The Destiny of the Villainess is Tears

Star

Months pass so quickly that before I know it, it's been a year. I'm - well, Ophelia is - 17, halfway to 18 now. I don't really have much interest in calculating the exact number of months I've been conscious in this world, so a year is fine.

Officially, Viktor and I are courting. I feel so fancy whenever I say it. Mostly it means an excuse to invite him to the manor, or to see him without injuring myself. During social functions I always invite him, even if he won't be able to make it. When he does, we steal away somewhere quiet.

He's a very proper, demure man.

Who is surprisingly insatiable when it comes to kisses.

He's addicted to them, or so it would seem, because he never gets tired of them. We spend our quiet moments stealing them. Whenever he can, he finds little moments to catch me alone and press a brief, feather soft one against my lips, always stealing away as if he is afraid of someone finding him out.

It's adorable.

Sometimes, he makes the mistake of trying to steal them while in public, and then becomes so adorably flustered when he realizes he's been so brazen in public.

A cloth fan smacks lightly into my shoulder to snap me out of my happy daydream. My mother is standing by my side, frowning at me, before she shakes her head. "Ophelia. Don't slouch. If you want to show you are a lady, you must hold yourself upright."

I wince internally, and take a deep breath. I lift my shoulders and settle my features into a cool, emotionless mask. My posture is rigid, almost military.

Mother leans down to whisper. "You can be relaxed, but not that relaxed. I've been around long enough to know what it looks like when a young lady has been distracted by her sweetheart. Your father will not be so amused as I am." She pats my cheek gently, smiling, before taking my arm and resuming our leisurely walk around the perimeter of the dance floor.

Anne and I have been invited to attend the masquerade ball hosted by Lady Esme Foster, youngest daughter of Baron Gideon Foster. Both families are strong political rivals of the Weidemans, though Anne has not met Lord Gideon nor his eldest daughter yet. Anne is quite friendly with Lady Esme.

Mother and Anne had chosen to wear beautiful, sleek, sleeveless dresses in pale pink and blue, respectively, and adorned themselves with delicate, matching accessories. Their hair is piled in loose, curling updos with artfully placed braids. I think they look stunning. I am much more restrained, my dress a pale, powdery blue, with silver embroidery and detailing. I carry a fan to complete the look, and wear my hair in a tight bun at the nape of my neck.

Anne is dancing with a young man that she seems to have her eye on, while Mother and I sip drinks and watch her. I let out a sigh as I finish my drink, setting the glass aside, and wishing I could get another. It's warm in here. The room is full of swirling colors and masks and glittering jewels.

Father and a group of his peers are sitting at the poker table in the corner of the room. His white-tipped hair is drawn back, a black and silver mask hanging over his eyes. His lips are pulled into a tight smirk as he studies his hand, and there are stacks of coins, both gold and silver, in front of him. I recognize some of the other faces at the table. I suppose these are the most powerful men in the Empire, many of them rulers or otherwise high ranking nobles. They seem to be having fun, although Father's opponent is probably suffering for it.

Bored, I return my attention to the dancers, scanning the crowd and taking note of who else is in attendance. There's the prime minister. The captain of the imperial guard. The Grand Duchess, and the Empress herself. Her husband is missing, so it's likely he's out hunting again.