The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 79

The Da Villes were leaving.

Not in disgrace, they were too powerful for that. And not in triumph either. But with the cold, clinical efficiency that had always defined them. Their carriages rolled out at dawn, silent as blades.

Beatrice watched from the upper balcony as the procession began its descent toward the main gates. She hadn’t slept. The events of the past days had turned the palace into a crucible, and her body still ached with the lingering heat of it. She gripped the marble railing, knuckles white.

They had summoned her privately before departing.

It wasn’t a request.

She entered the antechamber alone. No guards. No advisors. Just Conrad, Ethel, and Magnus. Each one sharper than the last.

The door clicked shut behind her.

"Well," Lord Conrad said, rising from his chair. "The future queen arrives."

Beatrice didn’t smile. "You’re leaving early."

"We’ve accomplished what we came for," Ethel said, smoothing her gloves.

Magnus remained leaning against the hearth, silent, arms crossed.

"And what exactly did you come for?" Beatrice asked.

Lord Conrad stepped closer. "To ensure you remembered who you are. And who made you."

"I made myself," she said, steady.

He smiled thinly. "Don’t start rewriting the past now, Beatrice. You know how dangerous that can be."

She didn’t move.

Lady Ethel spoke next. "You’ve entangled yourself with the crown. That means your life is no longer your own. And neither are your words."

Her jaw tightened. "You’re afraid I’ll tell them what you did."

"We’re reminding you what happens if you do," Magnus said.

The fire cracked in the hearth.

Conrad took a slow breath. "You’ve learned, haven’t you? That truth has weight. Imagine what it might cost if you forced it into the light."

Beatrice looked between them.

"Are you threatening me?"

Her mother stepped forward, voice soft. "No, Beatrice. We’re protecting you. You think aligning yourself with the crown makes you safe?"

"It makes me seen," she said.

"It makes you exposed," Conrad snapped. "And we are the only ones who still know what you’re capable of. What you’re holding back. We won’t be here to steer you anymore. So steer carefully."

"I won’t speak a word. Not because I’m afraid of you. But because I’m not ready to set the world on fire."

Conrad’s gaze sharpened. "Yet."

"Goodbye, Father." Beatrice turned.

"Goodbye, your grace," he said, voice cool. "We’ll be watching."

They were gone by midday.

And with them, a curtain seemed to lift from the palace halls. Not relief, not quite, but a change in pressure. The Da Villes no longer loomed in every shadow. But their echoes lingered.

Beatrice spent the afternoon in her chambers, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure. Retaliation? Applause?

Neither came.

Instead, Lily entered quietly after the bells rang five times.

"There’s been a request," she said. "From the queen. You are to dine with her and the king in private."

Beatrice blinked. "What?"

"That’s all I have been told."

She sighed aloud as she stood. Her limbs ached, but her voice was steady.

"Just the two of them? What about Francois? Or the princess?"

"I’m not really sure, my lady."

She exhaled, then nodded. "Tell them I’ll come."

Lily nodded back. "An attendant will escort you in an hour."

She said nothing. Just nodded and let Lily help her change into something formal, but subdued. Deep forest-green. No necklace, no Da Ville red. Just quiet precision.

The kind a queen might respect.

She was escorted through the servant corridors, not the main halls. Fewer eyes, fewer whispers. When she entered the dining room, it was already set. One long polished table, three places. The king, pale but upright, sat at the head. Queen Cecile at his right.

They didn’t rise when she entered.

Beatrice bowed low. "Your Majesties."

"Sit," the queen ordered.

So she did.

The first few minutes passed in silence.

Then the king looked up. "You intercepted nearly every goblet that came my way."

"I believed there would be an attempt." Beatrice held his gaze.

"By whom?"

Beatrice hesitated. Her throat burned faintly, a warning curled behind her ribs.

She couldn’t speak the truth. So she exhaled and reached for something else. Something close enough to be plausible.

"I received word that Lucenbourg’s envoy had been pressuring certain minor houses. Ones with reason to destabilize the crown. I didn’t know who would act. Only that someone would."

Queen Cecile narrowed her eyes. "What word? From whom?"

"An unsigned message, left outside my chambers. I burned it after reading."

It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t impossible.

"Why didn’t you bring it to me?" the queen asked.

Beatrice lifted her chin. "Because if I was wrong, I would’ve caused panic. And if I was right... I had to be there to stop it."

The king leaned forward slightly. "And you believe Lucenbourg had a hand in it?"

Beatrice nodded. "I can’t prove it. But their envoy left the banquet early, before the toast. And I saw a servant with his crest near the kitchens. He wasn’t supposed to be there."

Another fabrication, rooted in truth. Enough to turn suspicion just a few degrees sideways.

Queen Cecile exchanged a glance with the king. Then slowly, she leaned back.

"We’ll investigate further. Quietly. For now, the blame will remain unspoken."

Beatrice inclined her head. "That would be wise."

A beat passed.

"You’ve made quite the storm," Queen Cecile said at last.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Beatrice didn’t pretend not to understand.

"You don’t regret it?"

"Only that I didn’t do it sooner."

The king studied her. "You nearly died."

"I know."

"And yet you stayed."

Beatrice exhaled. "If I hadn’t, someone else would have taken the blame. I couldn’t allow that."

Queen Cecile’s voice dropped. "Do you truly want this place? This life?"

Beatrice didn’t hesitate. "No. But I’ll take it. Because someone has to. And I won’t let it fall to someone who doesn’t understand the cost."

The queen held her gaze, then lifted her glass.

"To survival."

Beatrice raised hers in turn.

And drank.