The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 81

They didn’t speak for a long time after she took his hand.

His fingers were warm against hers, steady in a way that made her stomach flutter for reasons she didn’t fully trust yet. But she didn’t let go.

"Do you want to keep walking?" He glanced sideways at her.

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. "Through a moonlit hall? Very scandalous."

"I was thinking farther than that."

She tilted her head. "How far?"

"There’s a path behind the east wing. Cuts through the forest. No guards, no advisors, no mirrors."

She hesitated first, but then whispered, "Lead the way."

They didn’t run. But they moved quickly, laughter rising quietly in their throats as they slipped through a side door, past the garden wall, and into the trees. The palace shrank behind them, just a shadow of gold and stone beneath the moon. What lay ahead was quieter. Wilder.

The path wound between bare trees and low brush, cold air biting gently at their cheeks. Winter’s breath hadn’t fully taken hold, but it whispered in the rustle of dead leaves and the silver mist that clung to the ground.

Eventually, the trees parted into a clearing. And there, still and dark as glass, lay the lake.

Beatrice stopped just at the edge, her shoes sinking slightly into the soft earth.

"It’s beautiful," she murmured.

Francois stood beside her, hands in his coat pockets. "I used to come here as a boy. When court got too loud."

"I didn’t know you ever escaped anything."

"I don’t, not really. But I thought about it."

She turned to him, brows raised. "And now?"

He looked at her.

"I’d rather stay. With the right person."

Her heart jumped. She turned back to the lake, trying to tame the heat in her chest.

"You keep saying things like that."

"Because they’re true."

"And if I say I don’t know what to do with that truth?"

Francois took a step closer. "Then I’ll wait. As long as you need."

The moonlight painted the water in silver ripples. A few late-blooming reeds bent in the breeze, brushing her coat. Everything felt too quiet, too still. But when she turned toward him, he was already watching her.

No pressure, no demands. Just presence.

She stepped forward, just enough to close the space between them.

"I’m not sure I’m built for softness," she said, voice low.

"You don’t have to be." He smiled gently at her.

"I don’t trust this. Us."

"You don’t have to trust it yet," he said. "Just feel it."

Her breath caught in her throat.

And slowly, she leaned in.

He didn’t meet her halfway. He waited until she made the choice.

And when she did, when their mouths finally met, it was slow and careful.

Not perfect, but real.

Warmth bloomed beneath her skin like fire rising from embers. His hand slipped to the back of her neck gently. Her fingers curled into his coat.

When they pulled apart, she didn’t open her eyes right away.

Neither did he.

Eventually, he whispered. "You’re shaking."

"It’s cold," she murmured.

"It’s not just the cold."

She opened her eyes.

"No," she said. "It’s not."

They stood there at the edge of the lake, the stars overhead, the palace behind them, and something unspoken finally broken open between them.

Beatrice looked up at him, her fingers still resting lightly against the lapel of his coat. The wind tugged at her braid, loosing a few strands across her cheek. Francois reached out, brushed them back with the barest touch of his knuckles.

"You didn’t have to kiss me," he said softly, almost teasing.

"I know."

"I was prepared to wait."

She arched an eyebrow. "Are you complaining?"

"No," he said. "Just... surprised."

"At what?"

"That you let yourself want something."

Beatrice blinked. The words struck something deep. Not because they were wrong, but because they were true.

She stepped back, just slightly, needing the space.

"Wanting something doesn’t mean it’s mine to have."

"No," Francois agreed. "But it means you’re still human."

She gave him a faint look. "Was that ever in question?"

"From the way you behave at formal gatherings? Absolutely."

Beatrice laughed then, sharp and sudden. It startled a bird from a nearby branch.

"You’re an ass."

Francois smiled. "You like that about me."

She did, unfortunately.

They walked along the edge of the lake in silence after that, their shoulders brushing now and then. The path was uneven, the ground soft from an earlier frost. But neither of them seemed in any hurry to go back.

"How much longer do you think we have before someone notices we’re missing?" she asked eventually.

"Depends who’s looking," Francois said. "Lila? Fifteen minutes. The queen? Ten. Lily? She knew the moment you stepped out the door."

"She’s terrifying," Beatrice muttered.

"She’s loyal."

"So are you," she said.

He looked at her. "And that surprises you?"

"No. Just reminds me."

They came to a fallen tree near the water’s edge and sat, careful of the damp bark, but close enough for warmth. Beatrice pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders and tilted her head back to look at the sky.

"Do you remember what the stars looked like during the banquet?" she asked.

Francois glanced up. "They were hidden. Too many lanterns."

"Exactly," she said. "That whole room burned so bright, no one could see what mattered."

He stared at her. "And now?"

"They’re still here," she whispered. "They didn’t go anywhere. We just had to step away from the noise."

Francois leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"I didn’t know if you’d let me do this."

"This?"

"Be here, with you. Like this."

Beatrice turned to him, brow furrowed. "I didn’t know if I would either."

He reached for her hand again, this time slower. And when she let him, he laced their fingers together, palm to palm.

"You scare me a little," he admitted.

"Good."

"I mean it."

"I do too."

He laughed, but it was quieter now. Softer.

The lake lapped gently against the shore below them. Somewhere deeper in the woods, an owl called once, then fell silent. The world felt suspended, wrapped in silver and frost and something too fragile to name.

And then Beatrice asked, barely above a whisper. "Do you really mean it?"

He didn’t pretend not to understand. He didn’t hesitate, either.

"I meant all of it," Francois said. "Every word."

Beatrice looked down at their joined hands, her thumb brushing his knuckle.

"Then I guess I should start figuring out how to be someone worth standing next to."

"You already are."

She didn’t answer. She just rested her head lightly against his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting the temporary peace consume her.

And for tonight, that was more than enough.