I'm in Love with the Villainess!

Chapter 327: The Result of Evelina’s Manipulations

The ballroom’s golden light caught the edges of Vivianne’s green dress as she followed Evelina through the crowd, her eyes scanning every face, every shadow, every corner where a dark-haired mage might be hiding.

"He’s not by the windows," she said.

"No."

"Or near the refreshment tables."

"I can see that."

"Then where—"

Evelina stopped walking.

Vivianne nearly collided with her, catching herself at the last moment. "Lady D’Arclight?"

"Look."

Evelina inclined her head toward a shadowed alcove near the far wall, half-hidden behind a marble pillar carved with dancing figures. The light from the chandeliers barely reached it, leaving its depths in a comfortable gloom.

And in that gloom, two figures stood close together.

One was tall, with broad shoulders and fiery hair that caught the faint light.

The other was smaller, slimmer, with hair the color of ash.

Kevin and Phoenix.

Vivianne’s breath caught.

Evelina’s lips curved.

"Interesting," she murmured.

The two men hadn’t noticed them yet. They were too absorbed in their conversation, or whatever it was, standing close enough that their shoulders almost touched, close enough that Phoenix’s hand rested on Kevin’s arm.

"Lady D’Arclight—"

"Shh."

Evelina held up a hand, and Vivianne fell silent, though her fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress. Her face had gone pale beneath the makeup, her green eyes fixed on the alcove.

"They’re just talking," she whispered.

"Are they?"

"I can’t hear what they’re saying."

"Neither can I." Evelina’s smile widened, just slightly. "That’s what makes it interesting."

Phoenix’s head turned, and for a moment, his gaze seemed to drift toward them. But Kevin said something, and Phoenix looked back at him, his expression shifting into something that might have been frustration or might have been something else entirely.

"We should go," Vivianne said.

"Go where?"

"Anywhere. The dance floor, or the terrace, as long as it’s away from—"

Her voice caught as Kevin laughed.

She had heard Kevin laugh before, of course. Quiet chuckles, dry amusement, the occasional surprised snort when someone said something particularly absurd. But this laugh was different.

It was lighter, freer, even.

The kind of laugh someone gave when they were perfectly comfortable.

Vivianne turned away.

"I need some fresh air," she said, and walked toward the terrace doors before Evelina could respond.

Evelina watched her go, her expression unreadable.

Then she glanced back at the alcove.

Phoenix’s hand had fallen from Kevin’s arm, and they stood a step apart now, their conversation apparently finished. Kevin’s expression had settled back into its usual careful neutrality, while Phoenix’s gaze lingered on the terrace doors.

On the flash of green that had just disappeared through them.

"Poor girl," Evelina murmured, though there was no pity in her voice.

A servant passed with a tray of champagne. She took a glass and sipped it slowly, watching the currents of the ballroom shift and flow around her.

Cael would find her eventually.

He always did.

***

The terrace was colder than Vivianne had expected.

She wrapped her arms around herself and walked to the stone railing, looking out at the palace gardens below. Torches lined the paths, their flames steady despite the evening breeze, illuminating hedges shaped like mythical beasts and fountains that danced in time with distant music.

The door opened behind her.

She didn’t turn.

"I’m fine, Lady D’Arclight. I just needed—"

"It’s not Lady D’Arclight."

Vivianne’s shoulders stiffened.

Phoenix walked to the railing beside her, close enough to talk, far enough to be polite. He had traded his usual coat for something finer, deep blue silk that caught the torchlight, but he still wore his boots instead of dress shoes.

The one rebellious detail he refused to surrender.

"You looked like you needed air," he said.

"I needed to get away from the noise."

"Liar."

She glanced at him. His expression was open, warm, the kind of face that made people trust him even when they shouldn’t. She did trust him. That was the problem.

"You were with Kevin," she said. "In the alcove. You were standing very close."

Phoenix’s brow furrowed. "We were talking."

"About what?"

"About..." He hesitated, then exhaled. "About you, actually. He’s worried about you. You’ve been distant lately."

Vivianne’s fingers traced the stone railing. "I’ve been preparing for the ball."

"For weeks?"

She didn’t answer.

Phoenix leaned against the railing, his profile lit by the torches below. "Vivianne, I’m not going to pretend I don’t know why you’re upset."

"Then why were you standing so close to him?"

The question came out sharper than she intended.

Phoenix turned to face her fully.

"Because I was trying to be a good friend. To both of you." He paused. "And because I thought if I could get him to talk about you, maybe I’d figure out how to tell you something myself."

Vivianne’s breath caught.

"Tell me what?"

Phoenix held her gaze. There was no guile in it, no calculation. Just the same earnest warmth he’d always had, the same easy confidence that had made her seek him out in the first place, back when Kevin was still a stranger and the world felt simpler.

"That I’ve been wanting to ask you to dance for the past hour," he said. "But every time I work up the courage, you disappear."

"I haven’t been—"

"You have." He smiled, self-deprecating, almost shy. "It’s fine. I get it. You came here with someone else in mind."

Vivianne’s throat tightened.

"Phoenix—"

"You don’t have to explain." He pushed off from the railing and stepped back, giving her space. "I just wanted you to know. So there weren’t any... misunderstandings."

She thought of Kevin in the alcove. Of his hand on Phoenix’s arm. Of the way he’d laughed, light and unguarded, the way he never laughed with her anymore, after she started to get more self-conscious around him over the months.

"Kevin thinks you’re a good friend," she said.

"I am a good friend." Phoenix’s smile turned rueful. "That’s the problem, isn’t it? I’m always the good friend."

He walked toward the terrace door, then paused with his hand on the handle.

"For what it’s worth," he said without turning, "he was asking me how to fix things with you. What he could do to make you smile again. He looked pretty miserable about it."

The door opened.

"Phoenix."

He glanced back.

Vivianne stood at the railing, her green dress bright against the stone, her expression caught somewhere between gratitude and regret.

"Thank you," she said. "For being honest."

He inclined his head. "Try to enjoy the rest of the ball, both of you. And... if the night doesn’t go well between you two, you can always come to... never mind."

The door closed behind him, leaving Vivianne alone with the torches and the fountains and the distant music that played on, oblivious.