Chapter 364: The Cost of Speaking

Chapter 363: The Cost of Speaking

Lyria’s POV

I stared at Jacinta for a long moment.

Her words hung in the air between us, sharp and deliberate, designed to cut. She was trying to make me feel small, to remind me of my place, to push me back into the shadows where she believed I belonged.

But I did not look away.

I held her gaze.

Then I nodded slowly.

"If the c-commoners are leaving," I said, my voice carrying across the now-silent arena, "then e-everyone should leave t-too."

A murmur rippled through the crowd.

I continued.

"The c-competition is o-over, is it n-not? There is l-little else to g-gain by remaining."

Jacinta’s smile tightened.

"You are in no position to demand anything," she said, each word clipped and precise, the way she always spoke when she wished to remind everyone present exactly who held the higher station.

I tilted my head.

"I d-demand nothing. I am m-making a s-suggestion. Since those w-who paid rightfully are n-now being m-made to leave, then e-everyone should j-just leave."

I paused.

"Besides, w-what we came for is o-over. Is it n-not?"

Jacinta’s smile did not waver.

"That is not how things work," she said. "There are rules. There have always been rules."

I met her gaze.

"Rules are m-meant to be b-broken," I said. "Surely y-you have h-heard people s-say that b-before."

Jacinta scoffed at that.

"If that is what you wish, then fine. Everyone shall vacate the premises. Apparently, my dear sister does not wish to see anyone any longer."

I knew what she was doing.

She was trying to provoke me, to make me appear selfish and unreasonable. She wanted the nobles and commoners alike to see me as the one who had driven them away, the ungrateful upstart who could not even be bothered to share an afternoon’s entertainment with those who had come so far to witness it.

But I did not rise to the bait.

I smiled.

"It is t-true that I d-do not fully u-understand etiquette," I said. "But I u-understand speech v-very well. I know h-how to speak c-clearly."

I paused.

"So I shall s-speak directly. If those w-who paid are m-meant to leave, then t-those who d-did not pay should l-leave as w-well. That s-should be the r-rule."

I let the words settle.

"And l-let it be k-known that I n-never said everyone should l-leave because I d-do not wish t-to see them a-anymore. The o-only one who s-said that is her highness."

Gasps went up, rippling outward from the front rows like a stone dropped into still water.

A noble lady somewhere pressed a gloved hand to her mouth, and I heard the faint, scandalised murmur of "she never," passed from ear to ear along the balustrade.

I could see the look of fear on the commoners’ faces. They had not expected me to speak so boldly, to challenge Jacinta so openly, not here, not before half the kingdom. They were afraid for me, I realised. Afraid of what would happen to me now, afraid that my boldness on their behalf would be paid for later.

I turned to the footman.

"Like y-you said," I said, "everyone is g-given five minutes t-to vacate. Is that n-not right?"

The footman looked to be in shock.

His mouth opened, but no words came out, his eyes darting between myself and Jacinta as though uncertain which of us he was permitted to obey.

Jacinta’s smile remained fixed in place, though I could see the annoyance flickering behind her eyes. She was not used to being challenged. She was not used to anyone speaking to her in such a manner, least of all in full view of the nobility she held so dear.

I knew, with absolute certainty, that this would not be forgotten.

Jacinta smiled.

"Please," she said, her voice carrying that same false sweetness, sweet as spoiled honey, "everyone should evacuate the premises. For fairness’s sake, it would seem."

I smiled.

The commoners began to move first.

They filed out of the arena, their steps quick and eager, as though they feared that if they lingered too long, the opportunity to leave might be revoked, the offer rescinded on some noble whim. Some of them glanced back at me as they went, their expressions a mixture of gratitude and worry, a few even pausing to incline their heads towards me, a gesture of respect I had done precious little, by their own reckoning, to earn.

Then the nobles began to leave.

They did not hurry. They moved with deliberate slowness, their postures stiff and their expressions cold, skirts rustling and canes tapping against stone in a rhythm of quiet disapproval. As they passed me, many of them threw glares in my direction, the sort of look reserved for those who had forgotten their station and been so vulgar as to say so aloud.

I did not look away.

I met their gazes, one by one, and I did not flinch.

The suitors followed, though their departure was reluctant. Duke Thorncrest paused as he passed me, a small smile on his face. He did not say anything, but he nodded once, a gesture so slight that only I, watching closely, could have caught it, and I understood.

Then Jacinta closed the distance between us.

Her smile had disappeared entirely.

"You really think you are a real princess now, do you not?" she whispered, her voice low and venomous. "You think you have the right to give authority? You think you can make demands?"

I said nothing.

She leaned closer.

"I wonder what her majesty will think of this little performance you have put on for the entire kingdom to see."

She straightened, smoothed the front of her gown with two fingers, and offered the faintest, coldest curtsy.

Then she walked away.

I was left alone.

The arena was empty now, the stands silent, the noise and laughter of the afternoon nothing more than a memory, the banners still hanging limp and forgotten against the stone.

I did not falter.

I stood there, my hands clasped before me, my expression calm, though beneath my sleeves my fingers had gone quite cold.

I knew there would be punishment coming.

I knew that better than anyone.

And normally, I would have been quiet. Normally, I would have kept my head down and my mouth shut, my eyes lowered. I had spent my entire life learning how to be invisible.

But how long could I keep quiet?

How long could I watch injustice and say nothing, while good people were made to bow and scrape for the privilege of a single afternoon’s joy?

I did not want to be a princess.

I did not want any of this.

But I was in this position now, and I hated the way the royal family made the commoners feel irrelevant, as though their presence were tolerated rather than welcomed.

So I had spoken.

And now I would face the consequences.

I walked back to my chambers in silence, the corridors longer and colder than I remembered them, my slippers whispering against the stone.

My guards were quiet, their expressions unreadable. My maids helped me change, their hands gentle and efficient, but I could see the looks they exchanged. They had something to say, but they were waiting for me to speak first.

I was not interested in speaking at all.

Later that night, when everyone was asleep, a summons came.

The Queen called for me.