10 A Harlot

I take a look out one of the windows, trying to gauge just how much longer I am going to be trapped in the ostentatious ballroom. About two-ish hours to go, I estimated. These sorts of things tended to officially end around ten, however people tended to stay and continue to mingle until around eleven. So, since my father was the one who decided when we would leave I would be leaving at eleven at the earliest.

I meandered my way to the food tables, it was far enough into the ball now that taking food will not be considered a faux pas for a noblewoman. Going for the food first thing was fine for the men but was seen as unladylike for the women. Only after an hour or so of dancing was it okay for a lady to stop and get food. Just one more ridiculous rule in a long list of them.

I stopped to pick up a rather delicious looking piece of cheesecake. Not a large slice of course, but I would take whatever little bits of joy I could get in these lives and eating delicious food was one of those few untarnished delights.

"Well, would you look at that ladies. I hardly believe my eyes, it is the lovely Lady Blackwood. Come out of her castle to mingle with us mere mortals at last." Of course, nothing good can ever last for me. I take the last bite, setting the plate down, before turning.

I find a group of four giggling noblewomen standing a few paces behind me. The one who spoke, and the obvious leader of the pack, smiled in faux innocence at me when I made eye contact.

"I jest of course. It truly is lovely to see you Lady Blackwood. It has been far to long." This at least is monotonously familiar.

I curtsy at them, their names flitting to mind as though I had always known them and had simply forgotten. A small remnant of the girl who inhabited this body before I awoke.

"Greetings Lady Ardew. It is, of course, a pleasure to see you again." The bare minimum, I remind myself once more. No more, no less. No need to give in to the petty barbs and insults of girls whose biggest worry in life is their popularity. They are not even worth my anger.

"You truly have been remarkably lucky tonight, getting to dance with the crown prince himself." Ah so that was what had drawn their ire. How dull.

One of the ladies minions pipes up then, "Although, perhaps he thought you were in mourning and wanted to cheer you up. Dressed in all that black you do look like you have just come from a funeral."

The girls titter with laughter. My expression does not change. 

Lady Ardew sneers at me then, "do not think that just because he danced with you that it means you have any chance with him. I will be the one to marry him, my father has already gone to talk to the king and the prince about it." She held her head high, voice dripping with disdain and superiority.

Her father was a duke, same as my own. Of course everyone knew that my father was more powerful, he controlled the majority of the northern border, which housed almost all of the countries mining operations. This meant he held control of the production of weapons and armor as well as jewels and gold.

For all that the other dukes held the same title, none of them wielded the same power. After all, the villainess had to be a step above the rest in order to pose a real threat.

"I am well aware I do not have any chance with him, nor do I want one." That was true, he belongs to the female lead after all. There was nothing that was going to be able to get in the way of that. "I wish you luck with your courtship." Of course she is going to fail, after all she is just a side character. She would be lucky to get him to look her way, especially after he falls for Eve. Though at least it might be mildly amusing to watch her try I suppose.

Unfortunately, this response only made the lady angrier. "What, you think your to good for even the prince." Her sneer twists into something even uglier. "You just think your so high and mighty don't you. Looking down on the rest of us as though your so much better. "

Her tirade starts drawing the attention of the people standing nearby. They turn to stare, and begin to gossip. Even though I cannot hear them I am sure their words are just as cruel.

Unaware of the scene she is beginning to cause, Lady Ardew takes a step closer to me and continues on, "Well, let me tell you something. Someday soon your going to realize that your no better than the rest of us. And I'm going to be there to laugh at you when you do." Well if that wasn't an outpouring of inferiority complex I don't know what is. I mean really, I said two sentences to this girl.

In her tirade she had actually reached out and grabbed my forearm. I look down at her hand now, before glancing back up. "If your done now, could you please get your hand off me." I request, astonishingly politely I might add, considering the rant she just went on.

Of course, my mild attempt at politeness just infuriates the girl further. She does remove her hand, however, this is just to raise it to go to slap me.

With a sigh I raise an arm to block her strike.. When it doesn't come I lower my arm to find a man standing between us holding Lady Ardew's wrist. 

"That is quite enough. This lady has been nothing but courteous to you throughout you conversation and you return this by insulting her and then attempting to strike her. Has all your sense abandoned you." His voice is harsh, directing a disapproving glare towards the offending lady. 

He is also, I note with growing dismay, very obviously a main character. Chocolate brown hair, blue eyed, and by process of elimination obviously the Childhood Best Friend. He is always the protagonists protector, often becoming a knight and going on to protect her when she becomes queen. So I suppose it is not that surprising that he would come to the defense of, from his perspective, a girl being picked on for seemingly no reason. Treated much the same way Eve is likely often treated.

By now Lady Ardew has noticed how many eyes are on her, and is looking rather humiliated. (This humiliation will, no doubt only further fuel her hatred of me in the future). She stutters out some excuse, ripping her hand out of his grip, about how mister childhood friend simply doesn't understand, that I'm the one at fault, before turning and walking away. Trying desperately to feign that same confidence and superiority she felt before, while under the judging eyes of the crowd.

The man turns to me then, "Are you quite alright my lady?" His concern shining from his earnest expression.