"What are you doing, Bianca? Are you going to defend this fake who only wants to seduce the prince?" Sol says to me disdainfully.

I hear Mary's horrified gasp behind me. I don't need to turn around to know that she has shrunk from such a cruel and terrible accusation to her honor.

Although of course, in Sol's view and in the opinion of this body's original Bianca, commoners have no honor.

"She's neither fake nor trying to sweet-talk anyone. The only one I see here with designs on Vincent is you."

"Of course, because I'm the daughter of the Duke of Vassilea."

"Give me the ribbon and go away."

"You can't speak to Sol like that," Caroline intervenes. "Besides, you're choosing the wrong side, you should be with us."

I ignore her. That she wouldn't have left me by the wayside when I failed the theory exam.

"Sol..."

Because yes, I can talk to her like that. What does she want? For me to address her as "Your Illustriousness"? Right now I'm not before a duke's daughter but before a bully.

My hand is outstretched. The villain angrily clutches the ornament, wrinkling its delicate fabric and risking breaking the beads that decorate it.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that. Your position and your power are inferior to mine."

Seriously? I curve my lips into a smile. She has no idea. I could destroy her parents' entire castle if I set my mind to it. I just have to awaken the wolf. The idea almost seems appealing to me. I realize that's not right and stop entertaining it.

I also gave up the other idea, of unsheathing the dagger I carry under my uniform miniskirt and teaching her a lesson. (I don't bring my sword when going shopping, but I never take off the dagger. I feel safer with a weapon at hand).

"My position may be. For now," I qualify, letting a certain pleasure slide honeyed through my words. I want her to think I'm after a rise in social status. "My power far exceeds yours. What level did you say you were?"

"You only have earth magic."

"And none other than Catrina is training me with the sword in her select group."

"You're not going to participate in the games. I will, just as my sister participated for my house when she studied at the academy. My team will be the one selected."

"Really? I rather see there a team formed by the prince, his three friends, and Mary."

"And you?" she wonders. Then she opens her eyes wide. "Oh, that's why you're getting close to the weirdo of darkness."

I burst out laughing. Me getting close to Ronan? But if the boy hasn't left me alone since he read my chart…

With a quick movement I capture her wrist between my fingers.

"Give it to me."

I don't squeeze. I don't know if I'm stronger than her either. We stay for a few moments, which feel eternal to me, looking into each other's eyes, challenging each other. She is the gorgeous and ruthless villain. I was supposed to be her lapdog.

"Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

Theodore has just arrived. He was walking down the street and, seeing the crowd of people, approached. Mary is hunched behind me; I'm holding Sol's hand and trying to get her to let go of a ribbon she grips in her fist... Yes, it was definitely a worrying sight. Let's let the knight in shining armor finish fixing the situation.

"Sol took Mary's ribbon from her. She refuses to give it back," I inform him before the aforementioned can share her side of the story.

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"Sol Vassilea. I didn't expect that from you," he rebukes her, disappointment painted in the green of his irises.

"It's just a silly girl argument. Keep it."

She opens her hand and the ribbon begins to fall. Alert, I release her wrist to catch it, but Theodore is faster. He snatches it in mid-air, smooths out the wrinkles with his fingers, and hands it to Mary.

"Tha... thanks," she takes it, blushing at the gentlemanly gesture with which he just offered it to her.

"My pleasure."

And while the two of them look at each other, I raise an eyebrow and smile at Sol with irony.

"What? Making friends the prince's inner circle?"

In response, she snorts. Yes, the perfect villain snorts in public. She must be very angry.

"This isn't over, Bianca, you just ruined your social life," she whispers so low that Theodore, who is focused on Mary, doesn't hear it. "I'll make sure your family follows."

Threats, threats, threats. Please, she's not even the duke's eldest daughter. I'm not worried. No court intrigue can match the privileges given to whoever wins the tournament, and with my five elements, I don't intend to lose. Besides, as long as I have that contract signed with the crown, my family is untouchable. They're interested in having me work for them.

