It had taken her quite some time but Winifred was finally realizing the truly worst part of the dress. It was a total bloody nightmare to dance in, the tight curves making her waddle like some flightless bird. The Count, of course, was enthusiastic about taking her for a spin on the dancefloor and, for the plan’s sake, she’d been forced to agree. She hated dancing with a passion and it was hard to not grimace from the sheer awkwardness of it all, as the Count expertly swirled her to and fro and whispered what he probably thought were sexy comments in her ear.

It didn’t help that she kept catching sight of Zach who was still under the pretense of being a server but every so often, would grin at her smugly while the corseted bodice of the dress choked the life out of her.

Still, their dancing was getting a lot of the other women’s backs up. Their thinly veiled jealousy was clear as Count Kalisz smiled at her, one hand in hers, the other wrapped around her forcibly thinned waist. Winifred supposed the older man was a bit of a heartthrob. Objectively she could see why the others were all aflutter. The Count was tall with broad shoulders and he was impeccably dressed. His jet black hair was starting to gray at the temples but his face was still handsome with its deep blue eyes and his perfect smile with its even white teeth. It was all a bit too obvious for Winifred, like looking at some masterpiece painting. His looks were just a bit too perfect.

He was also incredibly boring. Winifred was pretty sure that if any of the women who were looking daggers at her actually spent time with him, they’d be equally as bored. Unsurprisingly, his talk so far had mostly been about his wealth. He was buying some castle here, owning some livestock there, she was struggling to stay interested in his many boasts. The one good thing about his big-headedness was that he’d confirmed that he was going to be purchasing the Ruby. He’d spent a good ten minutes yammering on that he wasn’t going to be outbid and that, come the end of the evening, the Purene Ruby would be in his possession.

It pissed her off that Zach was right. The Count definitely saw her as some kind of prostitute. He was a handsy guy and he’d already made more than one comment about how they were going to have an enjoyable night. Not evening. Night. The thought made her stomach turn. Just the thought of his sweaty body writhing away on top of her was temptation enough to wring his neck. At least it would make the job easier. It was obvious that she wasn’t going to need to do much in the way of flirting to get into his chambers.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The Master of Ceremonies announced as the music suddenly died. “Please start to make your way towards the auction room, Lord Casey’s auction will be commencing shortly.”

There was a flurry of excitement as two of the servants opened the large white double doors at the Northern end of the ballroom with a flourish. The attendees started to surge forward, chattering away ten to the dozen about the auction and the various lots that were going to be on offer.

“Excellent, excellent,” The Count said, stopping their dance abruptly so that Winifred almost tripped over the stupid hem of her gown. “Let us go and find our seats, my dear,” He continued, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her to his side. She hated the feel of his hot, sweaty grasp. “Wait until you see the theatre, I’m sure Lord Casey won’t let us down!”

Subtly motioning his hand, the Count quickly waved off two of his own bodyguards as they attempted to follow the Count. Dressed in plate mail adorned with the Count’s crest, the two large Orcs had stood to the side of the room and had been watching all the goings-on with stern eyes and hands on their weapons.

Extremely reluctantly, Winifred allowed herself to be led by the waist as they followed the crowd of people who were beginning to spill into the theatre room where the auction was to be held. The whole evening was one big painful reminder of the life she’d left behind. The one she swore she’d never go back to. Perhaps she’d been an idiot for agreeing to this stupid plan of Zach’s. There had to have been better ways to get the damned Ruby than this.

The urge to put her hands around the Count’s neck with its ridiculous frilled shirt and cravat was so bloody tempting. He looked like a weak foppish sort and it was easy to picture what that stupidly handsome face of his would look like as she squeezed the life out of it.

But she had to resist. She was there to play her part, as irritating and idiotic as it was. She fixed a demure smile on her face and dutifully followed the other partygoers.

She’d heard of Lord Casey’s theatre before. Her parents would talk about it frequently, making it sound as though it were some sought-after magical oasis of opulence. In her mind at least, it was a very basic rich-person type of room. Carpeted in plush deep red, white walls with hand-painted songbirds flying up towards the ceiling in spirals. Two rows of theatre boxes facing each other with more elaborate songbirds painted on them with gold railings and high-backed maroon chairs. There was a stage at the opposite end of the room with thick maroon curtains with gold fringing. In front of the stage was row after row of wooden chairs painted gold to match the room’s accents. Automatically, she made for a row of the chairs until the Count’s hand tightened around her waist.

“No, no my dear. I have my own box,” the Count chuckled as though she were just some airheaded society lady.

She could feel her Mana swirling as she fought to keep a lid on her anger. She was a Chosen for god’s sake! She could destroy this whole room in a matter of minutes if she so desired, or at least make a bloody good attempt at it. Zach owed her big for this shit.

Winifred allowed the Count to lead her over to, and then through, a small door. She followed up a few stairs until they reached the Count’s personal box. There were two of the high-backed chairs with a small table in between them. The table was already laid out with an ice bucket containing two bottles of champagne and some sparkling crystal glasses.

At least there was more alcohol, she told herself as she did her best to sit down as daintily as possible. She was going to have to have a Hells of a lot more if she was going to survive this evening without committing some well-deserved murder.