Transmigrated into a Fantasy World with No Clue What To Do Chapter 46: Chapter 45: The Burden of Every Eye / The Badinage of Silk and Lace

Read chapter 46 of Transmigrated into a Fantasy World with No Clue What To Do by PrincessArylin on NovelPedia.

Chapter 45: The Burden of Every Eye / The Badinage of Silk and Lace The herald’s voice cuts cleanly through the muted noise of the ballroom beyond the doors, his voice easily heard outside as well as in. “Presenting Her Grace, Duchess Ilsa Braemar, His Grace, Duke Alastair Braemar, and Lady Beira Braemar of Lochavria.” Music, conversation, movement, all of it rushes together at once into something bright and overwhelming as the great doors swing inward and the full breadth of the ballroom opens before us. Light spills across polished marble and gilded trim in warm gold. Crystal chandeliers hang overhead in glittering tiers, their light caught and scattered in mirrored panels and silver fixtures until the entire room seems to glow. Silk and satin sweep across the dance floor in waves of color, jewels catching candlelight with every turn of movement. The air is alive with music, conversation, and the soft rhythm of noble performance. As we step through the doors onto the landing at the top of a grand staircase that leads down to the ballroom floor, every eye in the room turns. It is not subtle. The shift is immediate and complete, attention rippling through the gathered nobility in a wave so tangible I can feel it before we have taken more than three steps into the room. For one terrible instant, all I can think is that my mother had not been exaggerating nearly enough when she had told me what to expect. My father offers me his arm and I take it, more grateful for the point of contact than I care to admit, his presence grounding me in the moment. My mother moves at my other side with effortless poise, composed and immaculate in deep sapphire silk, her expression calm in the way only someone entirely prepared for this sort of scrutiny can manage. I do my best to imitate her, but I suspect my act is not entirely convincing. We descend into the ballroom as one, our pace measured, neither hurried nor slow. Every step we take feels deliberate, every breath feels observed. The sea of faces before me blurs at the edges into a wash of color as my vision narrows. The sea is broken only by the occasional face that I recognize, even if I myself have never seen them. The polite attention on these faces makes my stomach tighten and causes bile to rise in the back of my throat. These are future classmates, the daughters of noble houses, girls that I remember in fragments and half-feelings. Girls who had known me before I became someone I had to learn how to be. A few offer polite smiles while one or two look at me with open curiosity as if I were a rare animal on display. Catalina Breegar stands near the edge of the ballroom in a gown as impeccably arranged as the girl wearing it, her two ever-present shadows flanking her like decorative accessories. Her gaze finds me almost immediately, sharp and appraising, sweeping over me from head to toe with the sort of open assessment that would be rude if she were not precisely the sort of girl to make it look elegant. Her smile is flawless. I can practically hear her voice from a few days ago, I look forward to seeing how you… readjust, Lady Beira. I keep walking, one step at a time. If she actually says anything in that moment, I do not hear it. I am not entirely certain I would trust myself to respond if she did. The ballroom opens wider as we descend fully into it, the crush of observation gradually giving way to movement as conversation and dance resumes in careful increments. The music swells again and it is as if the room exhales. Before Catalina can decide whether or not to make good on the promise in her smile, another figure slips neatly into my path. “Lady Beira.” The voice is familiar enough to catch me off guard. Lena Kincaid dips into a graceful curtsey, a warm smile already softening her features before she straightens. She is dressed in pale green tonight, the color setting off her white hair and grey eyes in a way that makes her look elegant rather than severe. Unlike Catalina’s smil