The dreaded day of the ball arrived far too quickly for Rynhara's liking. The castle was a hive of activity, with staff running to and fro, preparing the grand hall for the arrival of foreign dignitaries, nobles, and esteemed guests.
Rynhara, however, was in the dressing chambers, being primped and prepared by a small army of maids and seamstresses.
"Stop tugging!" Rynhara growled as a maid struggled to adjust the back of her ornate gown. The dress—a masterpiece of black silk, accented with shimmering red and green embroidery to match her eyes—was stunning, but it felt like wearing a cage.
"Patience, Your Highness," Lady Vaelith chided, standing nearby. "Appearance is everything tonight. You must embody grace, power, and elegance."
"I'll embody a meltdown if this corset gets any tighter," Rynhara muttered, earning a stifled laugh from Kaelira, who lounged against a nearby wall, looking effortlessly smug in her own elegant attire.
"You look like a proper princess," Kaelira teased. "Which is to say, you look like you're dying inside."
"Oh, I am," Rynhara replied, trying to stretch her wings only to have them restrained by the dress's design. "Who needs wings anyway? Totally overrated."
When the ball began, Rynhara stood at the top of the grand staircase leading into the ballroom, Tiamora at her side. The room below was filled with a dazzling array of guests—humans, elves, beastfolk, and even a few demons.
As the orchestra struck up a triumphant melody, Tiamora leaned down and whispered, "Remember, darling, confidence. You are the heir to my throne. Let them see your strength."
Rynhara swallowed her nerves and descended the staircase, her movements surprisingly graceful thanks to weeks of training (and a lot of yelling from Lady Vaelith). Her mismatched eyes scanned the crowd, noting the mix of awe, curiosity, and—thanks to her Villainess title—a little fear.
The whispers began almost immediately.
"She's stunning."
"Did you see her wings?"
"Is she smiling, or is that a predatory smirk?"
By the time she reached the bottom, she felt less like a princess and more like a curiosity on display.
Tiamora wasted no time introducing Rynhara to the key figures in attendance. The first was a human duke with an impressive mustache and an ego to match.
"Ah, the young dragon princess," the duke said with a bow, though his tone was laced with condescension. "I've heard... interesting things about you."
Rynhara's smile didn't waver, but her tail swished dangerously behind her. "Likewise, Duke. I've heard you have a fondness for flamboyant hats."
The duke's face reddened as Kaelira stifled a laugh nearby. Tiamora, ever the diplomat, smoothly redirected the conversation.
Next was an elven diplomat who seemed fascinated by Rynhara's mismatched eyes. "Such unique features," he remarked. "Are they common among dragons?"
"No," Rynhara replied. "But I hear asking invasive questions is common among elves."
Lady Vaelith, observing from a distance, pinched the bridge of her nose.
As the evening wore on, Rynhara finally spotted Reinhard across the ballroom. The former hero looked as impressive as ever—tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing a formal suit that somehow still managed to scream adventurer. His gaze met hers, and he smiled, making his way through the crowd.
Rynhara tensed, unsure of what to say. This was the first time they'd seen each other since her reincarnation, and the memories of her past life as his student weighed heavily on her.
"Rynhara," Reinhard greeted warmly, bowing slightly. "Or should I call you Princess?"
"Rynhara's fine," she said, trying to keep her tone casual. "You clean up well, Reinhard. I barely recognized you without the dirt and monster guts."
He chuckled. "And you look... different."
"That's one way to put it," she muttered. "What brings you here?"
Reinhard shrugged. "The invitation. And curiosity. I wanted to see how my old student is faring in her new life."
"You mean you wanted to see if I'd fallen flat on my face yet."
"Not at all," he said with a grin. "Though I won't lie, the idea crossed my mind."
Rynhara rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling.
"Speaking of which how did you know it was me?"
"Oh that ? Your mother told everything in the letter she sent me, after all she is the one who invited me."
"Oh, I see. That makes sense. Damn it ! I bet she just did this to get a good laugh didn't she."
As the evening progressed, Rynhara found herself—surprisingly—handling the ball better than expected. She even managed to navigate a few dances without tripping and most importantly not setting anything on fire, though the effort had left her mentally exhausted.
It was during a brief lull in the festivities that the familiar mechanical voice of the world rang in her mind:
"Congratulations! Through persistent effort and social interaction, you have advanced the skill Etiquette to Rank D."
Rynhara froze mid-sip of her drink.
"What's wrong?" Kaelira asked, appearing at her side.
"I just leveled up my Etiquette skill," Rynhara said, sounding almost offended.
Kaelira laughed. "See? You're becoming a real princess after all."
"Great," Rynhara muttered. "Next thing you know, I'll be crowned 'Miss Congeniality.'"
Kaelira smirked. "I'd pay top gold to see that."
As the night wound down, Rynhara stood by a balcony overlooking the castle gardens, the cool night air soothing her frazzled nerves. Tiamora joined her, a proud smile on her face.
"You did well tonight," Tiamora said.
"Did I?" Rynhara asked. "Felt more like surviving than thriving."
"Survival is the first step to ruling," Tiamora said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "And you've taken that step beautifully."
For the first time, Rynhara felt a flicker of pride. Maybe, just maybe, she was getting the hang of this.