Sol and her two followers leave, the crowd disperses.

"I won't be able to exchange it now," Mary laments, referring to the damaged ribbon.

"Don't worry, let me buy you the one you want," Theodore offers.

Discreetly, I step aside. Let them continue on their romantic route. The pup pokes his head out of the pocket and I stroke him absentmindedly. I'm supposed to have an affinity for light, so why did I enjoy confronting Sol so much?

Marco.

Marco was riding through his family's lands, overseeing the crops. In the distance, on a hill, could be seen the stately manor where they lived.

It was a sunny morning. He directed his horse through the fields towards the path that led to the hill, to refresh himself at the well. Seeing that someone was already walking there, he slowed his mount and matched their pace. It was two women, one taller than the other. Even from behind, he recognized his little neighbor. He smiled and greeted them.

"Good day, Genevieve and Tilda. What brings you here?"

The two women turned and stepped aside. Marco brought his horse to a complete stop.

"Hello, Marco," answered the younger one, the daughter of the neighboring baron. "I've come to bring you the invitation to my birthday party."

Marco was about to ask her if it was fourteen because, frankly, he didn't remember. Tilda, the maid, saved him.

"You don't turn fifteen every day. The lords would like you to attend, along with your parents."

"I'm sure my mother will be delighted. But there was no need for you to come in person to deliver it, Genevieve."

"Oh, but I wanted to, so I could see you," she replies and suddenly turns red, as if the last part was something that had slipped out.

Marco looks at her from atop the horse. Fifteen years old, his little neighbor had indeed grown. They were five years apart and, as he had known her since she was a baby, she had been a playmate to take care of in his childhood.

"Mother is at home, give her the invitation," he tells them.

"Will you come? I know it's just two days after the ball at your fiancée's academy, which may be a bit rushed for you, but I'd love for you to do it."

"Ball?" he muttered more to himself than to his friend.

Because he had forgotten. He was so busy overseeing and improving the productivity of the barony that it had completely slipped his mind that his fiancée would be expecting him to invite her to go as his partner.

Bianca...

If he had broken off the engagement that day, now he wouldn't have to attend a ball for which he had no time. However, he wanted to go. The change in his fiancée had made him very curious.

"Yes, the ball," Genevieve was saying. "By the way, not that I want to be the bearer of bad news but..." she hesitates. "Have you heard the rumors?"

"What rumors?"

"They say that a boy, a prodigy student of dark magic, has proposed to her. That he knelt before her in front of everyone."

"And what did she do?"

"She pulled her hand away when he wanted to take it."

Marco felt strange. To begin with, he hadn't liked hearing that someone was courting his fiancée. Not that he was going to challenge him to a duel, but he felt like it. To continue, he was on edge until his friend clarified that Bianca rejected him, and then he felt relief and satisfaction. That was odd. Their future marriage was an arranged one. It made no sense to feel those emotions.

Then he remembered Bianca coming out of the dungeon, so self-assured and, despite the dirt, so radiant and beautiful. (Not that she hadn't been before, only that her lack of personality had made her features bland).

His heart raced at the memory. It seemed that the girl had impressed him more than he thought.

Maybe he had a problem. Or not. He saw nothing wrong with liking the little he had seen of that change in his fiancée.

"So, will you come to my party?" the young neighbor was saying as she looked at him hopefully.

"Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world," he reached out and ruffled her hair, as he used to do.

She frowned, as if she no longer liked such a familiar gesture.

Marco withdrew his hand.

"Well, I'll leave you. Thank you very much for the invitation and the visit."

He spurred the horse and rode away, slowly at first and then faster and faster. He didn't hear his friend's sigh, nor how the maid assured her that she didn't understand it either, that from the way Marco used to talk about his fiancée, she also believed that by now they would have broken up.