Princess Veronica von Aethelgard.
One of the many "hurdles" in the love story between the heroine and the Duke.
Her feelings for him eventually became obvious to readers of A Golden Crown for My Beloved, but her manipulative nature? That had been one of the most unexpected plot twists in the entire story. No one saw it coming.
In the novel, Veronica had been described as the perfect imperial princess. Beautiful, elegant, and refined- the kind of woman who could captivate any man in the empire.
Any man, except for Nikolai.
She was written as the very embodiment of temptation, a seductress who could charm nobles, scholars, and knights alike with a single smile. A woman so dazzling that even her smallest gestures carried the weight of royal grace.
But beneath that flawless reputation lay something far more dangerous.
Veronica was calculating. Patient. Two-faced.
Despite the whispers that she was "scary" or a "bully," she still had a devoted following among the empire's citizens. Many insisted that the Empire's beloved princess was actually kind and misunderstood.
A gentle angel forced to maintain a cold image.
Clara almost snorted.
Angel my ass.
Right now, Princess Veronica von Aethelgard is the single biggest threat to my survival!
******
The Valeria family had arrived in the capital two days ago. The Baron personally accompanied Lea for her admission to the Academy before leaving for their territory.
After that, Clara and Lea set off to find a cheap inn where they could stay until Clara moved into her new dorm.
Well… assuming she passed the tutor exam.
If she became the Princess's official tutor, a high-class residence inside the Imperial Palace would be provided for her.
For now, the sisters simply enjoyed their time together, wandering through the bustling streets of the capital, sampling street food and gawking at shops far too expensive for them.
Then the qualification exam day arrived.
Standing before the gilded gates of the Imperial Palace, the crumpled recruitment notice in Clara´s hand felt less like an opportunity and more like a warrant for her own arrest.
She took a deep breath that smelled of expensive roses and political doom.
Librarian Mode: Activated. Calm. Collected. Master of information. You've handled crying toddlers, angry historians, and a database crash during finals week. A teenaged princess with an attitude problem? Please. I have a weapon she can't touch: patience.
She followed the cluster of nervous-looking nobles through the massive arches, into a courtyard large enough to host a dragon race. The place screamed wealth and "we can afford to kill you."
The examination hall was a cavernous room filled with rows of desks, already buzzing with the anxious whispers of fifty other applicants. Most were middle-aged women with graying hair and a distinct air of intellectual superiority. Clara was easily the youngest, which earned her a few condescending sneers.
There were also young noblemen present, the type who had likely seen the Princess once at a banquet and immediately convinced themselves it was love at first sight. Clearly, some of them had come not for the job… but for proximity to royalty.
Bold strategy, Clara thought. Apply for a brutal imperial exam just to flirt.
When the test began, the pristine hall fell silent.
The first trial was written.
It was a written test that made her previous life's calculus and biochem exam look like a coloring book. History of the Aethelgard Empire, advanced diplomacy, and-weirdly-a ten-page essay on "The Ethics of Consensual Political Marriages."
Still, all those late nights studying whenever she had free time finally paid off.
Clara finished twenty minutes early.
Looking around, she noticed most of the other applicants looked like they were suffering from magical indigestion.
Then it was time for the second test:
Practical Application
Two identical men stepped forward to observe the room. Tall, stern, and dressed in immaculate butler uniforms.
Clara blinked.
Oh. I know them.
The Belmont twins.
Thomas and Terry.
They were mentioned several times in the novel- loyal palace retainers who handled delicate matters for the Imperial family.
Above every desk hovered a miniature, floating storm cloud, crackling with lightning.
Clara froze.
I haven´t learned magic yet! Is this the part where I die because I skipped the tutorial?
Around her, the other applicants were moving. One scholar traced a complex rune in the air, and his cloud dissipated into golden sparks. Another snapped his fingers, and a miniature wind gust blew his storm toward the ceiling.
Okay, okay, logic, Clara calmed herself. If this is magic, it's probably mana-based. Maybe if I... disrupt the flow?
She grabbed her heavy brass inkwell and swung it at the cloud, hoping to "break" the concentration of the spell.
ZAP!
A bolt of static electricity shot through the inkwell, numbing her arm up to the shoulder. Clara let out a very un-noble yelp, the inkwell clattering to the floor and splashing black spots all over her shoes.
She bit her tongue just in time.
One of the Belmont twins was now watching her.
Crap. Great. He probably thinks I'm the most uncultured noble alive.
"I didn't expect someone your age to be interested in becoming a tutor," the butler remarked.
"Well… there isn't an age requirement in the qualifications, is there?" Clara replied, sounding sassier than she intended.
She gestured helplessly toward the floating storm.
"I'd love to discuss it more, but time is ticking. I have five minutes left and I still haven't extinguished this tiny storm."
The butler smiled.
It was not a comforting smile.
Wait… why is this butler smiling like that?
Like he wants me to fail or something?
He stayed beside her, silently observing.
Clara realized she was now the only one left whose storm cloud still floated above the desk.
The cloud only grew darker, pulsing in sync with Clara's rising agitation. It let out a low, menacing rumble of thunder.
I'm failing, she realized, her stomach dropping.
If I mess this up, Lea loses her tuition, and I go back to being a "minor villainess" with a one-way ticket to execution.
She closed her eyes, forcing her hands to stop their frantic flailing. Stop thinking like a mage. You aren't one. Think like a librarian.
What do you do when a computer is glitching? You don't hit it. What do you do when a student is acting out just to get a reaction? You stop giving them the audience.
Clara took a shaky breath, forcing her palms to lay flat against the mahogany desk. She ignored the sharp sting of the previous zap in her arm and the unsightly ink splatters on her shoes. She stopped trying to "fight" the magic with a physical force she simply didn't possess.
"Fine," she whispered to the cloud, her voice trembling but edged with a sudden, steel-like determination. "You want to be a storm? Go ahead. I've sat through eight-hour shifts with a broken AC and a line of angry patrons on a Monday morning. I can sit through you."
Instead of fighting, she chose absolute indifference.
She reached for a spare piece of parchment. With agonizingly slow, deliberate movements, she folded it into a small, sturdy "tent" to shield her exam paper from the moisture.
Then, she simply leaned back. She didn't look at the other mages who were busy chanting and waving their hands. She didn't look at the disguised Princess. She just stared at the cloud with the same weary, "I-deal-with-this-every-day" expression she used to give the library's temperamental, paper-jammed printer.
The cloud hissed. It spat a tiny, hot spark at her hand. Clara didn't even flinch. She just blinked, looked at the red mark on her skin, and then looked back at the mist.
Is that all you've got? she challenged silently. I've had paper cuts more threatening than you.
Slowly, the aggressive crackling began to fade. Without the "fuel" of her panic to feed on, the spell began to lose its edge. The dark gray mist thinned, turning into a soft, harmless white vapor that hovered quietly above the desk-almost like it was pouting because it couldn't get a rise out of her anymore.
Just then, the bell rang.
Time was up.
The butler beside her clasped his hands elegantly.
"Congratulations, everyone," he announced.
"However…"
His smile sharpened slightly.
"Only two of you will be proceeding to the next test."