At that, the room lit up again with motion and chatter. Brushes were readied, fabrics unfolded, and shoes compared. The excitement returned, swirling like warm wind through every corner.
As the morning light slowly crept through the windows, laughter echoed through the halls.
They truly spent the entire day preparing her.
[I hadn't lied to Edrick, though. Although I was granted all the fineries a princess should possess—clothes, silks, jewels, every luxury a princess could desire, they never gave me what was rightfully mine as the heir to the throne: a tutor.
I was not taught the elegance of movement, the art of diplomacy, the lessons in poise and restraint, the training every princess undergoes.
Knowledge, guidance, the understanding of empire and the world beyond the palace walls—these were denied to me. A princess without knowledge and wisdom is a bird without wings: beautiful, yet powerless.
Perhaps that so-called mother of mine feared that if I were taught, if I were properly trained, if I were truly armed with intellect and strategy, I might rise above her precious second daughter and claim the throne that should have been mine. ]
By evening—
Cassy and the others had finally completed Evelyn's look. She wore an elegant white dress laced with black accents, the fabric shimmering with scattered black crystals. Her accessories matched perfectly—white earrings set with black sapphires and a delicate necklace that mirrored their design. Her hair was left down, cascading in soft waves, adorned with fine hair ornaments that sparkled under the light. On her feet were crystal-like shoes—white with sleek black patterns curling at the edges.
Lily: "You look absolutely gorgeous, Your Highness."
Melinda: "No one will be able to take their eyes off you."
Evelyn offered a small, quiet smile.
Evelyn: "Thanks."
She stood from her seat and smoothed the hem of her gown.
Evelyn: "Well then… I should go."
She exited the room gracefully, escorted by Gerald.
———
At the Palace Banquet—
The grand hall buzzed with life. Gilded chandeliers cast warm golden light over nobles in silk and velvet. Wine flowed like rivers. Polished words clashed like blades in the air. Some mingled politely, some whispered with hidden agendas, and others laughed a little too loudly.
Then the sound of the Royal Herald's voice rang out across the hall.
Royal Herald: "Her Highness, the First Star of Cristiane, Princess Evelyn de P. La Cristiane, now enters."
All eyes turned toward the grand entrance.
Evelyn stepped through the towering doors.
The hall quieted, and then—
A low hum of whispers began to stir.
"Is that the first princess?"
"I heard she never attends any banquets—what's she doing here?"
"It's not that she doesn't attend... No one ever invites her."
"They say she's cruel and temperamental. Treats her maids terribly."
"Didn't she suffer an accident a few months ago? I heard she's been... strange since hitting her head."
Evelyn paid no attention to the whispers.
With quiet grace, she entered the banquet hall, her steps calm, unhurried. She found herself a quiet corner away from the bustle, picked up a glass of chilled fruit juice, and sipped it, unbothered by the stares or murmurs swirling around her.
Because honestly, she didn't care.
Evelyn couldn't even be bothered. Let them talk. Let them stare. Their opinions were as fleeting as the music in the background—there one moment, forgotten the next. She simply sipped her drink, calm and untouchable, as if none of it had anything to do with her at all.
Gerald stood behind her like a stone pillar. Silently guarding her.
Then came a second announcement, the herald's voice echoing with stately authority across the marble pillars of the hall.
Royal Herald: "Announcing the arrival of His Grace, Grand Duke Rochester, Rochester and the Young Master, Edrick Rochester."
All eyes turned as the towering doors opened once again.
The Grand Duke entered first—stern, regal, his presence commanding respect with every step. Beside him walked Edrick, dressed in noble finery, his posture straight, his gaze calm. Though still young, there was a quiet strength in him that didn't go unnoticed.
As the pair entered the hall, curious glances shifted—not toward them, but between Edrick and Evelyn. Whispers rose subtly like wind through dry leaves.
But Evelyn? She didn't even glance their way.
She lifting her glass once more and sipping her juice with serene detachment, as though the entire room didn't exist.
After a while, another announcement rang out—louder, more formal, echoing through the high ceilings of the grand hall.
Royal Herald: "Presenting Her Majesty, The Empress, Florina de W. La Cristiane and His Majesty, the Emperor Consort, Curtis del Soir Cristiane along with Her Highness, the Second Star of the Empire, Princess Rosalia de E. Van Cristiane."
The music softened. All eyes turned.
Three figures entered the hall, clad in the finest of royal attire.
The Empress and the Emperor Consort walked side by side—heads held high, exuding dignity and command. Behind them, the young second princess, Rosalia, followed with tentative steps. It was her first official appearance at a banquet.
She was a vision of youthful elegance. Red hair like silk caught the golden light of the chandeliers, and her wide green eyes, framed with nervous wonder, peeked out from beneath curled lashes. She wore a beautiful blue dress, soft as a petal, fit for a princess.
Everyone in the hall bowed in unison.
Everyone… except Evelyn, who remained standing in her quiet corner, calmly sipping her juice, eyes locked on the little girl behind the empress.
The royals ascended to their seats at the head of the hall. The Empress picked up a glass of champagne, raised it with poise, and addressed the room.
Empress Florina: "Thank you all for coming to my daughter's birthday banquet. There's no need for formality—please, enjoy the evening."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The nobles relaxed, conversations resumed, and laughter returned to the air.
But Evelyn remained still, her gaze unmoving.
Her eyes were fixed on Rosalia, not with hostility—but with something deeper. Her stare was intense, almost unreadable, as though peeling back the surface to examine what lay beneath.
Evelyn (thoughts): This little sister of mine… is quite an interesting character.
Rosalia felt an intense gaze fixed on her for quite some time. She looked around and caught sight of a six or seven-year-old girl staring at her with deep ocean-blue eyes.
Curious and a bit unsettled, Rosalia leaned toward her father and asked softly,
Rosalia: "Daddy, who is that girl?"
The Empress overheard the question and smiled sweetly.
Empress Florina: "Who are you talking about, Rosa?"
Rosalia: "Her."
She pointed toward Evelyn's direction.
The Empress's eyes landed on Evelyn, and her smile instantly froze. A flicker of unconcealed disgust flashed through her gaze.
Empress Florina: "She is no one. Today is your birthday, Rosa. Just enjoy it. Don't pay attention to some irrelevant person."
Rosalia nodded obediently, offering a sweet smile.
Rosalia: "Okay, Mommy."
The Empress turned her sharp gaze to Curtis, her voice dripping with contempt.
Empress Florina: "Who invited her here?"
Curtis: "She is also royalty, Your Majesty."
Empress Florina: "Don't allow such unnecessary things to happen again."
Curtis: "I'll keep it in mind, Your Majesty."