Return of the General's Daughter-Chapter 280: The Schemes Backfired

Mira reentered the ballroom, the flickering chandeliers casting golden light across her path. Her eyes swept the crowd until they landed on Lara, now standing apart from Prince Alaric and chatting with a small group of noble ladies. Laughter rippled through the circle as Lara spoke, her posture poised, her smile effortless. The elegance in her bearing had not dulled with time—if anything, it had sharpened.

Something twisted in Mira’s chest.

Those same ladies had once clung to her every word when Lara was absent. Now, with her sister back, the attention that had been Mira’s was slipping through her fingers. She schooled her expression into something pleasant and glided toward the group, her smile as polished as the pearls at her neck.

"Mira, where have you been?" one of the ladies asked with a coy tilt of her head, twirling her wine glass between her fingers like it was part of a game. "Lara said we should go to you and Amelia if we want to learn the new dance. She said you’ve already been taught and are performing tonight. Is that true? Why didn’t you tell us?" Her tone bordered on reproach, though her words remained sweet.

"Yes, Mira," chimed in Janna, Amelia’s cousin and Mira’s close friend. "We could have joined you. Why didn’t you include us when Lara was teaching you?"

"I just stepped out for some air," Mira replied lightly, though a tightness had crept into her shoulders. The ladies’ gazes weren’t just curious—they were accusing. "Please don’t act as if you’ve been wronged. There’s still time, and Lara’s always willing to help."

Her voice—low, melodic, and compelling—soothed the edges of their indignation.

"I didn’t have the chance to call you. My sister could only spare a few hours that Saturday. She’s been terribly busy," Mira added gently, her tone warm yet calculated.

The subtle redirection worked. Now the blame shifted—however slightly—toward Lara.

Across the circle, Lara glanced at her, her smile dimming. For a beat, her eyes lingered on Mira—thoughtful, unreadable. Mira looked away.

A passing waiter offered a tray of wine, and the women each accepted a glass, their conversation shifting to safer ground. But not for long.

"Lara, why are you holding your wineglass like that?" Janna blurted, her voice loud and laced with disbelief. Her exclamation cut through the hum of the ballroom, drawing curious looks from nearby guests. A few even stepped closer, sensing the thrill of the spectacle.

During Mira’s birthday, Lara only stayed for a short while, so they saw her drink the wine. When the crown prince had his banquet, Lara was with Alaric most of the time, and then she disappeared.

Lara raised her eyebrows and examined the way she held the glass. Then her gaze shifted to their wine glasses. They were gripping the stem between their thumbs, index fingers, and middle fingers, allowing the rest of their other fingers to rest comfortably on the base, which was the most common way of holding the wine glass.

"Janna," Mira interjected smoothly, her smile returning. "Lara spent two years in the mountains. When she disappeared, she was still too young to drink at functions. She’ll learn—give her time."

Unfazed, Lara turned her glass slowly, letting the wine swirl with ease. Her grip was deliberate, not careless.

At the far end of the hall, Alaric and Lara’s brothers—who had been watching from afar—tensed, ready to intervene. But then Lara spoke, her voice soft and clear.

"I like to swirl the wine," she said, lifting her glass with grace. "This way feels more natural to me. Just as there’s more than one way to skin a cat, there’s more than one way to hold a wineglass."

She looked directly at Janna. "Do you know why you hold yours by the stem?"

"I..." Janna faltered. Her parents had taught her the etiquette—but never the reason.

Silence rippled across the circle.

Mira and the other ladies were also at a loss for what to say.

"To avoid warming the wine with your hand," Lara explained, her tone neither smug nor scolding. "The heat can alter the flavor—especially for white wine. And fingerprints on the bowl obscure the wine’s clarity and aroma."

"Ah, I never thought that there is a reason for that. I thought it is simply because that’s the etiquette." A middle-aged woman said, looking at Lara with admiration. "It makes sense."

Janna’s cheeks flushed. Mira looked down, embarrassed. Their attempt to expose Lara’s ignorance had backfired spectacularly. In the end, it was their own that had been laid bare.

From across the hall, Gideon entered with Amelia. He had heard everything.

He leaned toward her, barely containing his frustration. "Shouldn’t you be with my sister?"

"But, I am here to accompany you." Amelia protested.

He sighed, his voice taut. "Lara’s been gone for over two years. She’s missed things. You’re supposed to support her, not leave her to fend for herself."

"But—"

"Remember your place, Amelia." Gideon was truly annoyed. I only accompanied you because my sister told me to take care of you. If you’ll excuse me, I need to greet my male friends." With that, Gideon moved to the right side of the banquet hall, where most of the men were.

Without another glance, Gideon turned and strode toward the group of men at the banquet’s edge. Amelia stood frozen for a moment before forcing her feet to move toward Lara’s group, her expression tight and uncertain.

A chime rang out. The master of ceremonies called for the performances to begin.

Ceres, sitting on a white, lavishly decorated chair, leaned forward. A subtle smile played at the corners of her lips, hinting at the delight and excitement bubbling within her, ready to embrace the unfolding spectacle.

Lara was still beneath her. No matter how good she was, she still needed to perform for her, the princess who was favored by the queen..

Mira and Amelia were summoned first. As they stepped forward, the room quieted.

Lara had insisted on matching ankle-length gowns to prevent tripping during the dance, with colors that would harmonize but not compete. In the end, both women wore peach—a soft, flowing fabric that caught the light with each step.

All eyes turned to them.

Mira smiled, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

She had wanted Lara to look foolish tonight.

Instead, it was she who had been made small.