Married To Darkness
Chapter 287: Not Everyone Can Attend

Chapter 287: Not Everyone Can Attend

She didn’t need their help; she could make herself look stunning without them.

After ensuring everything was perfect, Diana stepped back and surveyed her reflection one last time.

The gown was flawless, her hair immaculate, and her makeup sharp enough to cut glass.

Satisfied, she turned and walked to the door, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

Lord Jonathan was waiting just outside, dressed in a crisp suit that made him look every bit the part of a noble escort.

His eyes lit up as she appeared, and he offered her a charming smile.

"Lady Diana," he greeted her, bowing slightly. "You look as radiant as ever."

"Spare me the flattery," Diana replied coolly, though a faint smirk played at her lips. "Shall we go? I don’t want to be late."

"Of course," Lord Jonathan said, stepping aside to allow her to pass before falling into step beside her.

As they made their way toward the grand hall where the king’s birthday celebration would take place, Diana’s expression remained composed, her head held high. But deep down, she made a mental note to reprimand her maids later for their carelessness. The smell might not have been their fault, but someone had to pay for her irritation.

Lord Jonathan glanced at her, his voice low and curious. "You seem particularly commanding today, even for you."

Diana arched an eyebrow. "Commanding is my default state, Lord Jonathan. I suggest you get used to it."

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "As you wish, my lady."

With that, they continued toward the celebration, Diana determined to make her entrance as unforgettable as ever.

~~{─────────

Wyfkeep Castle

~~~~~~~~~~~~~}~~~

However,

The two princesses, Christina and Jollene, were confined to their chambers under strict house arrest.

The lively buzz of preparation outside their chambers—the rustle of fine silks, the chatter of maids, and the clinking of jewelry—only served as a cruel reminder of their disgrace.

The sounds that once symbolized their own royal privilege now felt like a mocking serenade.

Christina paced her room like a caged lioness, her fury radiating with each stomp of her slippered feet. Her usually pristine hair was a tangled mess, a stark contrast to her typically composed demeanor. Her maids stood helplessly by the walls, afraid to intervene as she hurled objects around the room in a tempest of frustration.

"I can’t believe this!" Christina seethed, her voice rising with every word. "Why is it that he—an ordinary third prince—has this much power? The crown prince and even the king won’t stand against him! This is humiliating!"

One of the maids timidly stepped forward, holding out a comb. "Princess Christina, perhaps if you calm down—"

"Don’t tell me to calm down!" Christina snapped, swiping the comb out of the maid’s hand and sending it clattering to the floor. "Do you think I care about looking pretty when I’m not even allowed to attend the king’s birthday?" She turned to the mirror, glaring at her reflection as if it were mocking her.

She reached for one of her elaborate gowns, pulling it from her wardrobe and holding it up to herself.

The rich fabric shimmered in the morning light, but the sight only deepened her scowl.

"What’s the point of having all these clothes if I can’t wear them?" she spat, throwing the gown onto her bed in frustration. "I’m a princess, not some peasant to be hidden away!"

In contrast, Jollene sat calmly by the window in her chamber, her expression enigmatic.

She watched the bustling courtyard below, where servants carried trays of food and decorations toward the grand hall.

Unlike Christina’s explosive tantrum, Jollene’s silence was unnerving.

"Your Highness," one of her maids ventured cautiously, "shall I bring you tea?"

Jollene’s lips curved into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "No, thank you." Her voice was soft but carried an edge that silenced further questions.

While Christina vented her anger openly, Jollene’s mind was racing with plans.

She leaned against the window frame, her fingers absently toying with the hem of her dress.

Unlike Christina, she wasn’t lamenting their punishment—she was plotting her next move.

"Let her waste her energy throwing tantrums," Jollene thought to herself, glancing at the adjoining wall that separated their chambers. "Anger without strategy is useless."

She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as the faint scent of jasmine wafted through the air. Her calm exterior belied the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind.

Meanwhile, Christina stormed into Jollene’s room, her face flushed with fury. "Are you just going to sit there and do nothing?" she demanded. "We’re being humiliated, Jollene! How can you just sit there like a statue?"

Jollene opened her eyes and regarded her sister with an almost pitying expression. "And what would you have me do, Christina? Scream and throw things like a spoiled child? That won’t change our situation."

Christina’s eyes widened in disbelief. "So you’re just going to accept this? Be content with being locked away while the rest of the family celebrates?"

Jollene stood gracefully, smoothing her dress as she approached Christina. "No, sister. I’m not accepting anything. But unlike you, I’m not wasting my energy on meaningless theatrics. If you want to win, you need to think ahead."

Christina blinked, momentarily taken aback by Jollene’s measured tone. "Think ahead? What are you talking about?"

Jollene’s smile returned, this time sharper. "Let them think we’re beaten for now. But every setback is an opportunity if you know how to use it. Trust me, Christina, our time will come."

Christina hesitated, her anger flickering as a glimmer of hope took its place.

She didn’t fully understand Jollene’s plan—if there even was one—but her sister’s confidence was infectious.

"Fine," Christina muttered, crossing her arms. "But if this plan of yours doesn’t work, I’m not letting this go."

Jollene tilted her head, her smile widening. "It will work. Just wait."

As Christina left the room, still grumbling under her breath, Jollene returned to the window.

Her gaze drifted to the courtyard once more, her mind already calculating her next move.

"Let them celebrate today," she thought, her fingers tightening around the windowsill. "Tomorrow, they’ll remember who we are."