CHAPTER 212: THE CROWN PRINCESS UNLEASHED

[Lavinia’s POV — Imperial Gardens, Tea Ceremony Day]

The imperial gardens had never looked more deceitfully serene. Rows of roses glistened with dew, fountains danced under the sunlight, and gilded tables were lined with pastries so delicate they looked like tiny pieces of art rather than food.

But serenity? Ha.

"WHAT do you think you are doing?!" Sera’s shriek sliced through the air like a dagger.

I leaned casually against the marble balcony rail, Marshi lounging beside me like a furry god of judgment. Below us, maids scurried like terrified ducklings while Sera stormed between them, skirts flaring, a clipboard in one hand and a vengeance hotter than dragon fire in the other.

"That vase—" she jabbed her fan like it was a spear at a poor trembling maid, "—belongs on that table, not here! Are you trying to give me a stroke before I’ve even reached thirty?! FIX IT!"

The maid yelped and scrambled to obey. Another girl tried to sneak past with a tray of candied violets, only for Sera to whirl, eyes blazing. "STOP! Those are crooked. CROOKED! Do you think the Crown Princess should eat diagonal pastries?!"

I took a bite of candied fruit, watching her meltdown like it was prime theater. "It’s just a tea party," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Does she really need to behave like it’s my wedding?"

Beside me, Marshi flicked his tail once, slow and judgmental, before nodding in perfect agreement.

"Exactly," I sighed. "At this rate, she’ll probably demand a marching band to announce the sugar spoons."

As if on cue, Sera turned on a young footman arranging napkins. "ARE THOSE FOLDED INTO TRIANGLES?! Who told you to fold them into TRIANGLES?! This is not a battlefield; this is a TEA PARTY! Make them swans, you buffoon!"

The boy nearly fainted on the spot.

I smirked, leaning down to whisper to Marshi. "Tell me, Marshi... should I rescue them or let her finish her holy crusade against tableware?"

Marshi yawned so wide his fangs gleamed, then trotted off with his tail flicking like he couldn’t care less.

"Excuse me?" I narrowed my eyes, glaring at his retreating stripes. His entire body radiated sunshine and suspicious joy. Suspiciously too much joy. "Wait. Wait. Wait! That face—Marshi, don’t you dare smile like that! Are you—are you going to see your wife again, you... you traitor?"

He froze mid-step. His ears twitched.

I gasped dramatically, pointing a finger at him. "Aha! Caught golden-pawed! Don’t think you can fool me, mister. I know that lovesick glow anywhere. First, you abandon me for your honeymoon, and now—what? Daily visits? What am I to you now? A backup human?!"

Marshi turned his head away, very deliberately studying the nearest rose vase like it was the most fascinating thing in the empire.

"Pathetic," I muttered, crossing my arms.

But then... his whiskers twitched, and he risked glancing back at me with those big shimmering eyes that screamed, ’Please let me go, please let me see her, please let me have one ounce of happiness, cruel master.’

My lips trembled. I sighed like a queen granting mercy. "...Fine. Fine. You can go, Marshi. Go see your beloved mate and frolic in your little paradise of true love. Don’t worry about me—your poor, abandoned, lonely master who raised you, fed you, bathed you, kept you warm—"

I didn’t even get to finish before he lit up like a firework, leaping with so much joy I swore the ground shook. He galloped away, stripes flashing, leaving me in a cloud of betrayal and tiger fur.

. . .

. . .

"And thus, once again... I am forsaken in the name of romance."

Sigh...

"I Guess I should start getting ready too..."

I rubbed my temples, groaning like the world’s most tragic heroine, then slowly—very slowly—let a smirk creep across my face. Oh, it wasn’t just any smirk. It was the kind of smirk that belongs to evil queens in fairy tales right before they curse the prince’s entire bloodline.

Because, ladies and gentlemen... drumroll please... Today is the day.

The day when I, Lavinia, The crown princess of the empire, meet the young noblewomen and noblemen of the empire. The cream of the crop. The so-called "future pillars of society." The ones who walk like they own the earth just because their ancestors paid taxes on time.

And guess what? Since I am the main character of this tea party—all eyes on me, darlings—I am going to have the time of my life.

"Ohhh, I can already imagine it," I muttered, steepling my fingers like some cartoon villain. "Those perfectly groomed faces twitching when I smile too wide. Their stiff backs snapping when I ask the wrong questions. Their little prideful hearts scream when I accidentally call them by the wrong name."

The thought made me chuckle. Then giggle. Then—before I knew it—I was laughing like a full-blown evil maniac.

