The dining hall looked like something out of a painting—high ceilings, gold chandeliers, and a table so long it could host a small war council. I took my seat with the kind of quiet grace that said, yes, I belong here, and I know it.
"Good morning, Mum. Dad," I said, giving them both a polite nod.
Mum smiled, setting down her cup. "Good morning, dear. You're looking better today. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"
"I'm fine," I replied smoothly, lifting my teacup. "Better than expected, actually."
Dad's eyes studied me over the rim of his glass. He set it down, folded his hands, and cleared his throat in that serious, fatherly way that usually meant trouble.
"Seraphina," he began, voice steady but cautious, "I need to tell you something. It may not be pleasant news."
Ah. That tone. The one people used before saying something like "you're disinherited" or "the cat exploded."
[Cat's don't explode, host. Well, unless you do it yourself.]
I know, Nero… wait, I can make cats explode?
[Of course you can, host. But that would be too cruel.]
Cough, cough. Dad cleared his throat, dragging my attention from explosive cats back to the potential crisis brewing at the table.
He hesitated, then added, deadpan, "Before I continue, please refrain from throwing another teacup at me."
I froze mid-sip. Right—the memories. I'd thrown one at him before. Twice, actually. Apparently old Seraphina didn't believe in verbal arguments when fine china would do.
"I make no promises," I said sweetly, setting my cup down with a smile.
Dad sighed—not in irritation, but with the weary acceptance of a man who had long since given up expecting peace and quiet.
"Very well," he said. "The second prince has demanded you apologize for… the incident."
"Incident?" I echoed. "You mean when I slapped him?"
Mum's fork stopped halfway to her mouth.
Dad's jaw twitched. "Yes. That particular incident."
"And I refused," I said, nodding to myself.
He exhaled through his nose. "You did. And now he's making a public fuss about it."
Mum set her fork down, concern softening her voice. "Why did you slap him, dear?"
I tilted my head slightly, keeping my tone calm. "He touched my skirt."
The silence that followed could have frozen the sun.
Dad's chair scraped back as he stood, fury flashing across his face. "He what?"
Mum gasped, eyes wide. "That insolent brat!"
Before I could stop her, she threw her teacup—straight at Dad. It missed him by an inch and shattered on the floor.
"Why did you tell her this at breakfast?!" she snapped.
He looked utterly baffled. "Why am I being blamed for relaying the news?!"
"You know better than to ruin a meal with politics!"
I couldn't help it—I laughed. Loud, honest, completely unladylike laughter.
"You two are unbelievable," I said, shaking my head.
They both froze for a moment, then turned toward me. Dad sighed again, rubbing his temples. "You don't have to apologize, Seraphina."
"That's a relief," I said, sipping my tea.
"But," he continued, his voice dropping lower, "this could result in the engagement being called off."
Right on cue, Nero's voice hummed faintly in my mind.
[Congratulations, host. That's your first quest: end the engagement.]
Of course it is, I thought.
Out loud, I said evenly, "I didn't want the engagement anyway. The prince has been a pest since day one. If this ends it, all the better."
Dad's hand clenched. "That boy has been tormenting my daughter under the royal family's nose?"
Mum stood up too, eyes blazing. "You'll speak to the king about this, won't you?"
"I'll do more than speak," Dad said darkly. "I'll remind him who he's dealing with."
Aurernhart wasn't just a kingdom—it was a power divided among four Grand Dukes, each ruling a vast province that balanced the crown's authority. My father, Duke Alaric Valemont of the North, commanded the strongest military in the realm. His word alone could turn a border skirmish into a war—or end one before it began.
No wonder the royal family usually tread lightly around him.
Apparently, the second prince had missed that memo.
Mum came around the table, her expression softening as she rested a hand on my shoulder. "Don't you worry about that spoiled prince, darling. We'll handle him."
I smiled faintly, warmth flickering in my chest. "Thank you, Mum."
Nero's voice chimed again, sounding far too smug. [For a family of nobles, they're surprisingly entertaining.]
That's what makes breakfast interesting.
Now let's see what happens when I start breaking engagements before dessert.
[Love the villainess line, host.]