villainess chapter 29

Had he perhaps been planning all along to free her from that gilded cage? As the Countess, she’d had no way to escape Arthur without his knowledge. Flora was cleverer than Vivian, and held the elevated position of Crown Princess. Surely she would have thought of a solution. Tears shimmering in her eyes, Vivian dared to hope. Flora, why are you crying? Mother and I were the ones at fault. It’s alright, sister. My death wasn’t your fault. It was Mother’s karma and Arthur’s sin. The Crown Prince quietly lifted the unconscious Flora onto his back and carried her away. The image of her innocent sister’s grief seared itself into Vivian’s memory, and her heart slowly ached with sorrow.

In the empty room Flora had left behind, the light shifted, drifting to another corner, and Vivian followed it with her gaze. There, partially obscured by shadows, stood a tall man. Vivian’s eyes widened in confusion. Another man, hidden in the first’s shadow, spoke in a voice thick with anguish. “Your Imperial Highness.”

“Vivian. Vivian…” He whispered her name, a tear tracing a path down his cheek. Despair clung to him like a shroud, the look of a man who had lost his beloved. His dark eyes, usually cool and sharp, were now dull with pain. He had always carried an air of aloofness, but his face had been vibrant, full of life. Now, it was gaunt and haggard, as if that vitality had been a lie. Why does he look like that? Vivian was lost in bewilderment. 

Arthur and Flora’s reactions, she could understand. But Evan…what connection did he have to her that would warrant such grief? She racked her brain, but the answer remained elusive.

Vivian’s eyes met Evan’s. His grief-stricken gaze locked onto her. “Vivian…” Suddenly, the scene dissolved into a blinding white light. A voice, gentle and warm, echoed in her mind. My sweet child. This time, please… A strange longing resonated from the voice.

“Who…?” Before she could finish the question, consciousness rushed back. “…ian. Vivian.” A warm voice called to her from somewhere nearby.

***

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she winced at the sudden influx of light. As her vision cleared, she saw her sixteen-year-old sister. “Sister?”

“It’s supper time. Can you get up?”

“Yes.” Vivian felt calmer, both physically and emotionally. When she’d first woken, her mind had been in turmoil. For a fleeting moment, the acrid scent of death had clung to her again. But seeing Flora, the feeling vanished, replaced by the fresh scent of life. It was all a dream. A horribly vivid, terrible nightmare. Now, I can change things, one by one. I will protect myself, my sister, and my mother. I will. She repeated the words to herself like a mantra. The voice she’d heard at the end of the dream was already fading from her memory.

Hand in hand with Flora, she carefully descended the stairs. “Vivian,” someone murmured her name as they emerged from their room and headed towards the dining room. A shadow flickered at the end of the mansion’s long, dark corridor, then disappeared.

***

A few days later, the Grand Duke’s twins were invited to Beaufort House for tea, a gesture reciprocating the recent tea party. In the grand drawing-room, the siblings sat facing the Beaufort sisters, with Max standing beside them. Caroline, her voice laced with concern and affection, addressed the twins. “We heard there was a small accident on your way home from our estate. Are you both alright?”

“I’m fine, but Vivian was bedridden for a day. Are you feeling better now, Vivian?” Flora replied, her voice loud enough for Max, and even Evan, to hear. Max glanced briefly at Vivian, who offered a strained smile, her eyes downcast. “Yes. I wasn’t actually hurt.”

“That’s not true, my lady. The mental repercussions of such an event can linger.” It was Evan, not Max, her own brother, who seemed most concerned for her well-being. His normally impassive eyes softened as he looked at Vivian. She thought she saw a flicker of the heartbreaking sorrow from her dream in their depths. But a dream was just a dream. It probably meant nothing. He was someone she’d met recently; perhaps her subconscious had simply latched onto him.