
A ghost?
A ghost that had likely returned to haunt them after realizing what they had done to her.
To exact revenge for being murdered unjustly, all so they could get their hands on Florence's vast fortune and power.
No, it couldn't be.
It simply couldn't.
Ever since seeing that woman on television, she had been plagued by nightmares of her walking into her bedroom with her fiery red hair disheveled, her pale body covered in bleeding cuts and stained with the black soil of the cursed forest. In her hand, she carried the very same dagger—the one with a hilt crafted from blue diamond roses, which had also been used to murder her grandmother, Felistus. As she approached the bed, she would chant "murderers," and just as she raised the dagger to strike, Catherine would wake up screaming, her adrenaline spiking and her body drenched in cold sweat from sheer paranoia.
Thankfully, it was only a dream.
The girl was dead and gone.
The person she was seeing conversing with her daughter was someone else. Even though she was clearly related to the dead girl, Catherine was still immensely relieved that it wasn't actually her.
That realization made her feel a temporary sense of ease.
"It seems you are more concentrated on remembering your horrid actions of the past than on paying any attention to me, Lady Catherine Dinkley."
Lady Catherine was jolted from her thoughts by the voice, quickly turning her head to face the Queen Dowager, who was eyeing her intently with a mix of disdain and cold anger. It was clear she had missed whatever was just said, completely lost in her troubled thoughts about the woman conversing with her daughter at the back of the room.
"Perhaps involving you in these preparations was a mistake, considering how you lack the absolute courtesy for this event by burying yourself in the things of the past instead of focusing on what is important right now. Perhaps I should assign someone else," Alicia continued.
At that remark, Duchess Catherine felt her stomach drop and her blood run cold. She knew all too well what being dismissed from important duties by the Queen Dowager meant, she would become a disgraced noble lady at court, perhaps even stripped of her title as Duchess of Fortshire. Such a fall from grace would not only ruin her, but would also heavily impact her husband, the Duke, and her daughter's standing in the royal bridal selection.
As the daughter of a disgraced lady, Monica would be disqualified with immediate effect and banned from marrying any member of the royal family. Even if the Crown Prince didn't choose her as his bride, there was still the second prince, Prince Eric, as well as Lord Theodore, the son of Lord Archford Devonte. Catherine was determined for Monica to marry into royalty, not to the son of a lowly Duke or Marquis.
Fortshire was a powerful fief, nearly matching Florence's wealth and influence, and the Duke's daughter deserved to be matched with the very best. And the best belonged to the royal family. She simply couldn't let everything fall apart now; she had to salvage the situation before it spiraled completely out of control.
With those desperate thoughts racing through her mind, Duchess Catherine immediately dropped to her knees and bowed her head low in apology.
"My greatest and deepest apologies, your Majesty," she exclaimed. "I swear that this foolish subject did not mean any offense. I was simply so caught up in the preparations for the festivities that I momentarily forgot myself in your presence and lost track of the important matters at hand. Please forgive me, your Majesty, and spare me your wrath."
She dropped her head even lower.
Alicia rolled her eyes as she looked down at Duchess Catherine. "You mean you were distracted by the hauntings of your past, to the point where you couldn't concentrate on a single thing that actually matters..."
Duchess Catherine stiffened at Alicia's remarks.
"Which does make me wonder... if it's simply reminiscence, or maybe it's..." Alicia looked down at Duchess Catherine intently before continuing, "unquenchable guilt."
Duchess Catherine gripped the fabric of her dress tightly in a wave of sudden anxiety. She didn't want to think about what the Queen Dowager might truly mean, refusing to entertain the latter possibility. Because if the Queen Dowager actually knew about the truth behind those dark deeds, then she and her co-conspirators would be in unimaginable trouble.
But it was highly unlikely.
So she ultimately convinced herself that the old Queen was simply toying with her—trying to intimidate her into a mistake so she could find an excuse to strip her of her duties and eliminate her daughter from the competition.
It was glaringly obvious to Catherine that the Queen favored her dead daughter-in-law's doppelganger to become the future queen.
Therefore, Alicia would undoubtedly do anything to ensure that girl was crowned, even if she had to scheme behind the scenes without making it obvious. That had to be her plan. But Catherine couldn't allow that to happen—not after everything she had sacrificed.
So, swallowing her nervousness, instead of trying to reason further, she said, "My apologies, your Majesty. My behavior was truly uncalled for. Please forgive me..."
Alicia smirked silently to herself. 'Very cunning. It seems she is also a witty and calculative weasel. Instead of continuing to reason with me and adding fuel to the fire of her downfall, she decided to humble herself instead, continuing to ask for forgiveness and mercy. Very wise, and also rather unfortunate for my plans. I can smell the guilt reeking from her. It is clear she was involved in the incidents within the Sinclair family three years ago. That is why she is so utterly unsettled upon seeing Ariel at this competition—it is as if she is watching her dead enemy, her very own haunting guilt, alive and breathing right in front of her. Tsk... I would have loved to destroy her myself, but I am sure someone else already has everything in store for her.'
At that thought, she turned her gaze briefly to Ariel, locking eyes with her for a brief moment. Before nodding, she turned to look at Monica, excusing herself and walking out of the room.
Alicia sighed before returning her attention to the kneeling woman before her, waiting for her benevolent reply.
She exhaled softly and said, "You are forgiven, Lady Catherine. But next time... please pay close attention to your duties instead of getting lost in your own thoughts. Otherwise, you might just be labeled a poor hostess. And you and I both know perfectly well that we wouldn't want it to come to that, or things could get... rather messy."
Duchess Catherine released a shaky breath of relief, relaxing her tense stance before replying, "Thank you so much for your benevolent kindness and mercy, your Majesty. I will forever be grateful."
