Between Destruction and Pleasure - Chapter 2

Adolf Taylor was the closest aide to Duke Lucas Williams.

Though the nobles on the second floor were safe from being overheard on the first floor, just the sight of Taylor standing below was enough to seal their lips.

“Ahem, that was close. I’d best be going now,” one of them said hurriedly.

“Yes, I should head downstairs as well…”

Even if a bit of gossip about Lucas might occasionally slip out in private, no one in their right mind wanted to risk angering the Duke. The consequences of falling out of his favor far outweighed the satisfaction of snide remarks.

Lucas had already left the ballroom and was now leaning against a discreet pillar outside.

His gaze followed Catherine as she made her way back to her quarters. The faint light spilling through the windows illuminated her long silver hair, making it shimmer in the darkness.

“Cruel, huh…?”

He muttered the word thoughtfully, tapping his shoe lightly against the ground. A wry smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head.

“To me, she seemed… soft.”

The Catherine he had observed tonight was anything but cruel. She could have smashed the champagne bottle directly over Evelyn’s head, but instead, she had thrown it to the side, deliberately avoiding her target.

If Catherine had struck her with the bottle, the talk of the ballroom would have been of the princess finally losing her mind—and no one would dare test her again. Whether Evelyn survived would have been a matter for later discussion.

Even when she slapped Evelyn, Catherine had used her left hand, despite being right-handed. The force of the slap was likely much weaker than it could have been.

Moreover, her right hand bore a large ruby ring. Had she struck with that hand, Evelyn’s face would have been left with a severe and unmistakable wound.

Whether Catherine had calculated all of this or not was irrelevant.

Even if such a move had earned her some punishment, Catherine didn’t strike Lucas as someone who feared consequences.

Lucas considered how he might have responded in her place. If someone had dared to slight him like that, he wouldn’t have hesitated to draw his sword on the spot.

By his standards, Catherine’s actions were almost lenient.

He only turned to leave after Catherine’s silhouette disappeared entirely from view.

“Lucas… Duke Williams.”

A soft, delicate voice called out to him. Lucas turned to see Princess Olivia approaching.

Her golden hair, the pride of the imperial family, gleamed in the dim light, and her calm blue eyes blinked at him expectantly.

Unlike Catherine, Olivia was known for her gentle and elegant demeanor. She, too, was a daughter of the Empress, embodying everything the royal family celebrated.

“You’ve arrived, Princess Olivia,” Lucas greeted, his tone polite but distant.

“The party’s just getting started,” Olivia said, her wide, innocent blue eyes staring up at him. “Where are you off to?”

Lucas responded with a practiced smile, tilting his head in a slight bow.

“Urgent business calls me away. I hope you enjoy the festivities.”

With that, he strode past her, his long steps unhurried but purposeful.

Olivia’s composed expression faltered momentarily. Her delicate features twitched as her eyes trembled with barely concealed resentment, but she quickly smoothed her expression into a serene smile.

“Princess Olivia, come quickly! Everyone’s waiting for you!”

At the sound of cheerful voices calling her, Olivia turned back toward the ballroom.

“I’m coming,” she said, her voice warm and melodic.

As she entered the room, the earlier tension following Catherine’s departure seemed to dissipate, replaced by the lively, harmonious atmosphere that Olivia brought with her.

“Did you hear? Princess Catherine threw a bottle earlier and shattered it!”

“Oh my, is that true?”

“And she walked off with her head held high, as brazen and vicious as ever…”

“As I always say, she’s nothing like Princess Olivia. The difference in their upbringing is just too stark.”

The nobles clustered around Princess Olivia, chattering away about the earlier incident.

Olivia listened quietly, her expression unchanging. Finally, she inclined her head gracefully, her golden hair glinting under the light.

“Oh dear, it seems Sister Catherine disrupted the party again. Please accept my apologies on her behalf.”

The surrounding nobles, as they always did, seized the opportunity to heap praise on Olivia while drawing unfavorable comparisons to Catherine.

“You’re so kind and thoughtful, Princess Olivia, unlike a certain someone.”

“Truly, you’re the pride of the royal family. How fortunate we are to have you.”

Olivia responded to the flattery with a serene smile, her demeanor poised and elegant as ever. Inside, however, her thoughts remained hidden, masked perfectly behind her carefully maintained facade.

* * *

As Catherine returned to her quarters, she heard a voice call her name from a shadowy side path.

“Catherine.”

The moment she recognized it, a wave of irritation and fear washed over her, causing her to shiver slightly.

“Couldn’t help yourself, could you? Heard you caused another scene,” the voice drawled mockingly.

“What’s it to you?” Catherine shot back, her tone sharp.

The voice belonged to Maron Eden Linsward, the second prince and her half-brother.

If the first prince, Neron, dismissed Catherine as beneath notice, Maron made it a point to torment her whenever he could.

As Catherine furrowed her brow and tried to walk past him, Maron seized her wrist—the same one Neron had gripped earlier. His hold was even tighter, twisting her around to face him. The force would surely leave a bruise by morning.

