The Curse Crown

Chapter 4

"Mom, Dad!" Marcela called out quickly to her parents, who were visibly anxious and had been waiting by the entrance of the grand hall. Marcela and I hurried our pace, sensing that we might be running late.

"Thank goodness you're here," Marcela's mother said with a look of relief on her face, glad that we made it before their family's name was announced by the herald. It turns out that at royal events like this, the names of invited families are called out one by one as they enter the palace.

Before we entered, I quickly glanced at my reflection in a large mirror on the opposite side of the doorway. Just then, someone tapped my shoulder—likely an attendant tasked with recording the names of each guest in the palace. Marcela noticed and promptly responded, "She’s with the Wincaster family."

The attendant simply nodded, a sign of acknowledgment, and quickly wrote it down on his list. After that, we were called to follow Marcela's parents, who were just ahead of us.

"Lord and Lady Wincaster, with their daughter, Lady Marcela, and a... relative," the herald announced, pausing slightly before adding me as a "relative." I wasn’t surprised; after all, I wasn't well-known, unlike Marcela, the only daughter of the Wincasters. Her family was respected and recognized even without royal blood because of their renowned clothing business, which was the primary supplier for the entire kingdom and neighboring lands.

We walked toward the throne where the king and queen were seated. On either side, there were two men standing, but I couldn’t get a good look at them as I kept my head down, feeling shy. I couldn’t help but notice that people had been staring at us since we stepped out of the carriage. It seemed they were particularly impressed with Marcela, who looked every bit the princess with her regal appearance.

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We bowed deeply before the King and Queen as we stood in their presence.

"Please, raise your heads," the King commanded.

I looked up at them, and for a moment, it felt as if I was gazing at angels who had descended to earth. Their skin was flawless, their features so elegant, and they seemed to shine like diamonds. Their regal aura was undeniable—sophisticated and exuding a sense of nobility that left no doubt of their royal bloodline.

"We are delighted to have you join our celebration," the Queen spoke, her voice gentle and calm, radiating a serene grace.

"Our family is deeply honored that you have graciously allowed us to attend this important celebration, Your Majesties," Marcela's father respectfully said.

"Are these your children?" the Queen inquired, referring to Marcela and me.Marcela's mother quickly reached for Marcela's hand, pulling her closer with a gentle tug."Ah yes, Your Highness, this is my daughter, Marcela," she responded, clearly eager to present her daughter to the Queen. "She's top of her class, and like her father, she's exceptionally talented in the arts and fashion design," her mother proudly added, her attempt to downplay her enthusiasm barely concealed.

"Mom," Marcela whispered to her mother, her tone clearly indicating that she was trying to stop her. The embarrassment was evident on her face as she shyly tried to rein her mother in.

"And who is this?" the King asked, his gaze shifting to me as I stood behind them, almost as if I were trying to hide.

"Oh, this is Clariza, my cousin on my father's side," Marcela quickly and excitedly responded, gesturing for me to step closer to them.

"Greetings, Your Majesties," I managed to say before bowing deeply."What a beautiful young lady you are. What is your name?" the Queen asked, her gaze warm and inviting.Did I hear that right? Did the Queen just call me beautiful? I felt a flush of shyness, but beneath it, there was a spark of happiness at her compliment."My name is Clariza," I replied, my voice steady but soft. "Clariza Benette."

"Benette? That name sounds familiar," the King mused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I believe I've met someone with the name Benette before, though I can't quite recall when."He paused briefly, then smiled graciously. "Anyway, please enjoy yourselves here."We offered our thanks and bowed one last time before moving to the side where the other guests were gathered.I let out a deep breath I hadn't realized I was holding. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that a commoner like me would have the chance to stand so close to the King and Queen.

Marcela and I walked toward a long table overflowing with a lavish array of food. Servers moved gracefully among the guests, offering wine with elegant ease. The atmosphere was incredibly sophisticated, with musicians performing nearby, their melodies delightful to the ears.

Marcela's parents had already mingled with the other guests, likely seeking to connect with fellow businesspeople who might become potential partners. This seemed like the perfect opportunity for them to network and forge valuable connections for their business.

Marcela handed me a glass of white wine, and I grimaced slightly at its bitterness—I'm not used to drinking wine. As we moved through the crowd, she pointed out various royals and prominent figures in the kingdom, explaining who they were.I listened politely, though I wasn't particularly interested in making their acquaintance. As a humble commoner, I knew our paths were unlikely to cross—unless they happened to buy bread from us, I thought with a chuckle.

In the middle of Marcela’s explanation, she suddenly stopped, as if she had been hypnotized. "Hey, are you okay?" I asked, giving her a gentle shake. It was like she had momentarily lost herself.She looked at me with eyes full of excitement. "It’s...it’s Sir Ivan Thornsdel," she stammered, pointing toward a man surrounded by a crowd of admirers."Who’s that?" I asked, puzzled by how starstruck she seemed."Sir Ivan is a renowned makeup artist, famously known as 'Hands of Heaven,'" Marcela explained, her voice brimming with admiration."‘Hands of Heaven’? That sounds a bit over the top," I thought, rolling my eyes inwardly at the dramatic title."He’s only the best in the field," she continued, undeterred. "He can turn an ugly duckling into a magnificent, gorgeous swan with his incredible makeup skills."

"Okay, I get it, he's amazing," I said with a knowing smile. "And I also see those eager eyes of yours, cousin. You want to go over there and meet him, don’t you? Don’t worry about me, I’m fine here. Go on, go to him," I encouraged Marcela, who was clearly itching to dash over to Sir Ivan.

