The Heroine Feels More Like a Villainess to Me - Chapter 7 (Patreon)

Silence followed us as the queen marched through the crowd, the people parting for her as they sensed her palpable wrath. The only one left obliviously unaware was Lord Alekto. He stood apart, leaning against a large pillar at the edge of the dance floor. His eyes moved over the swirling skirts and fluttering coattails like a hawk. His son stood beside him, and from our approach, I could now see that the softness of his features were a lie. He, too, had a sharpness to his gaze, a pride in his posture.

Lord Alekto's gaze finally turned to us as the final barrier of people practically threw themselves out of the way, their silence amplifying the clicking sound of the queen's heels against the marble floor. She released our hands as she approached, but we stayed close behind.

"Dear cousin," he drawled in greeting, too casual, too familiar, for such a setting. His eyes drifted down to me and Clara, hiding behind the queen's skirts, and he smirked. "It seems you've brought along a few little piglets. I didn't take you for one to let yourself roll in the mud."

The queen tensed, and I could almost imagine her arch and spitting like a threatened cat. "You cannot possibly think you can speak to me in such a manner. Nor can you possibly believe I would allow you to say such demeaning things about my guests."

Lord Alekto eyed her curiously, a hint of amusement in his eyes. Yes, he did very much expect her to roll over and accept his vile words.

"You are to leave," the queen said firmly. "Immediately."

"Whatever for, dear cousin?" the man demanded, his tone controlled and tight. He pushed off the pillar, bringing himself to his full height.

"For the disrespect you have shown me. For the vile things you have said to girls so young, despicable enough to make them run and hide. For the deplorable things you have done at countless other instances. You have been let be without consequences for long enough!"

"You cannot possibly believe the words of a pair of children," Lord Alekto said. "Children exaggerate. They tell stories."

"And their stories are consistent with every other thing I've heard about you from mouths I trust far more than yours," Queen Maira hissed. "And everything I've seen since you set your sights on Nikolina!"

Lord Alekto's face turned a violent shade of red. My eyes darted to Iason, to see if he had any reaction to the name. He seemed confused, though more by the whole scenario than the use of the name itself. It wouldn't surprise me if Lord Alekto erased every reference to his former wife from the household. Better to shape the boy into the man Lord Alekto wanted him to be if he wasn't competing with the mother.

"Do not speak her name to me," Lord Alekto growled dangerously.

Queen Maira let out a sharp laugh, humorless and fierce. "Do not act as if you morn the loss of her! You're the one who threw her to the street once she'd served the purpose you wanted her for! You fought so hard to obtain her, you would think you would have treasured her." The queen's expression fell into one of disgust. "But you could never treasure anything other than yourself."

Lord Alekto's arm twitched, as if he meant to strike at the queen but thought better of it. Instead, he chuckled, dark and mocking. "Come now, dear cousin. Even you know how it is. A woman only has one purpose. Even you are below your husband. And should he wish, he could discard you for any concubine that piqued his interest."

The queen did not flinch under his words, did not show her anger. "Leave," she said plainly. "You may do so of your own power, or by force. Those are the only choices you will be given."

Lord Alekto stiffened. Despite his confidence, there was little he could do in the face of an order from the queen that carried the threat of the guards involvement. I gripped the queen's skirt tightly as he leaned down, his eyes dark and full of venom.

"Grandfather will not be pleased," he growled out through clenched teeth. "Your disloyalty will be punished."

The queen smirked. "Grandfather forgets I outrank him." Her smirk fell as her eyes blazed with her own burning conviction. "Neither he nor you will forget it again."

Heavy, stoney silence fell over the hall. For a long moment, I wondered if Lord Alekto would actually force the queen to call on the guards, or if his actions would force their hand. Still his arms shook, as if ready to strike the queen...or wrap his hands around her neck.

"Father?" Iason called, cautious.

"Come, boy," Lord Alekto growled. "Let us not sully ourselves any longer."

He stepped around the queen, his shoulder brushing against hers in one last chance to assert his power. His son trailed after him.

"Iason," the queen called, gentle and melancholy. The boy paused, turning to look at her curiously. The queen smiled at him. "When you are ready, she will be here."

It took me a moment to realize she meant his mother. I wondered if she perhaps took Lord Alekto's former wife in after she was cast out. Prospects for a divorced noblewoman were few and far between unless she were wealthy in her own right. There were a few matriarchal families, but they were rare. Even rarer were families that gave equal treatment to any child that passed through their halls.

Iason seemed to understand her meaning as well. He took the time to bow even as his father barked his name. Perhaps there was a chance for him yet.

The tense silence remained, punctured by the sound of Lord Alekto's heavy footsteps. It was only once the last vestiges of his shadow left the hall did chatter start up once again. The queen sighed heavily, her shoulder sagging in relief. I reached up and squeezed her hand.

"Well done, Your Majesty," I murmured, hoping it brought some comfort.

The queen laughed, bright and bell-like. "Thank you for lending me your courage, little one." She reached out to squeeze Clara's hand as well. "And you, as well. Now you may enjoy the delights of the feast to your heart's content."

Clara giggled, grabbing my hand and pulling me once more towards the refreshment table. Cassender joined us not long after, drawing my eye back towards where our parents were having a rather involved conversation. I narrowed my eyes. That couldn't be good.

"Thank you for helping my mother," Cassender said, fiddling with the cuff of his formal coat.

"I'm not sure we really did all that much," Clara admitted before popping a truffle into her mouth.

"Still, I appreciate it," he insisted. "The less I have to deal with Lord Alekto, the better." He paused, glancing about conspiratorially. "Don't tell anyone I said that."

"I don't think anyone liked him all that much," Clara pointed out as I stuffed a tart in my mouth to keep from having to add to the conversation. "I can't imagine you'd get in trouble for saying that."

Cassender looked uncomfortable. "He might not have been liked, but there are some who agree with him. My great-grandfather, for one. If I get caught saying that, they might try and keep me from becoming king." He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. "That's what my mother says, anyway."

I blinked at that. Who else could they possibly put on the throne? I wracked my brain, trying to remember the family trees I'd come across during my readings. Cassender did have several cousins. Hell, Iason was one. But most of them were on his mother's side, so there was no direct line. At least, none that I was aware of. I'd have to do more digging.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could ask a favor?"

Clara and I blinked owlishly at the sheepish tone of the prince's words. A favor? From us?

"What is it, Your Highness?" I asked.

"Could I...could I perhaps write to you sometimes?" His big, blue eyes looked painfully shy and hopeful. "There aren't many in the court that are my age..."

I kept my face neutral despite the horror that was rising in my chest. Writing? To us? The prince wanted to write to us? Two young, unbetrothed noblewomen? That was a recipe for disaster! And more importantly, all the more likely to lead to one of Elizaveta's Bad Ends!

Before I could attempt to tactfully decline, Clara answered for me. "Yes, of course!"

Cassender's expression brightened and I felt my panic shift to guilt. He looked so happy to just have a friend. Just someone to talk to. And I was going to deny him that just because it could potentially lead to a Bad End. There was no evidence that Cassender and Elizaveta had exchanged letters in their youth. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad?

Right?