Whispers and Consequences

The aftermath of the dance lingered in the air long after the music had stopped. Evelyn had returned to the outskirts of the ballroom, where she could sip her wine in relative peace. But there was no mistaking the sharp glances thrown her way. The other contestants were seething. Lady Margaret, in particular, looked as though she had swallowed something sour. Her delicate features, usually schooled into an expression of effortless charm, were tight with barely concealed irritation. She had been the frontrunner—the one who had positioned herself closest to Alexander since the beginning. And now, Evelyn had disrupted that balance. Not by choice, of course. Evelyn had no interest in charming the prince. But her dance with him, however unwilling, had shifted the atmosphere in the competition. And if the knowing glint in Queen Eleanor's eyes was anything to go by, the royal family had noticed as well.

"Careful, Lady Evelyn."

Evelyn turned at the soft, honeyed voice. Lady Camilla stood beside her now, her red silk gown clinging to her graceful frame. She was a new presence in the contest, a dark horse who hadn't yet revealed her intentions. Unlike Lady Margaret's open disdain, Lady Camilla's expression was unreadable—too polite, too smooth.

"You've made an impression tonight," she continued, taking a slow sip from her goblet. "That can be a dangerous thing."

Evelyn sighed. "Why do I get the feeling you're about to warn me?"

"I wouldn't call it a warning," Lady Camilla mused. "More of… a gentle piece of advice. You may not be here to win, but that doesn't mean others won't see you as a threat."

Evelyn studied Lady Camilla carefully. Unlike Margaret, who thrived on visibility, Camilla had stayed relatively in the background until now. She was observant, strategic—someone who waited before making a move.

"You don't seem particularly concerned," Evelyn noted.

Camilla tilted her head slightly. "That's because I don't need to be."

A cryptic answer. Evelyn wasn't sure what to make of it. Across the room, Lady Margaret was speaking to a group of contestants, her eyes flickering toward Evelyn every so often. Their hushed whispers were followed by soft, knowing laughter.

Ah. So it begins.

Evelyn sighed and took another sip of her wine. "I take it Lady Margaret isn't handling this well?"

"Would you?" Camilla asked, amusement flickering in her gaze. "She's spent the last three weeks crafting the perfect image. And then, in one dance, you became the center of attention."

Evelyn frowned. "That wasn't my fault."

"Of course not." Camilla's smile was small. "But that won't matter to her."

Evelyn had seen this kind of behavior before. The sharp edges hidden beneath practiced elegance. The subtle, unspoken wars fought between women in high society. Lady Margaret wouldn't confront her outright—no, she would weave the narrative carefully, turning the other contestants against Evelyn bit by bit.

Evelyn, who had been content to stay unnoticed, had just become a target.

"Lovely," she muttered.

Camilla chuckled. "You're handling this better than I expected."

"Trust me," Evelyn said dryly. "This isn't my first time being disliked by a room full of noblewomen."

Before Camilla could respond, the music shifted, signaling the next phase of the evening—courtly introductions. The royal family would make their way through the ballroom, exchanging pleasantries with guests. It was a way to reinforce alliances, ensure political ties remained strong. For the contestants, however, it was yet another test—an opportunity to prove their ability to navigate high society.

Evelyn had planned to disappear before this part of the night. Now, thanks to Alexander's dance, that was no longer an option.

The murmurs in the room grew louder as King Aldric and Queen Eleanor rose from their seats, making their way toward the gathered nobility. Prince Alexander followed, his expression unreadable. Evelyn barely had time to prepare before the queen's gaze found hers.

"Lady Evelyn," Queen Eleanor said smoothly, her voice carrying just enough weight to silence nearby conversations. "What a pleasant surprise tonight has been."

Evelyn forced a polite smile. "Your Majesty."

The queen studied her carefully, as if assessing something unseen.

"You dance well," she remarked.

Evelyn nearly scoffed. "Hardly."

A flicker of amusement passed through the queen's expression. "Perhaps not perfectly, but with confidence. That is equally important."

Evelyn wasn't sure how to respond to that.

Alexander, standing just behind his mother, glanced at Evelyn with something close to curiosity. He had been the one to pull her into this mess, and yet, he didn't seem particularly apologetic about it.

Before she could glare at him, the king spoke.

"You're Lancaster's daughter, aren't you?"

Evelyn turned her attention to King Aldric. His voice was deep, authoritative, with the weight of decades of rule behind it.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

King Aldric nodded. "I knew your father. A sharp man. Uncompromising."

There was a pause. It was common knowledge that Evelyn's father had fallen out of favor with the crown years ago. His political decisions had been… controversial, to say the least.

Evelyn met the king's gaze steadily. "I imagine I take after him in some ways."

A beat of silence. Then—

King Aldric chuckled. "So I've heard."

There were a few quiet laughs from the surrounding nobles, but Lady Margaret and the other contestants looked less than amused.

Queen Eleanor, however, was still watching Evelyn with interest.

"I'll be keeping an eye on you, Lady Evelyn," she said lightly.

Evelyn couldn't tell if that was a promise or a threat.

As the royal family moved on, the tension in the room shifted. The damage had been done—whether Evelyn liked it or not, she had captured their attention. And in this competition, attention was a dangerous thing.

Lady Margaret's gaze burned into her from across the room.

Evelyn sighed. This was going to be a long night.

As she turned away, she caught a glimpse of Alexander, standing near the head of the ballroom, speaking to Lady Beatrice, the royal adviser. His expression was unreadable, but Evelyn didn't miss the way his gaze flickered toward her for the briefest of moments before he refocused on the conversation at hand.

What was he thinking? Why had he chosen to dance with her in the first place?

Evelyn had never been naïve. She knew this competition wasn't just about marriage—it was about power, about alliances, about securing a future queen who could uphold the kingdom's stability. And she had no doubt that Alexander, for all his princely charm, was as much a player in this as anyone else.

She wasn't a pawn.

She never had been, and she never would be.

Straightening her shoulders, Evelyn drained the last of her wine and set the glass down on a passing tray. If Lady Margaret wanted a war, she would find that Evelyn had no interest in playing her games.

But if she was forced into one…

She would make sure she didn't lose.