The prince, who’d made his way through the gaggle of people to help his friend, cocked his head now, bewildered by her hurling such abusive language. Victor had only ever heard her speak in a ladylike manner, so his confusion was warranted. But Emma continued, unconcerned with his reaction.
“What were you thinking, Bernard? Wait, let me rephrase that question. Were you even thinking?!”
“E…Emma…”
Bernard’s panicked expression showed he wasn’t sure what was happening anymore. Seeing that foolish look on his face infuriated Emma even more, sending her rage through the roof. A distant rational part of her brain acknowledged it was too little, too late, to stop herself now.
“How vulgar and thoughtless must you be to think you can inform His Majesty, the King, of something like this so appallingly casually?! Have you any idea of the degree of your impudence?! On top of that, there was no reason whatsoever to conduct a personal affair like this so publicly. At a function in the royal palace, no less! Not only have you made a fool of yourself, you’ve made a fool of me, you reprehensible toad! And Annette! You! Are you truly satisfied with this nitwit?!”
Annette, open-mouthed at seeing Emma’s anger for the first time, shook her head vigorously in denial. “I won’t deny that I had a bit of a tendre for Lord Bernard…but…but you must understand that it was only the thrill of forbidden love for me… I never wanted things to escalate to this point!”
“Then you should have told him so because this idiot obviously thought otherwise! Annette, you cannot spend your life crying to get out of the messes you make by your own hand. It’s one thing for you two to use me alone as some kind of bizarre catalyst to spice up your tragic love story. But when you don’t set proper expectations and limits on a path you’ve put yourself on, you’ll end up involving others without their consent. Case in point. The buffoonery we’re being subject to right now!”
“You’re right… Oh, Emma, forgive me for being so hopeless!” Annette pleaded.
“Of course, you’re crying again! This is exactly what I’m talking about! Annette, cease your infernal blubbering at once! Get a hold of yourself! If you keep this up, you’ll forever be led around the nose by a brainless gorm like him! Is that what you want?!”
When Annette began weeping again, Emma pulled out her handkerchief in exasperation, using it to roughly scrub away the other girl’s tears. It was always, always like this. Annette excelled at getting others to spoil her. In Emma’s opinion, the words “devilish” and “coquette” existed to describe her. Their entire lives, Annette had always been an unreliable crybaby whom Emma and Bernard supported.
This was why, despite her fury at Bernard, Emma only felt a sense of resignation toward Annette. There was a saying, “Banging your head against a wall is a poor way to paint it red,” and her friend personified it. No matter what advice Emma gave her, she never listened. Thanks to Annette, in her nineteen years of life, Emma had well learned there was only so much she could do for people like her before she put herself at a disadvantage.
Having already given up on Annette, the vast majority of Emma’s ire focused on Bernard. She found his behavior a hundred times more unforgivable because he intentionally created this situation. She glared venomously at him as he stood there, flustered by the situation developing differently from how he’d imagined.
“In any case! I gladly accept the ending of our engagement!” Emma declared. “It brings me the greatest joy to know I no longer have to marry an insufferable louse like you! Oh, and one more thing! Do give my regards to your father when you inform him he’ll have to relinquish his title!”
An imperious sniff finished off Emma’s tirade, wrath having possessed her. She felt cleansed, refreshed…for a moment. But the crowd quieted abruptly upon her last word when up until just a second ago they had been astir with sympathy for her.
Oh, no. I’ve well and truly done it now.
The uneasy atmosphere jolted Emma back to her senses. She recalled with excruciating clarity the past few minutes. She had just lambasted someone. At a dinner party in the royal palace. In front of the royal family and nobility. A blunder so colossal on her part that she quite literally could not imagine anything worse than this.
“Pfft.”
Then the sound of someone snorting a laugh reverberated throughout the marble hall, followed by the clack-clack of footsteps breaking the silence as they drew closer. A few seconds later, he appeared. The young man Emma had been talking to earlier at the buffet table.
“Lester…”
When Victor tried to talk to him, the owner of the laughing voice raised a hand, silently asking their mutual friend to stand down. The young man’s refined, confident carriage and aura made him appear even more princely than the actual prince. Only a handful of people in the Monarchy of Reauxvil could behave in such a relaxed manner with the royal family.
So who exactly is he…?
“Isn’t that…Lord Glen?”
“You’re right, it is! I thought he returned to his own country, though? Ahhh… He truly is a sight for sore eyes…”
Those voices must’ve belonged to classmates from the Magic Academy, as their owners fawned over him. Emma had been on the mark about his name. He was Glen, not Lester. While that thought drifted in her head, the man in question took her right hand in his, the action coming easily and naturally to him.
Instantly, several young ladies shrieked, their shrill cries echoing in Emma’s ears. It reminded her of a similar commotion the day he transferred to the Academy. Emma, her mind perplexed by her blunder and this young man who insisted on calling himself Lester, watched things unfold dispassionately, like this was happening to some stranger.
She wished he had at least greeted her first or kneeled. Anything to give her a chance to avoid what was transpiring. Alas, she would not be granted a reprieve. He didn’t waste any time as he brought her hand to his lips, brushing them lightly against her skin.