The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 106

Beatrice sat stiffly in the rosewood chair, her back straight, her gaze fixed on the gilded clock over the fireplace. Ethel paced behind her, her heels clicking sharply against the stone floor, while Conrad stood by the window, arms crossed.

"You need to act like you want this," Ethel snapped. "Because I promise you, that Aurberg girl does."

"Gertrude is not a concern," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Conrad turned. "She’s a soldier’s daughter with a merchant’s ambition. That makes her dangerous."

"She has nothing compared to our legacy," Ethel added. "And she’s not afraid to run her mouth about wanting the crown. If you keep playing the quiet martyr, she’ll be wearing your ring by summer."

Beatrice looked up. "So what do you want me to do? Seduce him?"

Ethel narrowed her eyes. "I want you to win. Smile, laugh, compete if you must, but do not let her get ahead. We didn’t raise a daughter to lose."

Conrad stepped forward and placed a hand on Beatrice’s shoulder.

"You’re still favored. But that won’t last if you disappear again."

They left later that afternoon, along with the rest of the noble families. Beatrice watched from a corridor window as the carriages rolled through the palace gates. She didn’t wave.

**********

She didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Truly.

She was headed towards the west courtyard when she heard raised voices echoing softly through a side corridor. She paused instinctively, back against the wall.

"She’s not the right choice," Lila hissed.

The prince’s voice followed, low and tense. "Then who would you have me choose?"

"You know who." Then Lila added. "Because I can’t. And you can, so do it."

Beatrice stood frozen, her heart in her throat. The conversation ended there, footsteps fading.

She didn’t understand what it meant. But something about Lila’s tone stayed with her.

During luncheon, Beatrice spoke to Queen Cecile with a polite request.

"May I spend the hour in the gardens with Elisha, Your Majesty?"

The Queen raised a brow but nodded. "I believe she’s already waiting in the shade. Don’t lose her."

Beatrice found the kitten curled near the fountain, eyes blinking lazily in the light. She scooped her up, pressing the soft fur against her cheek.

Johanna appeared minutes later, gliding across the stones in a soft cream gown.

"She’s a darling," she said.

Beatrice smiled faintly. "She’s a little thief of attention."

Johanna sat beside her on the edge of the fountain. "You were in a hurry to leave dinner last night."

"J-just tired," Beatrice blushed, remembering her little rendezvous with Francois.

Johanna was about to reply when Gertrude’s voice cut through the garden.

"Lovely company. Should I be jealous, or are you both just hiding from the horses?"

Beatrice straightened. "We were enjoying a quiet moment."

Gertrude laughed. "No such thing in this palace. Ride with us later. It’ll clear your heads."

Horseback riding began after tea. The stables were prepared and the attendants ready. Beatrice approached her mare cautiously. The last time she’d ridden, she nearly broke her neck.

Gertrude swung onto her steed with practiced ease. Princess Lila and Johanna rode ahead, their silhouettes framed by the orange-tinged afternoon light.

Francois, Beatrice, and Gertrude followed at a more relaxed pace.

Gertrude wasted no time.

"Tell me, Your Highness," she said, nudging her horse closer to his, "what do you value more in a partner? Grace or strength?"

Francois smiled politely. "That depends on the kind of war we’re fighting."

Beatrice rolled her eyes.

"Perhaps a bit of both, then?" Gertrude pressed.

"Balance is always admirable."

Beatrice dug her heels in slightly. "So is subtlety."

Gertrude turned to her, mock-surprised. "Oh? Are we speaking now?"

"I thought it was time someone did."

They reached the clearing soon after and the horses slowed.

Gertrude smirked. "Let’s race."

Beatrice blinked. "No."

"Scared?"

"Smart."

Francois interjected, "A race might not be wise."

Gertrude ignored him. "Winner gets a kiss on the prince’s cheek."

Beatrice went still.

Gertrude’s eyes gleamed. "Unless Beatrice is willing to forfeit."

Beatrice’s hands tightened on the reins. The image of the lake flashed in her mind. The quiet way Francois had once leaned in on that boat. The wind in her hair. The kiss on her cheek.

She gritted her teeth. "Fine."

"I’ll sit this one out." Johanna from a distance called out.

Gertrude clicked her tongue. "Pity."

The attendants readied the start.

"Just hold the reins steady," Francois whispered to her.

Beatrice nodded.

Then the signal came. Gertrude shot forward. Beatrice’s horse jerked once, then lunged.

