Dragged Into Another World By The Obsessive Villain

The moment they stepped under the pavilion, conversations hushed, and all eyes turned toward her. She could feel the weight of their curiosity pressing down on her, a dozen sharp gazes cutting through her like knives. Lady Colina's smile grew impossibly wider as she gestured toward an empty chair near Lyanna.

"Please, Miss Elara, sit with us," Lady Colina said, her voice honeyed but carrying the unmistakable undertone of this is where we'll teach you your place.

Elara took the offered seat, her movements measured and calm. She wasn't about to let them see even a flicker of discomfort. If this was going to be a battlefield of polite smiles and carefully veiled insults, she'd be damned if she didn't give as good as she got times three.

Lady Olivia settled into the chair beside her, her fan snapping open with a flourish. "I must admit, Miss Elara, you're quite the enigma. An Otherworlder plucked from obscurity to stand beside the Grand Duke himself. Why, Her Majesty was just talking about you."

Queen Lyanna set down her teacup carefully, her smile serene. "Indeed, Lady Olivia. We are quite curious about your world before you came here. In our time, you are the only Otherworlder that exists. The last of your kind died twelve years ago."

Crisseda, who had followed behind Elara when Lady Olivia had carried her off, came up behind Elara and poured her a cup of tea before she stepped back to join the other servants huddled up at the far edge of the pavilion. 

Elara wrapped her fingers around the delicate porcelain teacup, the warmth of the tea seeping into her skin and grounding her. Queen Lyanna's words, though seemingly harmless, were both an invitation and a trap. What she was seeking was information on Elara, information she couldn't get anywhere else in this world. Every noblewoman under the pavilion leaned in slightly, their ears practically twitching with eagerness to catch her response.

"Well, your Majesty," Elara began, her voice calm and measured, "my world is… quite different. In my country, there are no noble houses or kings and queens like here in Isyndor. Instead, we have leaders chosen by the people, and rather than swords and magic, most conflicts are resolved with words or… other innovations."

She let that hang in the air, knowing she wasn't about to explain the intricacies of nuclear deterrence to an audience that probably wouldn't be able to wrap their head around the concept of steam engines.

"How fascinating," Queen Lyanna said, her tone light. "No magic, you say? That must have been quite the adjustment for you, coming to a place like ours. One might think a world without magic would breed… simpler minds."

A ripple of polite laughter spread through the pavilion, but Elara didn't flinch. She met Lyanna's gaze head-on, her lips curving into a small, unbothered smile. "You're not wrong, your Majesty. Magic does make life easier in many ways, but I find that the simplicity of life without magic often requires one to rely on their wits. When the world doesn't hand you solutions, you learn to create them."

Lady Colina leaned forward slightly. "And yet, despite such reliance on your wits, you needed His Grace to save you from a group of goblins. One might think your world's… innovations would have prepared you better."

Elara took a measured sip of her tea, giving herself a moment to temper her reply. "True," she said finally, setting her cup down with deliberate care. "I was unprepared for goblins, but to be fair, we don't have such creatures in my world. Adaptation takes time. Fortunately, I've had the best teachers in His Grace and Chancellor Kyran. I'm sure you understand how vital proper guidance is, Lady Colina. When I was young, my teacher used to always say, 'a student is only as talented as their teacher,' after all."

Lady Olivia's fan snapped shut with an audible snap. "A sharp tongue, Miss Elara. How refreshing."

"Not sharp," Elara countered with a soft laugh, "just honest."

Queen Lyanna regarded her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, to Elara's surprise, the queen's lips curved into a genuine, albeit small, smile. "Honesty is a rare quality, particularly in this court. You may find it both a blessing and a curse, Miss Elara."

"I'll consider that, your Majesty," Elara replied, dipping her head slightly in acknowledgment.

The conversation shifted after that, moving on to trivial matters—upcoming balls, the latest fashion trends, and whispered gossip about who might win the hunt. Elara participated sparingly, offering polite commentary when necessary but otherwise observing the subtle dynamics of the group. It was clear the queen had used Lady Olivia and Lady Colina to provoke her, but with the mood shifting to light gossip, even they couldn't bring the topic back to humiliating Elara.

The conversation had stalled to something incredibly calm now, but Elara wasn't foolish. In The Day of Eternal Night, Queen Lyanna is a master of controlling a conversation, her ability to redirect and manipulate topics is unparalleled. Actually, it was one of the traits Elara admired about her, that easy way of bending anything to her will. Sure enough, Lyanna soon set her teacup down again with a soft clink, her smile as polished as the silver serving trays.

Marchioness Whitepine had been going on and on about Elardwyn eyeing Isyndor's borders and how her husband, Marquees Whitepine, might be sent away to the borders to fight in the war should it start up again. She had been quite beside herself the whole time, practically doing all she could to keep her tears at bay, and the noble ladies next to her were doing their utmost to comfort her.