“Now, now, Sister. I’m just here to deliver a message from His Majesty,” Maron said with mock politeness, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Ugh. Then say it and get lost already,” Catherine growled, her voice filled with venom as if she might spit in his face.

Maron, unfazed, let his hand linger provocatively near her waist.

“What’s the rush, dear Sister? Why so tense?” he teased.

“You disgusting bastard!” Catherine snarled, raising her hand to slap him.

But Maron was faster. He caught her wrist mid-air, his smirk growing even wider.

Smack!

His large hand came down across her cheek, leaving her pale, delicate skin flushed bright red.

“And where does someone like you get the nerve to raise a hand at me? Do you have a death wish?” Maron sneered.

Even as pain burned on her cheek, Catherine clutched it tightly and glared at him, her fiery crimson eyes refusing to yield.

“Those cursed red eyes,” Maron spat, his voice dripping with disdain. “Are you even sure we share the same father? How is it that you alone turned out so… different?”

Her defiant gaze only fueled his anger further. Grinding his teeth, he raised his hand to strike her again.

“You still haven’t learned your lesson—”

“Your Highness! Princess Catherine!”

A frantic voice rang out from a distance. Catherine turned her head to see someone running toward her, skirts billowing behind them.

It was Amy Campbell, her lady-in-waiting and the daughter of an earl.

Maron hesitated, his hand frozen mid-air. With a chuckle, he lowered it and shoved Catherine aside roughly.

“Princess!” Amy cried, rushing to Catherine’s side and steadying her swaying figure.

“Well, Father has ordered a week of confinement for you. Make sure to behave yourself, Sister Catherine,” Maron said with a mocking tone before spitting near her feet.

“You’re a disgrace to the royal family,” he added venomously before turning and walking away.

Only after he disappeared did Catherine release a heavy sigh, lifting her head to face Amy’s worried expression.

“Your Highness, what should we do? Your cheek is so swollen…”

“Nothing new, Amy. Let’s just head back to Ivy Palace,” Catherine replied, her tone weary but composed.

Amy clenched her teeth but refrained from saying more. Protesting now would only make things worse. Catherine seemed to share the sentiment, lowering her head as they made their way back without another word.

Amy gently dabbed at Catherine’s cheek, her touch light but her frustration evident. The angry red swelling on Catherine’s pale face was a stark reminder of Maron’s unrestrained violence.

“That brute… He didn’t hold back at all,” Amy muttered under her breath, her voice shaking with anger.

Catherine, still sprawled on the bed, chuckled softly as if to brush off the concern.

“Don’t waste your energy being angry, Amy. It’s not worth it,” she said, her tone light but tinged with weariness.

“How can I not be angry when he treats you like this, Your Highness?” Amy replied, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Because being angry won’t change a thing,” Catherine said simply, her crimson eyes staring at the ceiling. “I’ve learned that much.”

Amy bit her lip and resumed cleaning Catherine’s face, wiping away the last traces of makeup. Despite her irritation, she worked with care, revealing Catherine’s unblemished features, save for the glaring bruise on her cheek.

“You’re so beautiful, Your Highness,” Amy murmured, her voice softening as she admired Catherine’s natural complexion.

“Beautiful?” Catherine echoed with a sardonic laugh. “If only beauty could protect me from fists and insults.”

“Your silver hair alone is enough to make anyone jealous,” Amy said, running her fingers through the silken strands. “It’s like moonlight.”

“Silver hair,” Catherine muttered bitterly, her hand rising to touch the ends of her locks. “Do you know how many times I wished it was gold? Maybe then I’d belong here.”

Amy frowned, unsure how to respond. She knew Catherine’s hair had always been a source of both admiration and alienation.

“Do you know what’s ironic?” Catherine continued, her voice quieter now. “There’s someone in this palace with golden hair, yet they’re treated even worse than I am. At least I get to stay in the Ivy Palace. They don’t even have that much.”

She was referring to Sayren, her only sibling by her mother’s side, whose existence was a reminder of the harsh realities of royal life.

Amy remained silent, recognizing the weight of Catherine’s words.

Suddenly, Catherine clapped her hands, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.

“Anyway, enough about that. Let’s look on the bright side—an entire week of confinement!”

“Your Highness…” Amy groaned, exasperated. “You’re the only person in the world who gets excited about being grounded.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Catherine retorted, her tone cheerful. “No one will bother me, no ridiculous parties, no Maron, no Neron. Just peace and quiet.”

She stretched her arms and let out a contented sigh, as though confinement were a luxury.

Amy shook her head but couldn’t help smiling at Catherine’s shift in mood.

“Still, you shouldn’t neglect your skincare routine,” Amy scolded as she prepared to tidy up.

“Fine, fine,” Catherine muttered, pulling a blanket over herself. “But tomorrow. I’m too tired tonight.”

“Your Highness, you’ll regret it if your skin suffers,” Amy pressed, but Catherine was already drifting off, her expression finally relaxed.

As Amy cleaned up the room and prepared to leave, she glanced back at Catherine, who lay peacefully in bed, her silver hair spilling across the pillows like liquid light.

“I just wish the world could see this side of you,” Amy whispered to herself before quietly exiting the room.