She wasn’t ready. She slipped sideways in the saddle, grip failing.

"Lady Beatrice!"

The fall came fast and hard. Wind knocked out of her lungs, back scraping the stone. The world spun around her.

Francois was there seconds later, off his horse and kneeling beside her.

"Are you hurt?"

"My pride, mostly."

He laughed, relieved. "Don’t move."

He lifted her carefully, arms strong under her knees.

Gertrude rode back, smug until she saw Beatrice’s expression.

She flashed a victorious smirk despite the pain. Beatrice rested her head against Francois’ chest and mouthed... "Worth it."

Francois carried her with ease, his brows furrowed in concentration as he ignored the murmurs trailing behind them. Beatrice didn’t dare look back. She didn’t need to see Gertrude’s face to know the woman was fuming. She could feel the weight of that stare like the sun on her back.

"I told you it’s not wise to race," Francois muttered, more exasperated than angry.

"You didn’t stop me," she said lightly, though each step he took sent jolts through her spine. Her tailbone throbbed and her elbow burned, but gods, it had been worth it to wipe that look off Gertrude’s face.

He glanced down at her, lips twitching. "You’re insufferable."

"Only when provoked."

He snorted, shaking his head, and pushed open the infirmary door with his shoulder. The attendants inside scrambled to assist. Francois lowered her gently onto the bed, his arms lingering just a moment too long.

"I’ll fetch the physician," he said, finally letting go.

As he turned to leave, she reached out and caught his wrist.

"My prince..."

He stopped.

"I didn’t fall on purpose."

He smiled faintly, but didn’t turn back. "I know."

And then he was gone. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

The physician arrived moments later, inspecting her arm and applying a salve to her bruised hip. No fractures, just a rough tumble. The worst of it would be soreness and humiliation.

She could live with that. Especially if it bought her that moment in his arms.

Beatrice laid still after the bandages were wrapped, her eyes on the high wooden beams above the infirmary bed. The scent of mint and something metallic filled the air. She listened to the quiet. Just beyond the windows, birds called faintly to each other.

She wondered if Gertrude would twist the story. That she’d fallen behind because she was afraid. That she wasn’t strong enough. But Beatrice didn’t care. Not tonight.

She had the prince’s attention. Earned, not bought.

Later, when she was well enough to stand, she was escorted back to her chamber with strict orders to rest.

Lily helped her undress and change into a nightgown, her hands gentler than usual. She didn’t speak of the fall. Just fetched warm tea and fluffed the pillows.

Beatrice drank slowly, staring at the flickering candle on the nightstand.

"Lily," she said eventually, voice low, "do you think the other girls want to win? Or... need to?"

The maid blinked. "I don’t understand, my lady."

"Gertrude wants to win. Johanna... I don’t know if she does. And me..."

"I think... you’re both, my lady." Lily said softly. "You need to win, and you want to win as well."

Beatrice grew silent, unable to respond at the maid’s observation.

Lily gathered the empty cup. "Would you like the curtains drawn?"

"No. Leave them open."

When Lily left, Beatrice walked to the window, hands braced on the cold stone sill. The courtyard below shimmered in silver light, peaceful and too quiet. Somewhere beneath it, alliances were being built. Promises being made, and maybe broken too.

She thought of Lila. Of the argument she’d overheard. The desperation in her voice.

You know who.

And then, that kiss.

Beatrice closed her eyes.

Somewhere behind all of this, there was still the book. The plot. The Chapters she once knew, slipping from her like water through her hands.

Now, a new character had entered. Gertrude doesn’t just challenge her. She unbalance everything.

With the ache of bruises in her bones and the ghost of Francois’ warmth still clinging to her skin, she smiled faintly into the dark.

**********

Beatrice didn’t sleep much.

Her body was aching. The throb in her shoulder and tailbone were flaring each time she shifted beneath the blankets. But it wasn’t just the bruises that kept her awake. It was the way Francois had looked at her. Half-concerned, and half-amused.

Then there’s Gertrude.

That woman didn’t blinked when she proposed a public kiss as a prize. She didn’t even hesitate when Beatrice hit the ground. Gertrude was playing to win. Not charming or currying favors. She was staking a claim, and Beatrice could feel the court responding to it.

When dawn broke, it did so quietly, the first light brushing gold against the stone floors. Beatrice was already upright, wrapped in a robe, her tea untouched beside her.

She had asked herself the question all night: if this wasn’t the same story, what kind of story was it now?

And more importantly, how far was she willing to go to survive it?