"Did Rose say all these things?" she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the noise.
The hall fell silent again. Her directness shocked them. The accusing princesses exchanged glances, their hesitation betraying them.
Salviana’s jaw tightened. "Did you tell her? Did you believe her nonsense?" Her voice rose, sharp and commanding.
Silence.
"I knew she was a gossip-monger, a blackmailer." Salviana’s tone was biting now, and her words reverberated across the room. "She has no place in this family."
Her words struck a chord. Several princesses frowned, their lips tightening in discomfort, but no one dared refute her.
"I am the wife of Prince Alaric, son of the forr queen," she continued, her voice unwavering. "I will not be reduced to soone you scorn and ridicule based on the lies of a commoner. I am not the one who should feel ashad here."
The air grew heavier as Salviana’s words sank in. "I am utterly disappointed in this family. While you sit here weaving falsehoods and tearing each other apart, you allow the true evil of this world to take root in your hearts. What kind of rulers will you be if this is how you spend your ti?"
"Princess Salviana—" Irene began, attempting to interrupt.
But Salviana rose abruptly, her fingers curling into tight fists at her sides.
The movent was startling, her sudden resolve silencing the room once more. "Enough. I will not waste my ti entertaining your pettiness. Why was this eting called?"
There was a long pause. The princesses glanced at one another, unsure of what to say. Finally,
Crown Princess Lilian, who had been sitting quietly, spoke up. "The king’s annual birthday celebration is in three days. Preparations are to begin imdiately."
Salviana tilted her head slightly, her fiery gaze locking onto Lilian. For a mont, she studied her. Lilian’s voice had held a trace of uncertainty, and her earlier expression had seed confused, even conflicted.
"I wouldn’t want to disrupt your preparations with my witchcraft," Salviana said at last, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I’ll attend the celebration."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, her dress flowing behind her like a trail of midnight.
Her steps were firm, her posture straight, and her head held high. The scent of her perfu lingered in the air, sweet and sharp, as though daring anyone to stop her.
The remaining princesses sat frozen in their seats, stunned by what had just transpired.
Even Irene, Beatrice, and Genevieve—so eager to accuse monts ago—seed at a loss for words.
"What just happened?" Jennifer muttered under her breath.
Lilian, still seated, exhaled softly. "She happened."
~~{────────
~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~
Jean hadn’t co to attend to Salviana that morning, which was unusual.
Typically, Jean was the first to appear, her warm deanor and quick efficiency a constant in Salviana’s daily routine.
But yesterday, Jean had approached her mistress with a rare request.
"Princess Salviana, may I take tomorrow off?" Jean had asked hesitantly, her hands clasped together in front of her. "Lucius needs help arranging his house... or, well, the ruins of it."
Salviana had smiled gently at her. "Of course, Jean. Take Sarah with you if you need extra hands. It sounds like quite the task."
Jean’s face had lit up with gratitude. "Thank you, Princess. That would be most helpful."
When night fell, Jean and Lucius set out together toward his crumbling mansion.
The structure, though once grand, was now little more than a shadow of its forr glory—dust-covered, with broken beams and shattered windows.
It was overwhelming, but Jean’s determination didn’t waver.
Over the last few days, she and the other maids had ticulously prepared for this mont.
They had ventured into the bustling markets to gather cleaning supplies, fresh linens, and small decor to breathe life back into the space.
Jean had even picked out new curtains and rugs, envisioning the once-grand halls transford into sothing welcoming and warm.
Lucius had initially been indifferent about the entire endeavor. "It’s just a house," he had said, shrugging when Jean asked for his input on colors and designs. "Why put so much effort into sothing so broken?"
But as the work began that night, and Jean threw herself into scrubbing soot-covered walls and organizing what little remained intact, Lucius couldn’t help but be drawn in.
He watched her with a mixture of curiosity and admiration, noting how she humd softly to herself, her focus unwavering despite the enormity of the task.
"You don’t have to do all this, you know," Lucius muttered, leaning against the doorfra as she dusted a mantelpiece.
Jean glanced at him, her face glowing with sweat and effort. "I want to," she said simply. "You deserve a place that feels like ho."
Her words struck a chord he hadn’t expected. Lucius found himself picking up a broom, and before long, he was hauling debris and hamring nails alongside her.
He’d grumble occasionally, but the corner of his lips betrayed a smile every ti she gave him a task.
Bit by bit, the ruins began to resemble sothing livable.
Though the mansion’s grandeur could never fully be restored, the warmth Jean brought to the space made up for it.
Lucius found himself looking forward to the monts they’d pause for a quick al, sharing laughter over the ridiculous amount of dust that clung to their clothes.
By the ti dawn approached, the two stood in the main hall, surveying their progress.
The room still bore scars of its past, but there was life in it now—a spark of what it could be.
"Not bad," Lucius admitted, his tone softer than usual.
Jean smiled at him, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "It’s a start."
Unbeknownst to them, Sarah was on her way to et Jean that morning, as instructed by Salviana.
Though her primary role was to assist Jean, Sarah couldn’t help but be curious about how Lucius had ended up involved in such a task.
As she approached the mansion, she noticed Lucius standing outside, his arms crossed as he observed the sunrise discreetly.
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