"Hehehehe... HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

I took a deep breath, letting my evil laughter fade into a satisfied hum. My reflection in the window caught my eye—red eyes glinting, golden hair glowing in the late light. Perfect. Evil. Beautiful.

I clapped my hands together, all business now. "Alright then. Time to dress up like the sexy angel they think I am—while I unleash the devil underneath. Hehehe..."

***

[Lavinia’s Chamber—Later]

Sera vibrated like a kettle on the verge of exploding as she yanked the comb through my hair with the ferocity of a warrior sharpening her blade.

"Saints, Sera—you’re going to burn my scalp," I muttered, wincing as she nearly ripped a strand clean out.

"Shhh! Sit still, Your Highness!" she snapped. "If one curl is out of place, those vultures will laugh! And over my dead body will that happen!"

I raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you’re preparing me for a battlefield."

She didn’t blink. "Because it is a battlefield."

With one final dramatic tug, she flung the comb aside and clapped her hands like she’d just created a masterpiece. "IT’S DONE!!"

I sighed and rose to my feet. One glance at the mirror—and my lips curved upward.

"Oh my..."

The blue silken skirts shimmered like midnight, flecked with golden starlight that rippled when I moved. The slit of the gown revealed boots that said, I could step on necks—and make it fashion. The crown perched on my head as though the gods themselves had placed it there.

I looked like...

"A glorious, untouchable bitch," I whispered gleefully.

Sera gasped, hands pressed to her mouth. "Your Highness... you look... you look—"

"Like what?" I tilted my head, a smirk curling. "A real tyrant princess?"

Her head bobbed furiously. "Yes! Exactly! A tyrant princess descended from the heavens to put these nobles in their place!"

I laughed softly, adjusting the cape so it swirled around me like a storm. "Good. Isn’t that the message we wanted to send, Sera?"

Her grin matched mine. "Indeed, Your Highness. Today the nobles won’t know whether to bow, faint, or run for their lives."

"Perfect," I murmured, admiring my reflection one last time. "Let them tremble. Let them whisper. After all..." My voice dropped into a dangerous purr. "...the show is about to begin."

KNOCK. KNOCK.

"Lavi... are you ready?" Osric’s deep voice drifted in through the door.

Sera, preening like a proud mother hen, pressed her hands to her lips. "Lord Osric will probably faint."

I coughed to hide my grin. "Yes, you can come in, Osric."

The door creaked open. And there he was—broad-shouldered, steady as always... until his eyes fell on me.

He froze. Completely.

His lips parted slightly. Words failed him. For a long heartbeat, Osric looked like he had been struck by lightning. His gaze swept over the crown, the cape, and the slit of the gown, then locked back on my face.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

"Lavi..." His voice cracked. "...you’re unreal."

Sera grinned ear to ear. She clapped. "Ahhh, yes. Mission accomplished."

Before I could stop her, she skipped toward the door. "I’ll leave you two to... admire each other. Have a wonderful moment!" With a wicked giggle, she shut the door.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with unspoken things.

Osric didn’t move. He just stood there, staring at me as though his soul had been stolen. His hand twitched, and I could almost hear the grinding of his teeth.

Slowly, he stepped forward, boots echoing softly against the floor, each sound tightening the coil in my chest.

"Osric," I said. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"A ghost?" His voice was low, rough, and trembling with suppressed fire. "No, Lavi. Not a ghost... a goddess."

My lips parted, but nothing came out. Heat flared in my cheeks as his eyes burned into mine.

"You’re..." He swallowed hard. "...you’re dangerous, Lavi."

I tilted my head, smirking. "Dangerous? That’s rich, coming from you."

Before I could speak further, he was in front of me, breath fanning my lips. His hands hovered, afraid to touch... then finally landed on my waist, strong and trembling.

"Do you know what you’re doing to me?" he whispered. "Every day, every night, I’ve imagined you. But this... seeing you like this... Saints above, I can’t—"

I chuckled softly, raising a finger to his lips. "Control yourself, Osric."

His brow furrowed. Almost desperately: "Can I kiss you?"

"NO!" I shot back, pushing him a step away.

"Why?"

"You’ll ruin my makeup. And Sera will murder you with a brush—and trust me, she’ll make it slow."

He groaned, raking a hand through his hair. "She’s killing me. She’s actually killing me..."

I chuckled, patting his chest with mock sympathy. "I know you can endure it."

Turning toward the mirror, I adjusted my crown, the smile tugging at my lips refusing to fade. "Let’s go, Osric. The nobles must’ve arrived..." I glanced at him through the reflection, eyes glinting with mischief. "...and I’d hate to keep my audience waiting."