Chapter 1.38: Public Appearances
The rest of the party was tense and silent. Cortina attempted to apologize, but Leila simply declined. The dark-haired woman had zero energy to deal with the drama and left as soon as she could. She couldn't stand the disrespect shown to Ezekiel. In the novel, racism was glossed over. But in reality, it was blatant and in your face. The mere existence of the man disgusted them just because he was a foreigner. Leila wondered if she was in her actual body. Would they treat her the same? Cleo looked completely different from her, and she wasn't a minority group. To the other women, she was one of their kind who just happened to be a sneaky whore.
It was unfair that this was how a fantasy world worked. A world of magic, royalty, and intense battles. She couldn't sit down, eating with a bunch of racist and racist apologists for mere connections. With barely contained anger, the heiress dragged Ezekiel away to their carriage. Her grip was tight, as she feared that her rage would get the best of her. And when that happened, she'd be putting her foot right against those bitches' necks. Thankfully, they made it far enough before she let out a scream. It wasn't a loud one, but she had to let it all out. Her chest felt tight as she stamped one of her feet. To any outsiders, the heiress looked like she was having a tantrum after a failed argument.
Ezekiel walked over and put his hands on her shoulder. They gripped her body tightly as he waited for her to calm down before speaking. "You shouldn't let those women get you. They haven't experienced life outside of their mansions. You have. You're better than them in every possible way."
"I…" Her mouth was dry, and she struggled to talk. The guard's words helped calm her a little. They hung heavy on her mind, forcing her to regain her composure and let out a sigh. "Thank you."
Slowly, the man removed his hands from her body and gave her a smile. A wide one that was genuine enough to heal her pain. They stared at one another for a while as his golden eyes practically glowed. To her relief, they didn't, as the sudden change in color would raise suspicion. The reassurance was comforting as she led him to their horse and carriage. As they inched closer, she was met with a suspicious glare from its driver. A man with graying hair who was hired recently and had no link to her family. She knew the older man had seen the exchange and wanted to voice his opinion. But with the aura she gave off, the man decided to keep his mouth shut to avoid any further tension.
The golden-haired man opened the door and helped her get in. As he did so, she could hear his feet sink into the mud that sat beneath them. Her stomach tightened as she knew his shoes would be ruined by this. But in the mindless obedience, she forced upon the ex-soldier, he just didn't care. If he had to take a bullet in her place, he would in an instant. And that was her fault. She couldn't undo the spell, even if she wanted to try. With a shaky exhale, she sat on the white cushioned seat and crossed her legs. The carriage was big enough for the two of them to sit back comfortably. Leila opened her curtain as the door closed and Ezekiel sat next to her with a blank expression.
The majority of the ride was uncomfortably tense. It was clear the pair had something on their mind but were unsure about sharing it. Leila was replaying the entire meeting over and over in her mind. It had been a massive failure, and she doubted any of the women would bat for her against the royal family. They were too self-absorbed and bigoted to bother. She was in desperate need of financial and public support. With an annoyed glare, she let her head fall and sighed. The only thing that she wanted to do was wallow in her own lack of success. Her hands fell at her sides, allowing her to feel something in one of her pockets. Without thinking, she reached in and was met with a paper. It was brown and had water stains, but she could still make out the writing.
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Slowly opened it fully and was met with a letter addressed to Cleo. There was no name given, and the writing was from a typewriter, so she couldn't identify whose handwriting it was. Confused, the dark-haired heiress tried to figure out where it came from. None of the servants came close enough to reach down and slip it in. Plus, she was sure someone would notice their strange behavior. Grimacing, she was hit with a sudden revaluation and struggled not to groan. There was only one person who got close enough to slip it in and, of course, it was a bigot. Quincy had to have been the culprit. Which means two things she would have to let settle before confronting. That the blue-haired woman was actually against the royals and was the only choice she had for an ally.
'This is the worst likely outcome.' The teenager thought to herself as she started reading. The writing detailed a displeasure in the future king's bride and to meet for further discussion. It was very bitter in a tone which she understood completely.
Because the women wrote about having felt awful for Cleo and wishing that the prince would choose her. That she found his new fiance unwitting from the role due to her lack of knowledge of high society. This led to her fearing her coronation would lead to utter chaos for the nation. So, she believed the heiress was the better fit for logically speaking, and throwing her out was sick. But she made snide jabs at Cleo's rumored promiscuity, saying she'll 'ignore it' since they have the same goal. To replace the royal family with better-fitting rulers. The whole thing made her clench her teeth in an attempt to not curse. While Quincy's attitude was rooted in extreme classism and ego, she had a point. The prince's fiancee had no idea how to run a nation.
If somehow the king passed, she would be given control of her own actions. She would have to sit with the prince to discuss laws, farming, education, etc. For anyone knowledgeable on any of those subjects could see the disaster waiting to happen. The heiress supposed that Quincy wanted to make sure that never happened to maintain what was left of her noble status. Possibly, her family's wealth was linked to a market the prince had already destroyed with his antics. Leading to a loss in her parent's income and a massive blow to her superiority complex. If the woman wasn't such a brat, Leila would be thanking God for this chance. Instead, she had no way of feeling joy from it.
Carefully, she made sure the letter was securely put away and looked over at Ezekiel. He was so quiet that she figured the man had fallen asleep. But he was actually just looking out the window with an intense stare. Leila hesitated with whether she should tell him or not. Since they were in a carriage with someone else, he wouldn’t be under her control. But even under her control, she didn’t know if telling him would be the right choice. There were still things she didn’t fully understand about her abilities, and she worried that if he ever broke, he might leak the information. It felt wrong to not trust the guard fully, but she had to be careful with treasonous information.
“Are you alright?” His voice dragged her out of her dilemma, and his piercing gaze added some weight to the problem. He looked worried and quickly turned fully so they were facing each other. “I’m not bothered by their comments, so you shouldn’t be either. They’re just speaking about what they’ve been taught.”
Leila frowned. The dark-haired heiress hated that the man was okay with the trash spewing his way. In this world, he was seen as lesser due to his social status, his country, and his past. All of it was superficial in her eyes, but to these people in high society, it was all that mattered. “What they’ve been taught isn’t right.”
“But you used to speak the same way.” That sentence sent chills down her spine, and she recoiled instinctively. The comment was harsher than a slap in the face. It hurt even though it wasn’t meant for her but for Cleo. Ezekiel had regret on his face instantly and he began to backtrack. “Cleo, I didn’t mean it like that.”
She looked away and directed her attention at the woods they were driving through. Her chest ached, and she felt herself falter with her face cracking. The heiress responded in a controlled, bitter tone. “Doesn’t matter.”