"Mmm..." Alicia hummed dismissively. "Now rise, go and inform the master of ceremonies that it's almost time to announce the activities for tomorrow and wrap up the evening so the ladies can get some rest."
Duchess Catherine bowed her head. "Thank you, your Majesty." She then carefully stood up and offered a low curtsey. "I will inform her right away. Please excuse me."
Alicia just dismissed her with a wave of her hand, and Catherine hurried away.
"You know, you really shouldn't be quite so obvious in showing your support for that 'Pardon' of yours, Mother. Otherwise, people might start to think you're trying to bend the rules, and they could use that against you."
A voice rang out beside Alicia, and she turned to look at Queen Esmerelda, who spoke those words with a light, teasing tone while sipping from her glass of wine.
"You really should be careful..." Esmerelda continued. "Otherwise, your little dream will fall apart before it even begins."
Alicia smirked before replying, "Says someone who already has her own life falling miserably apart because of childish schemes meant only to fool and entertain children." She paused as she sipped her wine before continuing, "Tsk...no thanks. I rather risk my life with my old safe way of scheming than being a reckless whore that only knows how to pull down pants and suck up to every dog's dream despite knowing it's a death sentence. I rather die an honorable death as an old lady who schemed meticulously until death other than die as that bitch."
"You old bitc—" Esmerelda fumed, her eyes bloodshot with rage, looking like a cornered animal ready to pounce on Alicia.
"Go ahead and attack me. Just like the unravished beast you are. Show the entire world the real monster that hides behind that perfect mask," Alicia taunted, her voice ice-cold. "And I can guarantee your downfall will be much quicker than you anticipated. Go on. Go ahead."
Esmerelda fumed, trembling with the violent urge to strike Alicia down right then and there to silence the stinging insults.
But she knew that if she acted recklessly now, everything would fall apart—especially after the damaging scandal that had rocked the palace just the day before yesterday. Her father, King Damascus Brentford, would never forgive her, and neither would her monstrous cousin, Ezekiel Slovak. He would skewer her alive without a second thought.
Swallowing her burning anger, Esmerelda took a deep, painful breath and averted her gaze from Alicia, instead looking down at the ladies interacting and dining below.
For once, she was intensely glad that the dais was set on a high balcony far removed from the commotion underneath, ensuring that no one had overheard their venomous exchange. Otherwise, she wouldn't have been able to handle the sheer humiliation. That was precisely why the old hag had been so brazen with her insults; had they been within earshot of others, Alicia would have been forced to cloak her barbs in polite, courtly code.
"It isn't fair that she is allowed to insult me so openly," she thought bitterly. She would have loved nothing more than to give the old hag a piece of her mind, but unfortunately, she couldn't. She was forced to swallow her anger like a bitter pill.
Huffing, Esmerelda turned back and said, "I only offered that advice earlier so you would be careful, Mother, and guard your reputation with dignity. But since my opinions are not to your liking, then... very well. I promise I will stay out of it from now on. Your mess isn't mine to clean up. Now, if you will please excuse me..."
She rose abruptly from her chair, gave Alicia a stiff, obligatory curtsey without even deigning to look her way, and walked away in a huff.
Alicia turned to watch her retreating figure and sighed softly. "What a pity that woman is. Tsk... But I truly hope that insult awakens your mind and willpower, Esmerelda, so you can see what a puppet you're being played for and put an end to this madness. At least for their sake."
She turned her gaze toward young Princess Elizabeth, who was laughing and enjoying her conversations with several noble ladies nearby.
Even though Elizabeth was only fourteen years old, she was coming of age soon, and eighteen years wasn't all that far away. As her grandmother, Alicia was determined to ensure she married at least a good man out there.
Finally, Alicia sighed as she averted her gaze from Elizabeth, turning back toward the grand doors where Ariel had walked out earlier, and whispered into the quiet air,
"Where did she go?"
*************************************************
Spoiler alert
The sound of a running shower echoed in the dimly lit room.
Inside the bathroom, a beautiful figure with fiery red hair was gracefully, cleaning herself under the shower.
She turned it off after a while.
Before exiting and heading towards the towel rack.
She picked a drying towel wiped it across her body before tying her hair into a messy bun and covering it with the towel.
She then took hold of another towel and wrapped it around her body.
She slipped quietly out of the bathroom and into her walk-in closet.
She hummed a sweet tune as she looked at herself in the full length mirror hanging on the way.
She paused as she heard a faint sound of a door opening.
She listened intently and heard the sound coming from the mirror.
She stepped closer cautiously as she heard movement on the other side of the wall.
She leaned in closer and pressed her ear to the mirror to hear more.
She stood like that for a while listening in until...
"Aaah!"
She yelped as the mirror curved into the wall like it was opened like a door.
She yelped as she fell in and landing on something hard.
She thought it was the floor, so she grumbled as she rubbed her sore temples.
"Ow...that hurt..." she rubbed temples and unwrapped her tower to stand and fix it because part of her breasts had moved out of the towel.
However as she tried to stand...she couldn't.
"What the..." she grumbled as she tried to stand but slipped and fell again.
"Hey....what gibs..." she complained but her words died down in her throat as a low animalistic growl echoed in the room.
Moonlight spilled into the dark space. Her eyes widened in shock as they gazed upon a glistening eight packed muscled frame.
She squeezed it just to make sure that she was not imagining it and received another growl and a grumble. "You truly are fucking enjoying this aren't you.."
At the voice's remark she slowly lifted her gaze to the top, only for her blood to run cold at the sight of two deep crimson eyes staring directly at her.
Well not at her but the view that she reviewed from her unwrapped towel.
She could see the beast swallow in desire before dropping the usual cliché line.
"You are in some serious trouble..."
'Seriously..not again!'
The situation just got serious
How will she escape from this one?
Tune in to find out...