The Transmigrator's Mistake
On Alaric's wedding day, I brought a gift to the wedding feast. I had barely taken my seat when someone swung straight at my face.
Alaric's bride, a transmigrator who called herself an expert in noble-household intrigue, glared at me in her wedding gown. "So you're the prince's former betrothed? How does a defeated rival still have the nerve to show up at the wedding feast? Have you no shame?"
A palace maid caught her hand before the slap landed, and I studied her with a dark expression.
Before I could speak, Lydia of House Leicester mocked me again. "What? Are you going to say you only came to offer your blessings? I grew up watching period dramas. Don't think I don't know what filthy thoughts a medieval woman like you is hiding.
"You came here pretending to congratulate us while planning to ruin the wedding feast and make the prince change his mind, didn't you? Too bad Alaric promised me that I would be his only wife for life. Even if you were to strip naked and stand in front of him, he wouldn't touch you!"
Then she raised her brow at the women behind her. The noblewomen and ladies who were friendly with her surrounded me, scorn on their faces. Then they reached out to slap me.
"Exactly, you wench! How dare you provoke Princess Lydia? We'll make you pay for it today!"
The courtyard fell into chaos. Insults and jeers came one after another. Just as the women were about to grab my hair, the chief steward Edwin quickly stood in front of me and shouted, "Enough! I would like to see who dares to show disrespect to the Grand Princess of this realm, Her Royal Highness Princess Sophia!"