Deviating from the original plot

Chapter ninety

He turned toward the railing again, preparing to leap down.

"Wait!" Genevieve yelled, "I just told you that's dangerous!"

He glanced back at her, amusement flickering in his gaze. "You don't need to worry about my lady."

And before she could say another word, he vaulted effortlessly back over the balcony rail, vanishing into the night. Genevieve stood frozen, her heart pounding.

"How can someone be so infuriating?" She muttered under her breath, still trembling with disbelief.

✦ ✦

"And from that day onwards," the Queen continued, voice soft but bitter, "he made it his life's mission to pester me. He would appear wherever I went, teasing, provoking, insisting I would someday be his. I despised him for it—and he never cared."

Cassius shifted uneasily in his seat, shame prickling under his skin as her words hit a little too close to home. He thought of Lady Evelyn, and his chest tightened. Am I really like him? he wondered grimly.

The Queen's voice wavered slightly as she went on. "He kept asking for my hand, over and over, and I kept refusing. Then came the day of Amelia's wedding... the day everything changed."

✦ ✦

"How could you do this?" Genevieve's voice cracked as she stood in the garden, tears glistening on her cheeks. "After everything we promised each other?"

Amelia turned away, her expression cold but trembling underneath. "I had to. My family approved the match."

"But what about us? Our plans—our dreams?" Genevieve demanded, her voice rising with anguish.

Amelia crossed her arms tightly. "Those were childish fantasies, Genny. Running away, thinking the world would let us live in peace—it was foolish."

"But we would've had each other!" Genevieve cried.

Amelia's voice hardened. "Be realistic. This world is not kind to people like us. I made my choice."

"So you're happy like this?" Genevieve's voice trembled with disbelief.

Amelia hesitated, then said quietly, "Richard is a Duke. He treats me well. And... I think he cares for me, and I could grow to care for him."

"You didn't answer me," Genevieve said.

"What's going on here?" A man's voice cut through the air. The Duke had stepped into the garden, his brows furrowed.

"Oh—it's nothing," Amelia said quickly, forcing a smile. "Let's go back inside."

"Are you sure?" he asked, glancing between them.

"Why are you running away?" Genevieve demanded, taking a step forward. "What do you gain from pretending to be happy?"

"I am happy!" Amelia snapped, though her voice shook.

"Are you two alright?" Richard asked again, confusion deepening.

"No, she isn't," Genevieve said fiercely. "You're lying to yourself. You love me, Amelia. You always have."

Amelia froze, colour draining from her face. "Genevieve, stop..."

Richard looked between them, his confusion turning to horror. "What are you saying?"

"She's not being honest," Genevieve pressed on desperately. "You don't love him, you don't care about him, Amelia—you love me."

"Enough!" Amelia shouted, but it was too late.