This was the least I could do for her after she’d spent the entire evening by my side, never leaving me alone. Thanks to her, I got the chance to experience an event like this.She hugged me tightly and thanked me before heading off, promising she wouldn’t be long.But I bet she will be.

I grabbed a few desserts, not even knowing their names, but I was amazed by the taste—perfectly balanced, not too sweet, and simply delicious.

I was about to reach for more when I accidentally bumped into a woman, causing some of her drink to spill onto her dress."I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!" I immediately apologized, grabbing a napkin from the table and instinctively reaching to wipe the spot where the drink had spilled. But she stepped back, her expression one of clear disgust.

"Touch this dress, and I’ll make sure you use your own clothes to clean it," she snapped, her voice dripping with malice and arrogance.

I was left speechless, stunned not just by her rudeness but by the realization of who she was—the same woman from the carriage that nearly ran me over this morning. I wanted so badly to confront her about it, to give her a piece of my mind. But I remembered where I was, in the palace, and the last thing I wanted was to embarrass Marcela's family because of me.So I lowered my head and apologized again, hoping she wouldn’t recognize me.

"Wait, do I know you?" she asked, scrutinizing me closely. I tried to hide my face behind my hair, hoping she wouldn’t recognize me.She suddenly grabbed my hand, which took me by surprise, as if trying to get a better look at me up close. After a moment, she released my hand and examined me from head to toe."Impossible, it can’t be you," she finally said. Despite her words, she continued to scold me for the small stain on her dress, which was barely noticeable. Her reaction made it seem like I had ruined her entire day.I wanted nothing more than to escape from her presence, but every time I attempted to move, her voice grew louder, drawing the attention of nearby guests.

Then, from behind me, a deep, authoritative voice spoke up.

"That’s enough, Euphemia. Your father has been looking for you. You should go."The voice was firm and carried a clear sense of authority.

"But, but...augh!" Euphemia protested, but ultimately, she had no choice but to comply. With a frustrated sigh, she turned and left.

Whoever this man was, I felt as if he had been sent from heaven. His intervention had finally driven away the insufferable woman. I turned around, eager to see the face of my unexpected savior, and my heart skipped a beat.

To my astonishment, it was the same man who had bumped into me earlier, causing my cookies to scatter and ruin. His presence now seemed almost surreal, a twist of fate that I could hardly believe. The very person responsible for my earlier misfortune was now the one who had rescued me from further humiliation.

"Damn it," I cursed inwardly. Of all the people who could have helped, why did it have to be him? The same man who had already caused me trouble earlier. It felt as though I now owed him something, a debt of gratitude

But then it struck me—if that woman hadn’t recognized me, perhaps he wouldn’t either. Before I could fully grasp the thought, he leaned in close to my ear, his breath warm and tantalizing against my skin.

"You're that commoner girl from this morning," he whispered, his voice a deep, velvety murmur.

My heart began to race uncontrollably. I was caught in a whirlwind of confusion—was my racing heartbeat because he had identified me as a commoner, or was it the closeness, the intoxicating scent of his cologne mingling with the warmth of his breath that set my pulse racing? The sensation was both thrilling and unnerving, leaving me breathless.

I took a step back, summoning all my courage to ask, “Who are you?” My gaze scrutinized him thoroughly. He was undeniably handsome—there was no denying it. His striking looks, chiseled physique, and compelling voice made him perfect from every angle. He even bore a slight resemblance to the king himself.

He looked at me with a mix of curiosity and a hint of arrogance, as if he were silently challenging me to keep staring. The combination of his regal presence and the subtle, confident smirk on his lips only added to the intensity of the moment.

He was dressed in elegant clothing that clearly showed he was from a wealthy family. I noticed a special badge on his chest that was similar to the ones worn by the king and queen earlier. It was clear—he was royalty.

Everything about him, from his refined outfit to the way he carried himself, made it obvious that he was of high rank nobility.

“I am Prince Theodore Kingsley of Silvercrest,” he declared with an air of undeniable authority. The way he spoke, with such commanding presence, left no room for doubt about his royal status.

Even though we were standing so close, I was struck by the stark realization of the gap between our statuses—he was royalty, while I was a mere commoner. The contrast felt like a chasm between heaven and earth.

A commoner who doesnt belong in this place.

"You may be dressed elegantly now, surrounded by nobles and the wealthy, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re a commoner. And commoners don’t belong here," he said with an icy tone.I stood frozen, stunned by his harsh words. The sting of his remarks was undeniable, a painful truth he laid bare. I couldn’t understand why he spoke with such cold detachment. Unlike Euphemia, who had been openly scornful, his words were blunt and matter-of-fact, devoid of the overt cruelty. His demeanor was distant and frank, but it felt almost as if he wasn’t fully aware of the impact of his words.

Even though it hurt, I had to accept that I truly didn’t belong in this world. I felt tears welling up, and I knew if I stayed any longer, he might see me cry.

Without saying another word, I excused myself with a hurried bow and fled the hall. I had no destination in mind; all I wanted was to escape that place.As I walked, tears began to flow uncontrollably. I couldn’t understand why I was so hurt. After all, I was just a commoner. Perhaps I had been too ambitious in coming here, knowing I didn’t belong. Maybe my emotions and exhaustion from the entire day had just caught up with me. My feet ached from walking in unfamiliar high heels.I found a dimly lit bench beneath some trees, where lanterns hung softly, casting a gentle light. Sitting there, I couldn’t hold back the tears.

“Can this get any worse?” I whispered through my sobs. Just then, the rain began to pour, making it clear that, yes, it could.