Chapter 335: The Moment Before the Verdict
Chapter 334: The Moment Before the Verdict
Lyria’s POV
The King’s voice carried through the ballroom, commanding and absolute.
"Due to the health of my second daughter," he said, pausing just long enough for his gaze to flicker towards me, "who is still recovering, the results shall be announced without further delay, that she may return to her chambers and take the rest she requires."
I very nearly scoffed.
Recovering?
I had already recovered.
Kathryn had seen to that herself. The physician had attended to me with remarkable diligence, and under her care my body had healed far better than I had expected.
The principal issue now was not my health.
It was the scars.
The marks left upon my skin would remain as silent reminders of everything that had happened.
Even so, they no longer pained me as they once had. The sharp agony had faded, leaving behind nothing more than a dull ache that I had gradually learned to ignore.
Still, his Majesty did have a point.
The sooner this ball came to an end, the sooner I could return to my chambers.
I still had something left unfinished.
Something I had been working on before the ball had begun.
A small surprise.
One I had deliberately kept hidden from my maids and my guards alike.
Not because I distrusted them.
Quite the opposite.
It was for them.
If they discovered it before I had finished, it would rather defeat the purpose.
The thought brought the faintest smile to my lips.
The King lifted one hand.
At once, a footman hurried forward, carrying a tightly rolled parchment in both hands.
Upon reaching the dais, he bowed deeply before the King and the rest of the royal family.
Only then did he turn to face the assembled guests.
Slowly, the he unrolled the parchment.
His voice rang clearly throughout the hall.
"Duke Alistair Thorncrest of Highmoor!"
Duke Thorncrest stepped forward with his usual effortless confidence, inclining his head politely before taking his place before the dais.
"Duke Marcellus Frostmere of the Northern Reach!"
"Duke Lucian Aurelgrave of Eastmere!"
"Duke Evander Valenridge of Blackmere!"
"Marquess Rowan Blackvale of Duskwell!"
"Marquess Adrian Silverwyn of Crestfall!"
"Marquess Corvin Hale of Westreach!"
The Marquess wore an expression of complete confidence, as though the notion of elimination had never once crossed his mind.
I wondered whether he had ever considered that tonight might not unfold according to his expectations.
"Earl Benedict Hawthorne of Windmere!"
Earl Hawthorne stepped forward quietly.
Even amongst the grandeur of the ballroom, there was something remarkably steady about him.
Like an ancient oak that had weathered countless storms.
"Count Elias Thornleigh of Brightwater!"
"Baron Frederick Ashcombe of Ironridge!"
"Baron Julian Redwick of Stoneford!"
Baron Redwick adjusted his spectacles before taking his place, his movements calm and composed.
"Count Matthias Greystone of Northvale!"
"Baron Oliver Fairmont of Silverbrook!"
One after another, each gentleman answered the summons and stepped before the dais until all thirteen stood in a single line before the assembled court.
The gathered nobles watched in attentive silence.
Whispers had entirely ceased.
Even the musicians remained still.
When the final name had been called, the footman carefully rolled the parchment once more.
He bowed deeply.
Then he withdrew to his former place.
The King spoke again.
"The honour of announcing the candidate who shall depart this Selection," he declared, "shall be bestowed upon the Moon candidates."
For the briefest moment, I frowned.
Then understanding dawned.
He had not truly meant both Moon candidates.
He meant Jacinta.
This Selection revolved around her. She was the daughter everyone believed to be the Moon. Her opinion was the only one that truly mattered.
I remained where I was without protest.
Jacinta stepped gracefully to the front.
She wore a delighted smile, one so perfectly practised that it scarcely seemed capable of faltering.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, her voice carrying effortlessly through the ballroom, "I must confess that I have greatly enjoyed every moment I have spent in the company of these distinguished gentlemen."
A murmur of approval passed through the assembled guests.
"Each has shown me nothing but courtesy, kindness, and charm."
She paused, allowing her smile to soften.
"And perhaps, were the decision mine alone, none would be required to leave us this evening."
She turned towards me with a smile that appeared almost affectionate.
"I daresay my dear sister would agree."
A few curious eyes shifted towards me as Jacinta’s smile widened.
"She has grown rather fond of several of our gentlemen already."
Soft laughter rippled through the ballroom.
I merely looked at her, a polite smile rested upon my lips.
One carefully practised enough not to reveal my thoughts.
Fond?
Hardly.
There were certainly a few among the gentlemen whom I had begun to trust.
A few I had come to consider friends.
But that was all.
Perhaps Jacinta meant nothing by her words.
Or perhaps she meant far more than she had said aloud.
At present, I lacked both the desire and the energy to unravel her intentions.
Not after my conversation with Lucian.
Jacinta continued speaking.
"Alas," she said, her expression turning solemn, "every competition must abide by its rules. And tonight... one gentleman must bid us farewell."
The atmosphere shifted almost immediately.
The light-hearted laughter disappeared.
A quiet tension settled over the ballroom.
I could almost feel it.
Some of the gentlemen subtly adjusted their posture.
Others clasped their hands more tightly behind their backs.
Even among the spectators, anticipation hung heavily in the air.
My gaze wandered along the line of candidates.
Earl Hawthorne immediately caught my attention.
His expression was unusually tense.
His broad shoulders remained straight, yet his hands were clasped firmly behind his back.
Far more firmly than seemed necessary.
His brow had drawn together ever so slightly.
I paused.
Why did he appear so anxious?
He had ranked third in the previous competition. Surely his chances of elimination were exceedingly small.
Then another thought occurred to me.
Perhaps, he was not concerned for himself.
Perhaps he was concerned for one of his friends.
My gaze drifted further down the line.
Lucian revealed nothing.
His expression was perfectly composed.
His posture remained relaxed.
One would never have guessed he stood awaiting a decision that might alter the course of his future.
Duke Thorncrest, meanwhile, appeared almost entertained, a smile in place.
Baron Redwick frowned thoughtfully as he adjusted his spectacles.
He looked less nervous than contemplative. As though he were solving a puzzle rather than awaiting a verdict.
Then my eyes settled upon Duke Valenridge.
I paused.
Something about him seemed...
Different.
His pale green eyes appeared unusually heavy, their lids lowered ever so slightly.
There was a weariness about him that had escaped my notice before now.
Not merely fatigue from the evening.
No.
It looked deeper than that.
He seemed exhausted.
As though sleep had eluded him for many nights.
A quiet concern stirred within me.
I hoped he was not unwell.
Perhaps...
When the ball had concluded, I might seek him out.
Merely to inquire after his health.
Surely there could be no harm in asking whether everything was well.
Before I could think further upon it, Jacinta cleared her throat.
"The candidate eliminated from the Selection," she announced, her voice echoing throughout the grand ballroom is..."