Chapter 9
Vidalia hurried down the corridors, head lowered, biting her left thumb as she narrowly avoided every piece of furniture along the way. It wasn't like her to be so careless, especially since she had been reincarnated. But she had other things on her mind at the moment.
She had thought she'd stay at the manor, but now that she had been appointed Angela's personal maid, she would have to follow her to the capital! Her slave, more like! It was her personal descent into hell.
The beginning of the original story! The journey to the capital—she had been looking forward to visiting a new place, but it was the story's intrigues that worried her the most. She was just a simple servant, after all. She had no presence…
Vidalia stopped in front of her door, gasping for breath. Angela's Smile, also called Flowers for Angela, that syrupy story of romance and stupidity—mostly Angela's. She had so many suitors chasing after her, yet only a few were main or secondary characters. But Angela, always surrounded by love and kindness, innocent and, above all, blind!
Rich, protective, kind, and handsome men tried to woo her every day, and she would brush them off with an innocent friendship. She led them on instead. Vidalia envied that girl! The shame!
Vidalia dreaded what was coming for her, the poor extra who didn't even exist—would she be discarded, sacrificed for the happy ending of the main characters?
And they lived happily ever after and had many children.
Surely not! Vidalia thought vehemently. She wasn't going to sacrifice her new life for that brat Angela! She deserved a happy ending too, didn't she?
Pacing in her room under Naya's worried gaze, Vidalia sighed. Arzhel had suggested running away—maybe she should reconsider? She smiled, thinking of her friend. Just thinking of him calmed her—the only person, besides Naya, she could call a friend, aside from Sorel, of course.
Finally, she calmed down, much to the relief of her little fairy, who handed her a handkerchief—a gift from Arzhel. The black fabric was embroidered in gold with Moonflowers. A flower that only bloomed in moonlight, pure white with a neon-green sheen. Arzhel had claimed he had sewn it himself, but Vidalia found it hard to believe that a mage apprentice could embroider so beautifully—maybe he had been a noble child? But his brother wouldn't have taken classes like that, reserved for young ladies.
Vidalia decided not to overthink things and wait. For now, she had to tell her friend about the trip to the capital. She got out of bed and went to change before going to sleep—the day had been long, and she truly needed rest.
For four years, Arzhel had been there for her, teaching her to control her element, read, do math, and understand the kingdom's history. With her memories from her previous life and her good memory, she had learned everything in no time. Unfortunately, Angela quickly realized her potential and exploited it, passing her homework to Vidalia and becoming lazier herself.
That was her problem, really. Vidalia learned a lot about a lady's duties and responsibilities, so that when she left this cursed family, she would find a good job as a servant—or even a governess! For that, she was grateful to her stepmother.
By hiding her face, no one in the manor would remember her, and she could start over. A cozy home and a stable job—that was her dream!
Arzhel had promised to help her leave her family, and she trusted him. She just had to wait, and a new world would open up to her.
Vidalia said goodnight to Naya, who was tucked into her little bed on the small desk. She closed her eyes with a smile and fell asleep instantly.
Two days passed, and preparations for the capital were already underway. For some reason, Angela was ecstatic. Usually unbearable, she now stayed in the background, letting the maids do all the work. But Vidalia had other thoughts—dozens of them—that were spinning in her head so fiercely it gave her a headache. Distracted, she packed Angela's things absentmindedly.
One question weighed on her: would she have to separate from Arzhel? Though the answer seemed obvious, she couldn't help but wonder. Arzhel was someone very important to her. If they parted ways, would they see each other soon?
No, no—Vidalia shook her head sadly as she set down Angela's newly packed hat box. Arzhel was a mage apprentice, and that meant a lot. He had already done so much for her, breaking countless rules. And above all, he had promised to help her escape.
Vidalia jumped slightly as Angela's shrill voice rang out behind her. She turned quickly to see Angela all dolled up, wearing her usual arrogant smile.
"You don't need to pack everything! We're leaving in a week," she demanded. "Leave my old dresses; I'll wear them in the meantime. You'll do the rest before we depart," she added with a smug smile, heading toward her bed.
Vidalia bit her tongue. Old dresses—she had only worn each of them once. Does she think packing and unpacking all this is easy? Vidalia sighed and began organizing the clothes. It wasn't good to be so lazy, making everyone run in circles. One day, it would catch up to her.
Vidalia sighed again. She was far from the heroine she had imagined herself to be. She disgusted her. Let's pray the protagonists weren't this annoying.
Sitting under the tree outside her bedroom window, Vidalia was already asleep. The full moon shone brightly, casting soft light over the small veiled figure. Her long bluish-black wavy hair danced around her in the breeze, creating an image worth carving in marble.
Even hidden behind the white veil, Vidalia looked like a f***ing nymph.
She was beautiful. But that damn veil hid her adorable face and her brilliant green eyes, full of intelligence and kindness!
He would do everything to remove that thing—and first, he had to get rid of the Sullivans.
Arzhel didn't know when he had become so possessive of Vidalia, but he was certain he had to protect her.
He smiled, touched. He wanted so badly to keep her away from everything.
She must have been very tired to fall asleep so quickly; usually, she stayed up later. He draped his cloak over her and sat beside her silently, glancing quickly for Naya but not seeing her. She must have been asleep too.
He returned his attention to Vidalia. When he had met her four years ago, it had been out of curiosity that he had decided to help her. He wanted to see the Sullivan family decline before destroying them himself. Arzhel's eyes darkened dangerously, ruby-red eyes flashing with anger and bitterness. The wind strengthened, shaking the trees, and his ashen hair whipped wildly around his furious face.
Vidalia whimpered in discomfort, curling against him. He calmed quickly, and the air became warmer and crackled with energy. He needed to be more careful—he almost burned his precious friend.
Spending so much time with her, he had developed a sort of obsession—but how could he not when the object of it was so… alluring?
He ran a hand through her hair, lifting a strand to his lips, a sly smile forming on his face. He wanted to kidnap her and hide her from the bastards, to keep this beautiful scene all to himself.
He didn't want her to hate him. Arzhel thought for a moment, staring at Vidalia.
He would wait. She was his anyway. He just had to remove the obstacles, and she could live a queen's life… his queen.
His lips stretched into a possessive smile, as if claiming something that wasn't his yet. But in his mind, she already belonged to him. What a strange feeling.
Vidalia stirred softly, slowly sitting up, each movement measured, as if her body carried the weight of her thoughts. Her hands slid gently along the surface, seeking support, before she finally stood, her gaze still distant.
"Arzhel?" she mumbled groggily.
Arzhel smirked. "Nice nap, princess?" he teased gently.
Suddenly, Vidalia jumped up and moved toward him quickly, catching him by surprise.
"I'm leaving the city!" she shouted, panicked.
Arzhel's face tensed.
"Excuse me?" he asked, his smile frozen, eyes darkening.
Should he kidnap her after all…?
To be continued