(Part 2)
The Waltz Begins
As Kaelrin extended his hand, silence briefly swept through the surrounding nobles. The young duke, feared and respected in equal measure, rarely danced at such gatherings. To see him approach Lady Lyra—his childhood friend whose presence had been far too quiet in recent years—was enough to spark whispers.
"Did you see that?" murmured one lady, her jeweled fan fluttering.
"The Duke never chooses a partner… Why her?"
"Perhaps… there's a history we don't know."
But Lyra ignored the whispers. Her heart hammered as she placed her hand gently into his. His grip was firm, steady—so unlike the trembling boy who had once feared being left behind.
The orchestra swelled. Kaelrin led her gracefully to the center of the marble floor, and as the violins soared, their dance began.
Every step was precise, every movement controlled. Yet beneath the flawless performance lay an undercurrent of tension, like two rivers meeting after years apart—familiar, yet changed.
Lyra looked up at him, her silver eyes searching. "It's been long, hasn't it, Kaelrin?"
He didn't falter in his steps. "Five years. Perhaps longer."
Her smile was wistful. "And yet… you still remember the rhythm."
For the briefest moment, his lips curved into something that might have been a smile. "Some things are not forgotten, Lyra."
---
The Dance of Memories
As they twirled, fragments of the past returned unbidden.
The garden under twilight.
The laughter echoing by the oak tree.
The promises whispered under starlight.
Each step mirrored a memory—his steady lead, her graceful following. Once, they had raced along muddy paths. Now, they moved in polished synchrony, a waltz that spoke of years unspoken.
"You've changed," Lyra whispered when they drew close in a turn.
"And you…" Kaelrin's gaze softened as he spun her outward, then drew her back. "…you've stayed the same."
She caught her breath. "Is that a compliment?"
"It is… truth."
The music carried them higher, faster, until the world blurred. For a moment, it was not nobles watching, not duty or reputation—it was simply two children beneath an oak tree, finding solace in each other's presence.
---
The Gossiping Shadows
Around them, nobles whispered.
"Look how closely they dance."
"The Duke… smiling? Impossible!"
"Perhaps Lady Lyra holds more influence than we thought."
The King's advisors exchanged knowing glances. The Queen, seated at her dais, observed silently, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
Yet Lyra heard none of it. Her world had shrunk to the warmth of Kaelrin's hand on hers, the weight of his gaze lingering whenever their eyes met.
---
The Unspoken Words
As the final notes of the waltz faded, Kaelrin slowed their steps until they came to a gentle halt. The applause of the court washed over them, meaningless compared to the silence between their hearts.
Still holding her hand, Kaelrin leaned just enough for only her to hear. His voice was low, guarded, yet vulnerable:
"Lyra… do you still keep promises made beneath stars?"
Her eyes widened. The world seemed to stop. He remembered.
Her voice trembled, but she managed a small smile. "Always."
His grip tightened ever so slightly—an anchor in the sea of faces around them. But before more could be said, duty shattered the moment.
A noble approached, bowing deeply. "Your Grace, the Chancellor requests a word."
Kaelrin released her hand slowly, reluctantly. His mask of composure returned as he turned away. But just before he walked off, he glanced back.
And in that fleeting look, Lyra saw the boy from the oak tree again—the one who had once feared being left alone.
---
Later That Night – The Balcony
The ballroom festivities carried on, laughter and music echoing. But Lyra slipped away, seeking the quiet of the moonlit balcony. The cool night air brushed against her skin as she leaned on the railing, staring at the stars.
"Do you still keep promises made beneath stars?" His words replayed endlessly in her mind.
"Of course I do, Kaelrin…" she whispered to the wind. "But do you?"
Unbeknownst to her, Kaelrin stood in the shadows just beyond the archway, watching her with unreadable eyes. His heart ached with words left unsaid, chains of duty binding his tongue.
And though he turned away without speaking, a single thought lingered in his mind—one he dared not confess aloud:
If promises truly endure, then perhaps… we are not as lost as I feared.
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Chapter End – To Be Continued