"You needn't worry about such things, Marchioness," Queen Lyanna murmured silkily, her lips curved into a smile conveying the utmost sympathy and assurance. "There's absolutely no reason for another war with Elardwyn to start, not when our Grand Duke fended them all off." Her eyes shifted over to Elara. "His Grace's efforts were nothing short of legendary, wouldn't you agree, Miss Elara?" Elara wasn't sure if she was imagining it or not, but Lyanna's smile seemed to be taking on a serpentine nature. "It's rare to meet a man so capable of achieving peace through strength alone. How amazing he is even when he's accused of coveting the throne and all of the king's possessions, he does not shrink from the assumption of him being terrifying. I cannot help but be impressed by him, do you not agree?"

The pavilion went silent again, save for the soft rustling of silk skirts and the clink of teacups being set down. The noblewomen's attention snapped back to Elara, their eyes alight as they awaited her answer on bated breath.

Here it was. The part where Lyanna Orinthal begins planting the idea that Caspian's power was not only formidable but potentially dangerous. If nurtured, such an idea could grow into whispers, then rumors, then public doubt—the foundation of Caspian's fall in the original story.

But she was ready.

"Intimidating?" Elara repeated with a soft laugh, tilting her head in thoughtfulness. "I wouldn't say so, your Majesty. I think His Grace's strength brings comfort, not fear. When you ride through the streets of Chirondale and all the neighboring villages and towns, there's so much peace. There's not a soul among the people who live in Chirondale who fear Caspian, even if they find him a bit hard to talk to. If anything, I'd say the Grand Duke is a source of strength for the people of Isyndor, someone they can believe will protect them in uncertain times."

Lady Forenza Whittle, Lyanna's right-hand woman in the novels and wife of Duke Whittle, arched a brow as she leaned forward, her fan fluttering lazily. "True, but strength unchecked can become… problematic, can't it? It's why the king's guidance is so valuable to us all. Power left unchecked might have one mistakenly believing they should be king, that they are more worthy of such a title."

"Oh, absolutely," Elara replied, her tone light as the scent of the tea in her cup. "I believe the Grand Duke feels the same, after all, His Grace has always worked closely with His Majesty. Their partnership ensures that strength is wielded wisely. It's quite inspiring, really—an example of leadership through mutual respect and shared vision."

A ripple of polite agreement swept through the pavilion, though the more astute among the noblewomen exchanged quick glances, silently acknowledging the subtle verbal tug-of-war playing out before them.

Lyanna's smile never fell, and Elara wondered, idly, if it hurt keeping it like that. "A well-practiced answer, Miss Elara. You speak as though you've had much experience observing leadership dynamics."

Elara returned her smile, letting just the right amount of self-deprecation soften her words. "Not so much experience as curiosity, your Majesty. In my world, we often study what makes leaders great—what earns them the trust of their people. I think those lessons can be used anywhere, even in a whole other world."

"How fascinating," Lady Olivia murmured. "Though I suppose such revolutionary thoughts must come easily when one's position is… earned so uniquely. Wouldn't you agree, Miss Elara?"

The implication hung in the air: You didn't earn your place—you were handed it by chance.

But Elara only smiled back at her, taking small pleasure in the slight crease in her forehead—the only proof of Lady Olivia's annoyance. "I don't disagree. It's good fortune that someone like myself can make a home for myself here because of the fact the Grand Duke values all the boring things I've learned in my world."

Lady Olivia seemed to be struggling to keep her smile in place. "You have such a way with words, Miss Elara." And the edges of her voice were much sharper than the usual candied sweetness she typically covered her malice with.

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When afternoon bled to evening, the calls of squires announcing the return of those participating in the hunt and the thundering of hooves broke through the conversations of thinly veiled insults and barbed compliments. The ladies under the pavilion stood, their attention drawn to the riders and the wagons laden with their kills.

Caspian rode at the front of the party, his dark hunting attire streaked with dirt and sweat, but his posture remained effortlessly regal. His pale hair caught the light, gleaming like polished silver in the saturated evening sun.

She couldn't help how her heart thumped unevenly at the sight of him. And guessing by the way even the haughtiest of the noble ladies hid her blush behind her fan, she wasn't the only one who felt that way.

She quickly schooled her features into something neutral. Caspian was dismounting with practiced ease.

"His Grace never disappoints," Lady Colina murmured, her voice low but loud enough to carry. "He does seem to thrive in competition, doesn't he?"

"Some might say he thrives a little too much," Lady Forenza added, her tone pointed.

Elara kept her expression calm, though she wanted to roll her eyes. The digs at Caspian's ambition were growing tiresome, but she reminded herself to pick her battles. She'd said enough today to ensure no terrible rumors about Caspian would start. At least not without good rebuttals that would drive such rumors to obscurity.

The hunting party began unloading their catches, and even Elara had to admit the sheer scale of Caspian's haul was impressive. His wagon overflowed with deer, wild boar, and game birds, each one larger and more pristine than the last. Around him, other nobles' wagons looked almost meager in comparison. The only comparison for his overflowing bounty was a wagon belonging to a commoner hunter who was being wiped at and fussed over by his very pregnant wife.

After the kills were tallied and inspected by stewards, a herald stepped forward to announce the day's results. He carried a scroll in one hand, his other holding the ceremonial trumpet that had signaled the hunt's start. The murmurs under the pavilion died down as he unrolled the parchment, his voice ringing out over the crowd.

"On this first day of Valtren's Bounty Hunt, the participant with the highest tally is none other than His Grace, Grand Duke Caspian of Chirondale!"