The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 58

The sun had barely lifted above the palace walls when Beatrice found herself in the small drawing room off the east corridor, a room most of the court forgot existed. It was warm, quiet, and smelled faintly of orange blossoms and old books.

She hadn’t slept. Not really. Her mind had spiraled all night, replaying every word Magnus had said, every expression Francois had worn. The knowledge she now carried pressed heavy against her ribs. And yet, she knew better than to show it.

Her hands were steady. Her hair was braided neatly. Her tea sat untouched.

So when Johanna entered the room, softly and unannounced, Beatrice didn’t flinch.

"I thought I might find you here," Johanna said gently, stepping into the light.

Beatrice didn’t rise. "You always did have a knack for knowing where I’d hide."

Johanna gave a small, half-smile. "You’re not hiding."

She shifted on her seat.

"Are you?"

Beatrice glanced toward the window, where sunlight stretched across the floor like a trap.

"I don’t know. Is it hiding if no one’s looking for you?"

Johanna moved to pour herself a cup of tea, her movements practiced, graceful.

"You’re avoiding something."

"Many things," Beatrice replied. "Most of them tedious."

The words came out light. Measured. But they felt dull in her mouth.

Johanna took the seat across from her, stirring a bit of honey into her tea.

"There’s talk, you know."

"There’s always talk."

"This time it’s about you."

"Is it ever not?" Beatrice turned her head, slowly.

"Beatrice—" Johanna hesitated. "You’ve been... so different lately."

"I’ve been many things."

"I mean it." Johanna’s eyes searched hers. "You look tired."

Beatrice didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not without unraveling something.

So Johanna continued, her voice softer now. "Did something happen?"

Beatrice wanted to laugh. Of all people, Johanna asking that question felt like a cruel trick of fate. But she didn’t laugh. She didn’t break.

She simply said, "Nothing I can’t handle."

Johanna leaned back, sipping her tea. The silence stretched between them, long enough for the room to feel too big.

"I used to think you hated me," Johanna said quietly.

Beatrice blinked. "Used to?"

Another faint smile. "Well. I’ve adjusted my expectations."

Beatrice leaned forward, finally taking a sip of her cold tea.

"What changed?" 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝙚𝙬𝓮𝙗𝒏𝙤𝒗𝙚𝙡.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"You."

Beatrice met her gaze then. And she hated how sincere Johanna looked. How much warmth there still was in her voice. As if she hadn’t been warned. As if she hadn’t seen the danger.

"You shouldn’t trust me," Beatrice said.

The words were out before she could stop them.

Johanna didn’t look surprised. "I know."

That brought Beatrice up short. "You know?"

"I’m not naive." Johanna set her cup down carefully. "But I also believe people can change."

Beatrice laughed, low and bitter. "That’s rich coming from the girl everyone thinks is a saint."

"I’m not a saint," Johanna said. "I just don’t think fear should stop people from being kind."

"Even if it costs them?"Beatrice stared at her

Johanna nodded. "Especially then."

Something inside Beatrice cracked, just a little. A hairline fracture in the mask she wore so well.

"You’re going to get hurt one day," she said. "If you keep believing things like that."

Johanna’s expression didn’t falter. "Maybe. But I’d rather believe and be wrong than expect the worst and never be surprised."

"You’re reckless." Beatrice shook her head.

Johanna smiled. "So are you."

For a moment, the room felt unbearably still.

Beatrice looked down at her hands. Her nails were clean. Her rings gleamed in the morning light. She looked exactly like the lady the court expected her to be.

And yet...

She felt like she was fraying at the edges.

"Why did you really come here?" she asked finally.

Johanna stood, brushing her hands down the front of her skirt. "Because I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"And?" Beatrice tilted her head.

Johanna hesitated in the doorway. "I think you’re anything but."

Then she left.

And for the first time in days, Beatrice allowed herself to close her eyes and feel it. The weight of everything. The dread. The pressure. The things she couldn’t say.

Not yet. But soon.

Because kindness, she had learned, could be just as dangerous as cruelty.

And Johanna had just reminded her why.

Beatrice didn’t move for a long time.

Johanna’s presence lingered in the air even after she left. The scent of rosewater and tea, the softness of her voice, the way she somehow always managed to look at Beatrice like she was something salvageable.

It was infuriating. It was dangerous.

Beatrice rose slowly, walking to the window. The garden below shimmered in the morning sun, quiet and deceivingly peaceful. Courtiers strolled along the hedges in small clusters, and somewhere, music drifted faintly from a distant rehearsal.

She pressed her fingers against the windowpane. She wasn’t alright. Johanna was right about that.

But what scared her more was how badly she wanted to be.

Her reflection in the glass stared back. Pale, tired, sharp-eyed. Not quite the villain. Not yet. But close.

Behind her, the door creaked open.

"Still brooding?" Lily’s voice was dry.

Beatrice didn’t turn around. "I thought I told you to give me an hour."

"You did," Lily said. "But I also know what that means."

She stepped inside, setting a folded cloak over the arm of the chair.

"Figured you’d need something warmer. The archives are cold this time of year."

Beatrice finally glanced back. "I’m not going to the archives."

"Then where?" Lily raised a brow.

"Nowhere you need to follow."

Lily didn’t move. "Is it going to be dangerous?"

Beatrice didn’t answer.

"That’s a yes," Lily muttered. She sighed. "I hope you know I don’t do emergency sewing jobs for corpses."

"Duly noted." Beatrice almost smiled.

Lily stepped closer, dropping her voice. "Seriously. If things are starting to shift, I should know. Even if you can’t tell me everything."

Beatrice hesitated. "Something’s coming."

"That’s vague."

"I know."

Lily crossed her arms. "And Johanna?"

Beatrice looked away.

Lily sighed. "She’s not your enemy, my lady."

Beatrice swallowed hard. "No. But she might still be a casualty."

And there it was. The truth they both didn’t want to name.

Lily stepped back, quiet now.

"I’ll be nearby if you need me," she said. "Don’t wait too long to ask."

The door clicked softly behind her.

Beatrice stayed by the window for a while longer, watching the garden begin to fill. She could see the queen now, draped in lavender, flanked by her entourage. Johanna trailed just behind, smiling politely, unaware.

A perfect morning. A perfect stage.

And Beatrice wasn’t ready to pull any strings just yet.

But soon. Very soon.