Celine curtsied, lowering her head submissively, "Your standing is high enough for you to own whatever you see fit, Your Highness. I was just educating that lowborn on his position. He didn't know his place."
The Crown Prince bent over, picking up the handkerchief from under Celine's heel. She let go, allowing him. "So if this is mine now," he said, lifting the handkerchief, "You won't complain if I give it to him?"
"Your Highness, you are too generous." Celine smiled, her voice sickeningly sweet. "If you wish to teach me a lesson, I would be happy to learn, but if you wish to humiliate me, you have already succeeded. There is no need to repeat your triumph."
The Crown Prince was quiet, studying her, before he suddenly tossed the handkerchief back to the masked man, who barely managed to catch it. "Leave us."
The man didn't need to be told twice and scattered away.
The moment the man was gone, the Crown Prince motioned for Celine to follow, and walked ahead.
Celine clenched her jaw. She hesitated for a second, but ultimately, followed. He was too fast, and she couldn't match his stride, "Your Highness, could you please slow down," she requested, breathing hard.
A few guests who had been lingering outside glanced at them, and quickly looked away when she shot a warning glare in their direction.
She could already imagine tomorrow rumors, 'Desperate for the Crown Prince's attention, Lady Celine Rochefort chases after him like a beggar after food.'
It was only when they arrived before the study room, did the Crown Prince stop and order the servants to clear the area. It was a private room filled with shelves or books, far enough from the guests, and away from prying eyes.
"You haven't changed," the Crown Prince commented, "Still as arrogant and haughty as ever. I thought after the engagement annulment, you would at least try to be less unbearable, and learn not to pick a fight with everyone you come across."
"Don't forget it's with everyone but you, Your Highness," Celine chuckled, letting her gaze sweep over the lavish room, "You have a great heart to forgive my missteps, and even spared my life, despite what I have done. Truly, you are the noblest of all men."
The Crown Prince barely spared her a glance as he looked out the window. "And you shouldn't forget that I can still have you beheaded for your words," he said coldly, "So drop the fake flattery. I have no use for empty words."
"My words have always been chosen carefully, Your Highness. They do not carry the slightest intent of disrespecting you."
They both kept their silence, and only when the tension eased did the Crown Prince turn and look at her, his gray eyes expressionless, "What do you want?"
Celine tilted her head, feigning confusion, "Pardon me?"
"I won't ask a second time," the Crown Prince said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone, "Speak. Or else..."
"Would you honor me with a dance?" Celine asked, her voice sweet but edged with sarcasm. "Of course, only if it suits Your Highness."
His eyebrows furrowed in displeasure, "You really have a nerve, don't you?"
"It was just a thought, Your Highness," Celine paced around him, "There's no way Your Highness would have touched a sullied woman, would you?" she tapped her chin thoughtfully, "The sapphire mine would have been lovely, and if I could request, may I have one? It sounds like a small price for not intervening with your affairs. As a token of gratitude for the Rochefort house, naturally."
A hand shot out, grabbing her neck. "Are you threatening me, Lady Rochefort?" the Crown Prince growled, his face turning dark as he lifted her up, "I didn't know there was such a snake under the guise of a foolish and haughty, noble lady. Does your greed know no limits? Is everything, and everyone, a stepping stone for you to climb higher, and higher?"
Celine rasped, struggling, her nails digging into the Crown Prince's hand, trying to pull him off, "What did I gain from that incident? Nothing. What did you gain? Everything. I deserve compensation, wouldn't you agree? Or does Your Highness believe I should have given my honor to protect yours for free, and that would be fair?"
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The Crown Prince's grip tightened, choking her, "Stay away from her. Or I will destroy you, and everything you hold dear," he whispered, his tone threatening, "If I find out that you've approached her in any way, shape or form, your fate will be worse than death." He released her, and watched her stumble and fall, coughing and gasping for breath. "The mine's deed, I'll send it over to Rochefort's estate but know this," he added, leaning down, whispering into her ear, "I'll have my eye on you, and one wrong move, and your life will be over."
