Earning the Love of a Princess-Chapter 268: Violet: Birds of Prey

To her credit, Ilse refused to mention even once that her costume was a gift from Prince Leo. She deflected endless questions from the other ladies-in-waiting about where she’d been able to source such fabulous ornaments. She even made a point of complimenting the others’ costumes even though hers was far and away the most beautiful.

Violet saw the questions and suspicions in the other ladies’ eyes. Those eyes narrowed further with disbelief when they compared Ilse’s golden loveliness with her own sober gown.

The contrast between the Thierre sisters had never been greater and Violet knew many would be talking about it.

The guest of honour himself approached Ilse almost right away, kissing her hand and praising her beauty. Prince Leo was dressed as a red fox, an animal that Violet thought perfectly suited his cunning, backhanded nature.

Having said that, wasn’t she also supposed to be dressed as a fox, with her pathetic circlet of pointy ears? She laughed without humour at the thought of imitating the same animal as the prince she disliked so much.

Instead of the typical sit down dinner of several courses, the food was brought out on platters decorated with ivy, throughout the evening. It was more like an impromptu countryside celebration. It also allowed for uninterrupted dancing well into the night.

Well, not for Violet it didn’t. Instead, she sat with a cold frown on her face as Ilse was whirled around the dance floor without respite. By Leo of course, but also by several other eligible young men.

At one point, Ilse even danced with one of the smallest princes. Johan’s young son was dressed as a bear cub, with his little nose painted black. Even though she towered over the boy, Ilse laughingly let him spin her around. When the tune finished, the two were enthusiastically applauded by the royal couple as they bowed. The queen laughed as if she found their performance delightful.

Violet couldn’t endure much more. She wracked her mind for an excuse to use to leave the banquet early. She was about to stand up and plead illness to the queen, when a dark shadow suddenly streaked across the tabletop.

Looking up with surprise, she saw the king’s brother looming over her.

"Good evening, Lady Violet." he said in his low, gruff voice.

She hastily jumped to her feet and bowed. "Good evening to you, my lord."

Prince Johan indicated she should take her seat again and then eased his tall frame into the seat next to her, goblet in hand.

Violet peeped at him through her lashes. He must’ve been close to forty years of age, though he looked far younger. He was dressed as a wolf, in an extravagant pelt of silvery fur and a mask over the upper part of his face.

"Are you having a pleasant time?" he asked.

"Oh yes."

Johan chuckled. "Lady Violet, I’m not offended by you lying to me. It’s how courtiers survive, after all. What does offend me is when you fail to make your lies sound convincing."

Violet felt her face turning red. "Alright then, my lord. I’ll be honest with you instead. I’m not enjoying myself. I’m bored and I’m tired of everyone ignoring me but tripping over themselves to get close to my sister."

"I appreciate your candour." Johan smirked. "It makes for a refreshing change from most of the wenches here."

Johan said nothing more, seemingly content with sipping his wine. As the silence stretched on and on, Violet felt a need to somehow fill it.

"You were wrong, Your Grace." she blurted out when she couldn’t stand the quiet between them any longer.

"Wrong about what?" Johan tilted his head back to stare down at her. "I tend to find I’m right about most things. So now I’m very interested to hear where you think I’ve erred."

The Devon line certainly doesn’t want for arrogance, Violet sulked. She had to choose her actual words carefully, though.

"You were wrong when you said that my sister and I weren’t in competition for the same prize, that we could both succeed and be equally happy. Because it turns out we are both fighting for the same goal and there can only be one winner." She tipped her head. "Or were you simply lying back then to try and make me feel better?"

Johan stared at Violet in confusion. "What goal are you...?" He then followed her gaze across the hall, where it landed on Ilse smiling dreamily and dancing in Leo’s arms again. The king’s brother then looked back at Violet and started roaring with laughter.

She stared back in shock. Why was he laughing at her?

"You foolish...fucking...oh, you stupid girl!" Johan gulped out between laughs. "That’s what the two of you are fighting over? My ridiculous nephew?"

Violet shook her head, baffled but also feeling her anger starting to prickle. "I hardly think the heir to the throne can be called ridiculous, my lord." she said stiffly.

"I say he can." Johan retorted rudely. "Have you ever bothered to get to know Leo?"

"Well yes, somewhat." Violet said. "I know he’s a good jouster and his parents’ favourite-"

"Ah, just as I suspected. Like every other wench here, you’re so dazzled by the crown that’ll eventually rest on his head, that you haven’t bothered getting to know the man." Johan’s smile turned mocking. "Because if you truly did know the man, you’d quickly realise he’s not a prize worth fighting over at all."

Violet gaped at him, almost trembling from shock. What mad rantings were these? Was Prince Johan drunk again?

"And also," he added. "Leo is his mother’s favourite but certainly not his father’s. If my brother could make the choice, he’d probably have his second boy inherit the throne."

"Prince James?" Violet mumbled weakly. "But why?"

"He has a cooler head for logic and a more even temperament. On the dull side but better suited to be a king. Whereas Leo is..." Johan’s lips twisted into a sneer, "...a spoiled, overly pampered mama’s boy. He doesn’t fight fair. He’s also too cold and uncouth to make anyone happy. I pity his future wife, actually. She’ll spend her days chasing after him and trying to keep him in line."

Violet felt conflicted. Much of what Johan was saying was aligned with her own opinion of Leo. Still, she’d never dream of actually saying such things out loud. Didn’t Johan fear any repercussions?

Apparently not.

"But Your Grace." Violet felt a need to justify her actions. "It could be said that you’re just as cold and ruthless as your nephew, couldn’t it?"

Johan flashed her a dangerous smile. "I’m far colder." he said, not sounding the least bit insulted. "But I’m not the one that a bunch of stupid young girls are clawing and tussling over, am I?"

"I suppose not." Violet was silent for a long moment, then asked, "Do you think you’ll ever remarry, Your Grace?"

"No. Not at all. What for?" Johan stared down at her, his blue-green eyes cold and certain. "Marriage doesn’t bring a man many benefits. It brings a woman even less. So think long and hard before you waste your time chasing the unworthy."

"So what are you suggesting?" Violet’s voice hardened. "That I should just let my sister win, without any fight?" She gestured in the direction of the dancing couples.

The king’s brother snorted loudly, then languidly reached across the table for a tart decorated with sliced apple. "If I were you, I’d worry less about ideas of winning and worry more about why I consider being paired with Leo, to be a win at all."

"Because his wife will be a queen!"

"And you equate being queen with being happy?"

"Well..." Violet looked at Queen Celia. Hers was a fairly easy, and certainly luxurious, life. Was it happy though?

"I just...I just can’t bear my sister ending up with more than me, Your Grace." Violet hung her head as she put words to her greed and envy. "Lord forgive me, but I can’t. It’s happened all our lives and I’m sick of it."

Johan swallowed the tart in one large bite, then stood up and brushed the crumbs from his fingertips. "If you can’t be convinced that your sister claiming Leo is not the same thing as your sister having more that you, then I’m afraid you’re lost. Best of luck with the turmoil that’ll soon fill your life, Lady Violet."

And with those words, the man strode away.

Less than an hour later, Violet was alone in the Thierre sisters’ bedchamber, alone. She’d managed to get permission to leave the banquet hall early by pleading illness. As she lay in the bed, she decided to be fast asleep by the time Ilse eventually returned. Even if she had to fake being asleep.

The last thing she wanted to hear about was the wonderful night Ilse had enjoyed as the belle of the ball.