Chapter 8 The Eve of the Feast

The entire Vance estate was loud and chaotic. Servants rushed down the wide hallways, carrying silver platters, tall stacks of clean sheets, and heavy crates of expensive wine. Lord Alistair had spent the entire morning shouting orders, wanting every single corner of the house to look perfect for the arrival of the Crown Prince.

Rudy stood near the grand staircase, watching the frantic movement with a calm expression. He had spent the last two weeks refining his silent magic, but his thoughts were currently on the night ahead. Tomorrow was the banquet. The deadline was finally here.

"Move out of the way!" a head maid yelled, pushing a cart full of fresh flowers past him.

Rudy stepped back against the wall, letting her pass. He decided to head back to his quarters to avoid the noise. As he walked down the quieter, dimmer corridor leading to the family rooms, he heard a faint sound of frustration coming from a small dressing alcove.

He stopped and looked inside.

Bella was standing in front of a mirror, her face pale and tight with anger. She was wearing a heavy, bright silver gown with intricate embroidery. The dress was beautiful, but it was far too small and tight around her frame. The stiff collar was digging deeply into the skin of her neck, leaving a red mark.

Her arms were bent behind her back as she tried desperately to fix a jammed metal clasp near her shoulder. Her fingers kept slipping, and she let out a sharp, angry breath.

"Need some help?" Rudy asked quietly from the doorway.

Bella jumped, spinning around to face him. Her dark eyes flashed with an instant shield of defense. Her hands dropped to her sides, but the movement only caused the tight material to pull painfully against her throat, making her cough.

"I don't need anything from you," Bella said, her voice strained and tight because of the collar. "Go away, Rudeus."

Rudy did not leave. Instead, he stepped into the dim room, walking slowly toward her. "If you keep pulling at it like that, you are going to rip the cloth or cut your own skin. My father will be furious if you ruin his expensive display before the Prince even gets here."

Bella bit her lip, looking down at the floorboards. "He forced me into this. He said I have to look like a proper lady of House Vance. It feels like a leash."

"It is a leash," Rudy said honestly. He stopped right behind her, looking at her reflection in the glass. "But you can't break it by choking yourself."

He reached out his hands. Bella tensed up immediately, her shoulders rising as if she expected him to grab her or push her around like he used to do. She held her breath, her eyes locking onto his fingers in the mirror.

"Stay still," Rudy murmured.

Instead of mocking her or using the moment to be cruel, Rudy was incredibly gentle. His large, pale hands moved behind her neck. His fingers carefully brushed past her long, cool silver hair, making sure not to pull a single strand. He found the small metal clasp that had bent out of shape, cutting directly into her skin.

Using a tiny, invisible pinch of his compressed magic, he straightened the metal without making a sound. The tight pressure around Bella’s neck vanished instantly.

He smoothed the back of the collar down, his warm fingers accidentally brushing against the bare skin of her shoulder. A sudden, heavy silence fell over the small room.

Bella’s breath hitched. She stared at the mirror, her cheeks suddenly turning a soft, warm pink. She looked at Rudy’s face in the reflection. He wasn't smiling a mean smile. He wasn't looking at her like she was property. He just looked calm, serious, and strangely protective.

Rudy stepped back, dropping his hands into his pockets. "There. It should be easier to breathe now."

Bella slowly turned around to face him, her hand moving up to touch her neck where the metal had just been digging in. She looked at him for a long time, her heart beating a little faster against her ribs.

"Why did you do that?" she asked softly. "The old you would have laughed at me. He would have pulled it tighter just to hear me beg."

"The old me was an idiot," Rudy said, his voice flat but genuine. "I told you before, Bella. Things are changing. Tomorrow night, the Prince is going to look at you like a prize, and my father is going to try to sell you to him. I need you to keep your head clear, not choke on a dress."

Bella’s defensive gaze softened just a fraction. The intense suspicion in her eyes faded, replaced by a deep, quiet confusion. "You speak as if you are on my side. But if the Prince wants me, nobody can stop him. Not even Father."

"We will see about that," Rudy said, a small, confident spark appearing in his black eyes. "Just don't lose your temper tomorrow. Let me handle the heavy lifting."

Before Bella could ask what he meant, the sound of loud footsteps echoed down the hallway. Lord Alistair's deep voice carried through the air, barking orders at a group of guards.

Rudy gave Bella a brief nod and walked out of the alcove, blending back into the shadows of the mansion before his father could spot them together.

Bella stayed in the small room alone, looking at her reflection. She touched her shoulder where his hand had rested just a moment ago, feeling a strange, lingering warmth that she had never felt in this cold house before. For the first time since she was adopted, she didn't feel entirely alone.