Celine coughed violently, clutching her neck. Her chest heaved, the pressure of the corset making it hard to breathe, the pain spreading through her rib cage, "Not even a little spite?" she asked playfully, forcing herself to meet his cold gaze, "I'm still a human, and a grudge is bound to build if not allowed to be released. After all, it's not me who had an affair outside of our engagement. "
It didn't matter if the Crown Prince killed the servant she spent the most time with, then spread a lie that he caught them together â all to protect that Dollface. It would be his words against hers, and a man's words always carried more weight, no matter the truth.
"What a great actress," The Crown Prince removed his mask, the cold facade cracking, a sneer pulling his lips, "You had me fooled for years, didn't you? If it wasn't for that incident, would I have been able to see past your charade?"
"I was just fulfilling my duty as your fiance, Your Highness," Celine said, "I've always done everything to keep your reputation, and the Crown Prince's prestige, safe. Even when I was framed, I didn't dare to speak, and let others slander me. Wasn't I a loyal partner, Your Highness?"
He became silent again, and only after a long while, did he finally respond, "All I remember is an annoying, self-entitled noble lady, who did more harm than good."
Celine bowed her head, smiling bitterly. "Then I apologize for wasting your time, Your Highness," she replied, "Please allow me to retire. I fear that the evening's excitement has tired me out."
The anger in his eyes faded, replaced with a diplomatic expression, "It's late. I will have you escorted, and make sure that you reach your estate safely. It would be a pity, if the King's guest got harmed during the banquet, wouldn't it?"
He commanded a few of his guards, and instructed them to keep her "safe" and to ensure that no harm befell her. It was a polite way of making sure she didn't step out of line. "Have a safe trip, Lady Rochefort."
"Thank you for your kind concern, Your Highness." Celine's fingers twitched, holding back from grabbing a book and smashing it into his face, break his nose, and give him two black eyes. The image made her smile at him.
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Only when the Crown Prince left, did Celine's shoulders sag, the weight on her chest feeling heavier than before. She was still on the ground, and none of the guards made a move, and no one offered a helping hand.
She gave them a once over, and scoffed, wondering which one was the snitch who always had an ear out, the one who always reported her actions to the Crown Prince, the spy who was a thorn in her side - a shadow guard, hidden in plain sight.
Their job was to blend in, to appear normal, to not attract attention, and it was precisely because of this, that finding them was impossible.
The only way to get rid of them, was to make sure that their ears and eyes were always occupied with false reports, unreliable information, and misdirections, so much so that they'd have no time, or energy, to dig deeper and look further.
Now that she graduated from the academy, she would need to purge the Rocheforts' estate from the rats, and then plant her own eyes and ears.
"You there," Celine pointed at one of the guards. The stiff crinoline trapped her legs, and the heavy layers of fabric weighed her down, making it clear it would take forever to stand on her own, "Help me up."
The guard looked taken aback. He glanced at the other guard, afraid, hesitant. "Lady Rochefort," he bowed, his voice wavering, "It's not a proper thing for me to do. I'm not in the position toâ"
"Do you know what your job is?"
"Of course," the guard straightened his posture, his voice firmer, "To assure your safety, and escort you home. To make sure no harm comes to you."
"And do you think by leaving me here, on the floor, you are accomplishing your task?"
He swallowed thickly, "I-I didn't mean any disrespect, Lady Rochefort. Please forgive me." He looked around, searching for support, but none of his fellow soldiers came to his aid. Instead, they all avoided eye contact, pretending as if they didn't hear anything.
"Just hand me over your sword, and step away," Celine extended her arm, reaching out, her voice laced with impatience.
The guard quickly handed over his weapon, but before stepping back, he warned, "Please be careful with that, lady Rochefort."
Celine grabbed the sword, and used it as a cane, to stand up, and balance herself. She held it for a moment, her grip steady, before returning it. With a glance at her reflection in the window, she took a moment to adjust her hair.
Her hand stopped, when she noticed the bruise around her neck, already beginning to form, the anger from before returning, boiling inside of her.
She moved toward the exit, her fingers touching the books' spines as she walked, dropping them off the shelf, one by one, "No, too thin, no, too light, no, no, no, no..."
Drop, drop, drop. The books fell one after another, until a thick book reached her hands.
"Here you are," she took it out and flung it around, testing the weight, "Perfect."