Woes Of A Villainess

17. Made for a King

Cecil's brows raised slightly in intrigue, "Is that right? I will have to make a point of meeting your sister someday, then. I'm sure she is as pleasant as you, Lady Olivia." His eyes seemed to glint at an opportunity that had arisen. "In fact, getting a hold of your brother during this turbulent time is understandably inconvenient with exams around the corner. It's been a long time since I have stepped foot within the Lockhart earldom, so please pass the message on that I shall visit after his graduation." Too stunned to respond, Olivia gawked as Cecil finally turned his attention to Yvette who had taken to staring holes into the side of his head. He held out his arm and smiled. "Now, please excuse us. I did intend to come here in search of Lady Yvette. We shall take our leave."

Olivia watched awe-struck as Yvette silently took his arm and they both walked away. How would she explain this to Layton? He would never believe her. Speed walking back to her dorm room, an excited smile spread across her face. She would have to write to Arabella about it as soon as she could.

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"...Which servant did you make write that letter, I wonder."

Yvette spoke straightforwardly, a sarcastic lilt to her voice as she walked beside Cecil.

He said nothing, giving her the answer she expected, but that serene smile of his was glued to his face like a mask. Finally, he glanced down at her and spoke calmly, "I've been meaning to forge a proper introduction with Layton Lockhart. He has been near unapproachable since his father fell ill, but it seems as though the family is in better spirits. I'd like to get closer to the new Earl."

A humourless laugh left Yvette's lips and she narrowed her pink eyes at him, "What did you need from me? I'd prefer not to be around you longer than need be."

Cecil stopped walking. Cautious, Yvette came to her own abrupt stop and turned to face him. His expression remained calm, though the words that left his mouth caused Yvette to freeze, "...The Queen is bedridden. No one knows yet, but I suspect she is terminally ill."

As she processed the news, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. In deep thought she spoke hesitantly, "...Are you telling the truth?" Cecil gave a curt nod. She pressed her fingers over her mouth as she raced back through her memories for the last time she had seen Queen Frances in person. It was true, she had looked worse for wear, but she would have never expected a terminal illness.

"The news reached me this morning from one of her ladies in waiting," He extended a 'gracious' smile her way. "I thought it would be best for my future fiance to hear it in person. You'll be taking her position soon enough, after all."

A flash of fury burned in her eyes as she turned her nose up at him, "You have the gall to call me your future fiance when you refuse to make a proposal-" She quickly stopped herself as she noticed a group of people begin to pass by and quickly fixed a sweet smile on her face, looking up lovingly at Cecil. She held out her hand towards the prince who raised his brows in amusement but took the signal to press a chaste kiss to her knuckles. She glanced back to the passing group through long pink lashes and felt appeased at the envious looks sent their way. She continued, though her hushed tone was not as sweet as her smile. "...You may have my father in the palm of your hand with all those promises of yours. But I am not to be trifled with, your highness."

"Must we go through this again, my dear Yvette?" Cecil's collected mask didn't falter even at her threat. That calm smile of his was slowly starting to grow uncanny. "My mother doesn't show signs of recovery. You will have your proposal and wedding when I am King."

"Empty words," Yvette scoffed at him, ignoring the chill that ran down her spine as she snatched her hand back. "She hasn't even named you her official heir, and you want me to waste my youth waiting for you?" A wide smirk made itself onto her face and she narrowed her eyes at him in challenge. "If I wanted, I could have the King of Nyotari begging for my hand-"

She froze at the subtle shift in Cecil's expression. His serene smile remained unchanging, but his eyes broke the illusion. Cecil's purple eyes glinted coldly in warning and bore straight through Yvette, unblinkingly. She hesitated to speak, nervously taking a strand of long pink hair between her fingers to calm herself. To onlookers, this was a warm exchange but up close, those icy eyes of his gave away his true disdain as he leaned forward, leaving their faces only inches apart. "...I dislike haughty women." Yvette stared back, not wanting to relent. To her frustration, another group began to pass and she painted a smile on her face through gritted teeth. Cecil's eyes seemed to light up in amusement at her commitment. He reached out a cold hand to graze her cheek, a motion that left her biting her tongue while the onlookers swooned. "Play your part. Sit pretty. Wait for my mother to die. It's that simple." He lowered his voice to a mocking whisper. "You can do that much, can't you?"

Yvette didn't care much for Cecil's true nature, for it would be worth it in the end when she had a ring on her left hand and a crown on her head. She glanced down, instinctively to her woefully empty ring finger with some disdain but forced a smile on her face when she looked back into Cecil's purple eyes. It wasn't like she was in love with him, after all. Marrying for love was something made for those willing to lose their place in society. She was no fool.

Bowing into the perfect curtsy, Yvette made herself the picture of elegance. With her warmest smile she ended the conversation, "...Until next time, Prince Cecil."

Walking away, she flipped her long pink hair behind her. Fighting back the rage burning inside her was difficult, but with all these eyes on her, she would persist. Long deep breaths, head high, shoulders back, calm and composed. Walking with her head held high, she was the picture of gentle queenly grace. She could already hear the murmurs as she passed.

"She looks like something out of a painting..."

"She will be a force to be reckoned with when she debuts...."

"It's only a matter of time before she becomes a princess..."

Her chest puffed hearing the admiration of her future subjects. How they looked up to her, how they wished to be her. It was all so gratifying.

From her family name to her clothing, her figure, and her hair. From the elegance that radiated from her to the carefully crafted words of flattery that charmed those around her. All of it was bred for her ascendance as the most glorious woman in the Kingdom.

She would become Queen; There was no one who could possibly doubt that Yvette Salvatore was a woman made for a King.