Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 278: The Favored Princess

That Saturday, Amelia arrived at the Norse manor for her much-anticipated visit. Draped in soft training dress and buzzing with excitement, she had come to learn the intricacies of Lara’s dancing—she had promised to teach her.

Mira was already there, her smile polished and pristine, hiding the resentment that simmered beneath her calm facade. She moved with calculated grace, pretending to dote on Lara, every gesture rehearsed like a line in a play she knew all too well.

"Princess Ceres will be celebrating her eighteenth birthday next week!" Amelia announced, her eyes gleaming. "Wouldn’t it be lovely if we perform a dance for her?"

Lara’s face tightened. She hesitated, the idea clearly unappealing. "You and Mira can perform," she said, her voice cool. "I’ll just teach you."

Amelia’s smile faltered. She had imagined the three of them dancing together, a vision of harmony and elegance. But as she pondered it, she began to rationalize—perhaps it was for the best. If Lara performed with them, she might easily steal all the attention with her effortless poise.

Determined not to let disappointment dampen her mood, Amelia threw herself into the lesson. Lara demonstrated the foundational steps with precise movements and serene control, her posture perfect, her rhythm impeccable. After several rounds of practice, Amelia and Mira began to find their footing.

Then came the final step—a demanding spin that required balance, finesse, and control. Lara moved onto the center floor, lifted onto the ball of one foot, and turned with a fluid grace that made it look effortless.

As she twirled, Mira’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. A glint of calculation sparked within them. She shifted subtly, stepping closer under the guise of following Lara’s motion. Then, feigning a misstep, she leaned in and intentionally collided with Lara, hoping to throw her off balance.

But it backfired.

Lara held firm, her weight expertly centered. Mira, on the other hand, lost her footing and landed unceremoniously on her backside with a dull thud. freewebnσvel.cѳm

"You—!" Mira exclaimed, wincing as pain shot up her spine.

Lara arched an eyebrow, unbothered. "I hope you’ve learned your lesson, Mira. When turning, your direction should be opposite to your partner’s. That way, you won’t end up colliding... or falling."

Amelia, startled but ever kind, extended her hand to Mira and helped her up.

"I understand, Sis," Mira muttered, brushing herself off, her cheeks flushed more from embarrassment than the fall.

Lara clapped her hands once, lightly. "It’s time to rest, ladies. Unless you’d like to continue practicing on your own."

The afternoon sun filtered through the manor’s tall windows, casting golden light on the floor as the girls caught their breath—each harboring thoughts they didn’t say aloud.

...

At last, the day of Princess Ceres’s birthday celebration arrived. That afternoon, the palace’s grand ballroom had been transformed into a realm of splendor—vaulted ceilings adorned with floating lanterns that shimmered like stars, garlands of colorful flowers spiraling around columns, and floors polished to a mirror sheen that reflected the glow of countless candles.

Yet the day before, Ceres had locked herself in her chamber, her mood as stormy as the northern seas. She had begged, pleaded, and even wept to her mother, the queen—hoping that royal authority could bend fate to her will. She had refused meals, thrown a silk slipper at a maid, and collapsed dramatically on her chaise lounge. But even the king could not persuade Prince Alaric to be her partner on her birthday.

"I already had a partner." Prince Alaric said nonchalantly. "Why not Alderan?"

His suggestion felt like salt on an open wound. Alderan? He was kind, yes, but hardly the dashing figure she had imagined at her side. Alaric—brave, maddening Alaric—had always held a part of her heart, though she never dared to confess to him.

Now, the hour had come. The guests were assembled, their silks rustling like flower petals, their faces turned toward the grand staircase in expectation.

Amelia clung possessively to Gideon’s arm, casting sidelong glances that suggested more than mere affection. Mira had arrived with Bener, radiant and laughing.

And Lara, cool and graceful, stood beside Alaric, who seemed unaware of the many gazes drawn to him like moths to flame.

At the top of the staircase, Princess Ceres stood alone. Regal and radiant, she wore a gown of blush pink, silver threads cascading like moonbeams down her form. Her black hair was braided with sapphires and pearls, a circlet of frost-blue roses nestled in her crown.

"Princess," whispered her lady-in-waiting, gently adjusting the train of her gown. "You look... like a goddess who has descended from heaven."

Conversation faltered as Ceres stepped onto the marble staircase, descending with quiet grace and elegance. Heads turned. The entire room seemed to inhale as one. She met with the king and queen at the bottom of the stairs before her parents led her to the elevated platform at the other end of the ballroom, and they walked on the red carpet toward the platform.

Ceres came to an abrupt halt, her gaze narrowing as she spotted Alaric and Lara standing by the aisle, their eyes fixated on eache other with an unsettling intensity. A low, irritated curse slipped from her lips, a bitter whisper that hung in the air like a dark cloud. Turning her head slightly, she shot Lara a venomous glare, her expression a storm of disdain and resentment.

Lara beamed at her with a warm, infectious smile that lit up her entire face, eyes sparkling. She leaned in slightly, her lips forming the words "Happy Birthday, Princess," as if sharing a precious secret meant just for her.

Ceres glared at her. Was she doing that on purpose? But when her gaze landed on Alaric, her eyes turned gentle.

Lara’s brows arched. She reached out and held Alaric’s hand. Ceres almost stumbled.

Soft music started to fill the ballroom, where crystal chandeliers refracted light into a thousand dancing rainbows. Servants moved like ghosts among the guests, bearing trays of wine, fruit juices, and pastries.

Ceres glared at Lara one more time. Then she schooled her expression and plastered a smile on her face.

It was her moment, and it should be perfect. She was not the girl whose heart had been bruised the day before. She was the favored princess, pride and poise. She was beauty and elegance. And she would make them all remember.

Especially him.