The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 98

Beatrice watched from her window, hands gripping the edge of the sill until her knuckles ached. Down in the courtyard, the Lockhart carriage was pulling through the gates, the family’s blue and silver crest glinting dully against the morning light.

She had been pacing all morning, tension coiling tighter with every passing hour. Now that the moment was here, she found herself frozen. The stage was set, the first move about to be made.

She threw on her cloak quickly and slipped out of her chambers, Elisha meowing in protest as she closed the door behind her. She didn’t go near the gates, it would be foolish to be seen loitering. Instead, she made her way to the ground floor, taking up a quiet post by one of the long gallery windows that overlooked the entrance courtyard.

The king and queen were already present, standing tall and formal at the bottom of the grand steps to receive the Lockharts. A small cluster of guards surrounded them, their expressions were blank and professional.

Beatrice watched the procession unfold with a tightness in her chest.

The inspection began right away as Lord and Lady Lockhart descended from the carriage.

She couldn’t hear the exchange, but she could see the stiff set of the guards’ shoulders, and the sudden murmur that rippled through the crowd. One of the royal inspectors held aloft a folded document, marked with a seal that from here looked dark and ominous even in the bright sun.

The queen’s expression turned to stone. The king barked an order.

The Lockharts were surrounded in seconds. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

Beatrice turned away before anyone could notice her lingering. She moved down a side hall, her heart pounding with a sick rhythm she couldn’t calm.

The council was called within the hour.

Beatrice stood at the edge of the council chamber, flanked by her parents. Magnus sat stiffly across the room, a permanent scowl etched into his features. The Lockharts occupied the opposite side, their faces a complicated weave of outrage, and fear.

The king rose first.

"A letter," he said, holding the damning document aloft, "bearing the seal of Lucenbourg’s war council, was found hidden among Lord Lockhart’s belongings during routine inspection."

A low rumble moved through the chamber.

"Forgery," Lord Lockhart snapped, his voice cutting across the room. "We know nothing of it."

Queen Cecile’s gaze turned sharp.

"Curious, then, that we find it tucked among your personal effects," she said.

Lady Lockhart’s mouth thinned into a hard line. Before the king could press further, the queen shifted focus.

"We must also address," she said coolly, "the other offenses."

She turned her attention to Lady Lockhart.

"We have heard that anonymous threats were sent to Lady Beatrice in recent weeks. Threats bearing the Lockhart seal."

The silence was suffocating.

Lady Lockhart’s face flushed. She opened her mouth, closed it, then finally said, "It was foolishness. A p-petty warning. Nothing more."

"You admit it, then?" Queen Cecile pressed.

"Yes," Lady Lockhart said bitterly. "We were... displeased. About the betrothal announcement."

A whisper of shock threaded through the council.

"No real harm was meant," Lady Lockhart added quickly. "Only to... to unsettle."

The queen looked unimpressed. "Unsettling the future queen of Vasqueria is not a small offense, my lady."

Across the room, Johanna stood stiff and silent, her face unreadable.

King Marshall turned next to Magnus.

"And what of the letter found hidden in your former guest suite?"

Magnus straightened, his jaw tight.

"Forged," he said immediately. "I never saw such a letter. It was planted. Just like every other lie spun in these halls."

His voice rang with conviction, but it did little to soften the suspicion thick in the air.

The king exchanged a look with the queen.

"Given the gravity of these offenses," King Marshall said, "and the uncertainty surrounding the documents’ origins, I find it necessary to call for a formal trial."

Murmurs broke out among the gathered lords and ministers.

"A tribunal," Queen Cecile confirmed. "Composed of our most trusted judges."

"The accused shall stand," the king said, "and the truth, whatever it may be, will be dragged into the light."

Lord and Lady Lockhart bowed stiffly, their faces dark with fury. Johanna bowed more slowly, her hands trembling slightly at her sides.

Magnus barely inclined his head.

Beside her, Beatrice felt her father’s posture sharpen, radiating silent approval. Ethel Da Ville wore a faint smile, like a cat watching birds thrash helplessly inside a cage.

As the council adjourned, Conrad Da Ville stepped forward.

"Your Majesties," he said smoothly, "might I commend your wisdom in lifting my daughter’s house arrest so promptly. It is only fitting that the future queen of Vasqueria be treated with the dignity her station demands."

A ripple of agreement moved through the room.

Her throat tightened. She glanced across the aisle and caught Johanna’s expression.

Dark, closed off, and betrayed.

The more Conrad and Ethel sang her praises, the darker Johanna’s gaze grew, until it was nearly hollow.

Beatrice knew that look. It was the look of someone realizing that no matter how hard they had fought, the war was already over, and they had lost.

The council dispersed.

Beatrice lingered behind, unsettled. She found herself moving almost without thought, following the trail of silent servants down the east wing where Johanna was still confined.

The guards let her through after a brief nod.

She found Johanna by the window, staring out over the gardens with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"You shouldn’t be here," Johanna said without turning.

"I know," Beatrice said quietly as she closed the door behind her. "I wanted to see how you were."

Johanna laughed. It was an ugly sound, brittle and cutting.

"How I am?" she said, spinning to face her. "You mean how it feels to be thrown to the wolves while you sit pretty?"

"That’s not fair," Beatrice said, struggling to keep her voice calm.

"Isn’t it?" Johanna snapped. "First you take the crown, now you take my life?"

Beatrice stiffened. "I didn’t take anything."

"You took everything!" Johanna cried. "Do you think I don’t see it? I was supposed to be the one standing beside Francois. Not you! I was supposed to—"

She broke off, breathing hard.

Beatrice crossed the room slowly.

"It was never supposed to be you," Johanna said bitterly. "Why are you even here?!"

"I’m sorry," Beatrice said softly.

Johanna let out a short, ragged laugh.

"You’re sorry?"

Beatrice looked at her guiltily.

"Not sorry enough," Johanna spat, and shoved her.

Harder than Beatrice expected.

Her foot caught on the edge of the bedframe. She stumbled backward, struck the corner of the heavy wood, and crumpled to the floor.

The last thing she heard was Johanna’s gasp before darkness swallowed her whole.