The next day, May was under her blanket, crying as though the world had ended in the night.
Between sobs she asked the pillow whether it was really so hard for him to take her side. Once. One single time. She was supposed to be his fiancée, and yet the word felt like nothing more than something he said when it was convenient to say it.
Angry and raw, she began to wonder whether male leads in romance fantasy worlds were under some legal obligation to listen exclusively to female leads.
Then she asked the universe directly why she had to be an extra.
At this point she would honestly have preferred to be the villainess. She met the requirements. Favouritism in the family — check. Torment from a sibling — check. Persecution by the world at large — check. A sharp brain — modestly, check. She had the full package.
Then she looked in the mirror and understood the real problem.
Her face.
That thought alone felt like total defeat.
May threw a few punches at the air, like a woman practising a martial art she had never studied, and cursed the entire romance fantasy world out loud. If she had been a regressed villainess, she would have settled things with the fake April using her fists a month ago, and everyone would have called it iconic.
And then it hit her.
She stopped mid-punch, arm still up, and understood — finally — why Olivia Cruz had rejected her.
May straightened her back, wiped her face, and walked out of her room.
She knew how to bring Olivia and the Jasmine Club onto her side.
"Daisy." She caught her maid at the door. "Go down to the kitchens. I need cakes and refreshments for twenty people, ready within two hours. I'm inviting the ladies of the Jasmine Club to the palace."
Then she turned to the servant beside her.
"Philip. It's your job to make sure every single lady from that club attends."
Philip nearly went down on the spot. "My lady — I can't possibly be trusted with something so important—"
"Don't worry." May smiled. "All you have to do is say one phrase."
She leaned in close to the two of them and whispered what they were to say if any lady hesitated.
Nobody else heard the words. Whatever they were, Daisy and Philip went the colour of paper, and left at a speed that suggested the message was quite capable of causing a panic all by itself.
Exactly as May had predicted, every last member of the Jasmine Club came.
She received them with a polite smile — the kind that looks perfectly serene while working desperately hard underneath — and waited until everyone had settled with a cup in front of her.
Then she got to the point.
The empire had just been through an enormous purge, she said. Corrupt nobles had been swept out by the dozen. But the seats those men had occupied were still empty.
And her plan was very simple. She wanted those positions filled by the most capable people in the empire — who, conveniently, were sitting in front of her at this table.
Olivia did not bother to sugarcoat her reply.
"The Jasmine Club has no intention of boarding the same ship as you. Not now. Not ever."
May did not look remotely bothered. "You'll all agree in the end. Because I intend to make the deepest wish of every woman in this room come true." She lifted her cup. "And there's no point pretending we don't know why you came. You all heard the message."
And that was when the truth came out.
The phrase May had whispered to Philip and Daisy was short and terrifying.
There is a small gift for those who attend the tea party. If you accept the invitation, the person you fear most will be killed for you.
Olivia smirked. "Your imagination is impressive."
"Is it?"
"Every woman here is a noblewoman. I am the eldest daughter of the Bower family, a house older than the empire itself. My late husband was a marquess of equal standing. Countess Bole owns mines producing magic stones worth more than diamonds. Lady Bell's father controls the Arban Merchant Guild." She set her cup down. "These are not women some thug off the street would dare to touch. So tell me. Who, exactly, would dare to threaten the Jasmine Club?"
May began to list examples, calmly, one after another.
Parents who abuse their own children.
Younger sisters plotting to kill their older sisters.
Husbands with dangerous jealousy problems.
Elder brothers draining their younger sisters' fortunes to cover gambling debts.
"It's only basic etiquette," May said, smiling, "for a cultured lady to look into these things."
The room had gone quiet, but not convinced. Chairs shifted. Two of the ladies began to rise, ready to be finished with this.
"I don't understand," May said, "why you insist on taking the longest and most painful road, when a safer one is standing right in front of you."
Olivia's answer was cold. "Because there is no trust between the Jasmine Club and you. You have no proven achievements. Our reputations are already ruined. And none of us understand why you are so obsessed with recruiting us in particular."
May answered without hesitating.
"I know that a great many accomplishments credited to other people were meant to belong to the women in this room," she said. "And I know how your families treated you."
Judging from the way the room reacted — the stillness, the eyes that dropped, the hand that closed on a saucer — she was right.
In other words, her assumption held.
Villainesses do not move for praise. They do not move for sweet words, however sparkling. What they want, underneath all of it, is protection.
"So let me be clear," May said. "This was never about reputation. What matters to me is a person's true nature." She looked at Olivia. "I told you before. I can see the warmth in your hearts. And right now, I am the only person in this empire willing to say so out loud."
That landed harder than any flattery ever could.
The tea party ended with May smiling as though everything had gone precisely to plan.
The moment the last skirt swept out of the door, her energy went to nothing at all. She dropped onto the nearest couch and lay there, thoroughly drained.
Which, naturally, was when Reheim arrived.
May jolted upright in shock. She got to her feet, took a step toward him — and the room slid sideways.
Her legs gave out. She went down onto the floor.
Confused, she looked up, and saw the maid standing beside her, smiling far too calmly for a woman whose mistress had just collapsed.
That was when it clicked.
She had been poisoned.
The maid bent down as though to help her up, and leaned in close to her ear.
"April asked me to give you a message. You really shouldn't go around stealing another person's male lead like that."
So in the end, it had been her fake sister all along.