Chapter 337: An Unwelcome Dismissal
Chapter 336: An Unwelcome Dismissal
Lyria’s POV
I had to admit, even I was taken aback by the announcement.
Citizens allowed to attend the competition in person? To be physically present within the palace grounds rather than watching through the scrying veils? I had not thought for a moment that the royal family would permit such a thing. The Selection had always been broadcast to the kingdom through the scrying veils, yes, but the citizens had never been allowed to step foot inside the palace to witness it themselves.
The King raised his hand once more, and silence descended upon the hall. The murmurs that had rippled through the crowd faded into nothing, every eye turning towards the dais.
"Let us not forget," he said, his voice carrying across the ballroom, "that this Selection does not involve only the candidates. It involves the entire kingdom."
He paused, allowing his words to settle over the assembled guests.
"Every citizen has a stake in the future of this Empire. And so every citizen shall have the opportunity to participate."
He gestured broadly, his gaze sweeping across the crowd.
"Not only shall they vote, but there will be further competitions that they shall be able to witness for themselves. The people of this kingdom deserve to see for themselves who may one day stand beside their Moon."
A murmur rippled through the assembly.
I could feel the mood within the ballroom shifting. Most of the nobles appeared less than pleased by the announcement, though they confined their displeasure to quiet murmurs among themselves. None dared voice their objections openly before the King.
Then the King gestured towards those responsible for the scrying veils.
"And now that the announcement has been made," he continued, "the popularity poll for the previous week shall now be broadcast for all to see."
The scrying veil flickered to life.
Names appeared upon its surface, arranged in order of popularity. The glowing letters cast a soft light across the ballroom as everyone turned to look.
At first place was Lucian.
I was not surprised.
Not in the least.
He had performed remarkably well during the previous competition. His composure had been flawless, his playing elegant and precise. The citizens who had watched through the scrying veils had clearly recognised both his skill and his dedication.
At second place was Duke Thorncrest.
His expression shifted to one of genuine surprise, his eyes widening ever so slightly. For the briefest moment, his carefully maintained mask slipped, revealing a flicker of something unreadable.
Then he quickly composed himself, his usual easy smile returning as though nothing had happened.
I smiled to myself.
He had not expected to rank so highly.
But the citizens had watched him play Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star with one finger, missing several notes along the way, and somehow they had found it charming rather than dreadful. His performance had been entertaining in its absurdity, and the people had rewarded him for it.
At third place was Earl Hawthorne.
My smile widened.
It was rather surprising, truly.
His performance during the competition had certainly been... memorable.
The way he had lifted his bow and struck the strings of his violin as though it were a drum...
Among the top three, the only gentleman who had completed the assigned task with any real degree of accuracy had been Lucian.
Duke Thorncrest had butchered a children’s melody.
Earl Hawthorne had transformed a string instrument into a percussion instrument.
And yet...
They had somehow captured the hearts of the people.
The memory of that competition nearly made me laugh aloud.
I pressed my lips together, forcing myself to remain composed as I continued reading the list.
At fourth place was Marquess Hale.
I nearly rolled my eyes.
Of course he ranked fourth.
He had played the violin perfectly. His technique had been flawless, his execution precise.
But there had been nothing memorable about it.
Nothing that lingered in one’s thoughts afterwards.
And yet, his title, appearance, and charm had evidently won him considerable favour among the citizens.
At fifth place was Baron Redwick.
A small pang of sympathy stirred within me.
His performance upon the harpsichord had been beautiful.
Technically proficient.
Emotionally resonant.
It had been a welcome contrast to the chaos that had unfolded before him.
Then my gaze drifted lower.
Duke Valenridge.
Once again, he occupied the second-to-last position.
I did not understand it.
Especially when he had done almost the very same thing as Duke Thorncrest and Earl Hawthorne.
The final name upon the list belonged to Baron Frederick Ashcombe.
Though, having already been eliminated from the Selection, that ranking hardly mattered now.
Still...
Duke Valenridge’s position troubled me.
I glanced towards him, hoping perhaps his expression might offer some explanation.
Instead, I found him rubbing the side of his head with two fingers.
His pale green eyes were half-lidded with weariness.
He looked exhausted.
At least... to me, he did.
There was a heaviness about him that I had not noticed before, a weight that seemed to rest upon his shoulders.
More curious still...
He did not appear the least bit troubled by his ranking.
Most gentlemen would have shown disappointment, or frustration or even embarrassment but he showed none.
Then my gaze shifted.
And I saw the Queen.
Her eyes remained fixed upon Duke Valenridge.
There was something within that look that made my stomach tighten.
She looked...pleased.
It was subtle.
Barely noticeable unless one knew what to look for.
The faint upward curve of her lips.
The quiet gleam of satisfaction in her eyes.
The leisurely tapping of her fingers against the arm of her chair.
She was enjoying this.
For a brief moment, I found myself wondering why.
Then the answer settled quietly within my thoughts.
Perhaps...perhaps I understood after all.
She was the reason Duke Valenridge had ranked so poorly.
And I did not doubt, not even for a moment, that she had also played a hand in ensuring Marquess Hale’s favourable position.
The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.
If that were truly the case, then the popularity poll was hardly a fair measure of the people’s opinions at all.
The King’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
"The suitor candidates may now return to their positions," he announced.
The gentlemen bowed before dispersing from the dais, returning to their places amongst the gathered guests.
Soft conversations gradually resumed throughout the ballroom.
The Queen rose gracefully from her seat and
ommediately, the conversations died away once more.
Her gaze settled on me and she smiled.
She smiled.
It was warm enough to deceive anyone who did not know her.
I knew better.
"Since my second daughter," she said, her voice carrying a note of carefully practised concern, "is still recovering from her illness, I believe it best that she excuse herself from the remaining parts of the ball."