The Villainess Refuses to Follow the Script-Chapter 99

Beatrice woke to noises. Too much of it.

Voices overlapped like crashing waves. Firm commands, hushed arguments, the rustle of silk and leather and urgent footfalls across the floor. Her head throbbed as if someone had wedged a bell between her ears and struck it twice.

"Give her room," someone barked.

"The bleeding stopped," another voice murmured. "She’s stable now. But that was a nasty fall."

The blur above her sharpened. Light fractured behind moving shapes, and then Francois came into focus. His face was pale with fury.

"Beatrice," he said, his voice tight. His hand hovered near her shoulder, not quite touching. "You’re awake. Thank the gods."

Beatrice tried to speak, but her mouth felt like sand.

"You’re awake..." Princess Lila sobbed somewhere nearby.

A physician stepped closer, checking her pulse with cold fingers. Another placed a cloth over her forehead. Beatrice winced.

Francois turned sharply. "Everyone out, all of you. Except the royal family."

No one moved until Queen Cecile’s voice snapped across the room.

"Do as he says."

The room cleared slowly until only the queen, the king, Magnus, Lila, and her parents remained.

Beatrice tried to sit up, but Francois gently pushed her back against the pillows.

"Don’t," he said. "You hit your head. You’ve been unconscious for a while."

She blinked at the room, taking in Lila’s red-rimmed eyes, the tight set of Conrad’s mouth, the furious gleam in Ethel’s. And Magnus, standing with arms crossed, eyes fixed on the wall.

Francois looked back at the queen. "This farce ends here. No more hearings, no more council debates. Someone attacked the future queen of Vasqueria. That is treason."

Beatrice inhaled sharply. "Francois—"

"No," he said, turning back to her. "You almost died. And we’re pretending it was an accident? A misunderstanding?"

The king said nothing. Queen Cecile’s expression remained unreadable.

Francois pressed on. "Invoke the royal prerogative. Skip the trial and sentence them. The entire Lockhart family."

Lila let out a quiet sob again.

Ethel Da Ville stepped forward. "He’s right," she said, her voice too calm. "An attack on Beatrice is an attack on the crown. It cannot be forgiven."

Conrad nodded. "The people will expect swift punishment. Leniency here will look like weakness."

"That’s enough." Beatrice sat up, wincing.

Francois whirled. "No, it’s not—"

"She didn’t mean to push me," Beatrice said, voice strained. "It got heated. It was an accident."

"So was the letter in my old rooms?" Magnus snapped. "Also an accident?"

Beatrice looked at her brother.

"You think that fall was the only weapon they used? They sent you threats. They played their part in the border unrest. Their allegiances are clear."

"Exactly," Conrad said. "The longer we let this fester, the more damage it will do. What happens when the court thinks Beatrice deserved it?"

Her hands curled against the sheets.

"I’m not defending them," she said. "But execution is too much."

Francois stared at her in disbelief.

"Banishment," Beatrice said quickly. "Strip their titles, their estates. Make sure they cannot buy loyalty again. But killing them outright—"

"Is merciful," Magnus cut in. "Banishment gives them time to recover and to plot. You think they won’t run to Lucenbourg the moment we cast them out? You think they won’t trade our secrets to save their skins?"

Francois looked at his parents. "You have the power to end this. Say the word."

Queen Cecile met her son’s gaze. Her fingers drummed once on the armrest. Then she turned to her husband.

King Marshall remained quiet, his eyes fixed on the fireplace.

"We will consider it," he said finally. "Every angle. Every consequence."

Conrad stepped forward again. "Your Majesties, Vasqueria cannot appear weak in this moment. You both know what must be done."

"You," the queen said, "will not tell me what Vasqueria can or cannot be."

Beatrice exhaled slowly, her head pounding.

The king stood. "This discussion is over. We will deliver a verdict within the next day. Until then, no one is to interfere."

"Yes, Father." Francois bowed reluctantly.

The room began to empty. Lila lingered by the door, casting one last worried look before slipping out.

Francois paused, his hand on the doorframe.

"You should’ve let me fight for you."

"You did," she said softly. "Now let me fight for what’s left of me."

Beatrice lay back against the pillows, Elisha curling up beside her once the room was empty.

Her eyes drifted closed, but sleep would not come. And somewhere, she knew, Johanna was sitting in silence, wondering if the next knock on her door would be the end.

Beatrice didn’t sleep that night. Even with the soft purring of Elisha pressed to her ribs and the distant hush of the palace dimming the noise, her mind churned like storm water.

Words replayed themselves, over and over. Execution, banishment, treason. Her name threaded through it all like a fragile stitch, threatening to snap.

Outside her window, dawn began to silver the edges of the sky.

The ache in her skull had dulled to a throb, but her stomach was a tight, twisting thing. She hadn’t eaten since this morning, but the thought of food made her nauseous.

The knock at her door just after sunrise made her flinch. Lila walked in carefully.

"I brought tea," the princess said softly when she entered, the tray balanced with an unsteady grip. "And fruit. And, whatever this is."

She set the tray down and sat on the edge of the bed. Beatrice stared at the teacup.

"I’m sorry," Lila blurted. "For yesterday, for everything."

Beatrice shook her head. "You didn’t do anything."

Lila’s hands twisted in her lap. "I was afraid. Your head was bleeding and... and Johanna—"

"Lila, please..." Beatrice closed her eyes and shook her head.

Silence stretched between them.

Then Lila whispered, "They’re going to execute her, aren’t they?"

Beatrice didn’t answer.

"They’ll do it to protect you," Lila added, quieter. "Even if you beg them not to."

Beatrice opened her eyes, glassy and unfocused. "I don’t want her dead. I won’t let it happen."

"I know."

After Lila left, the room felt too big. The light too sharp. She forced herself to stand but her balance held, barely.

She dressed slowly, rejecting all the ornate gowns Lily would have chosen. She found a simple navy dress, one without embroidery or lace.

Later that day, Conrad and Ethel were summoned back into the king’s audience chamber for further deliberations. Beatrice wasn’t asked to attend, but she slipped out anyway, trailing through corridors like a shadow. The guards stationed outside Johanna’s room were still posted. Stiff, silent, and unmoving.

She didn’t approach.

Instead, she wandered the east gardens until the skies grew darker, her mind ticking through possibilities.

What if she intervenes again? What if she beg once more for mercy?

Would it matter? Would it change anything?

She wasn’t sure anymore.