The night had deepened, though the ballroom still shimmered under chandeliers that glowed like captive stars. Music flowed, laughter rang, and the scent of roses lingered in the air. Yet beneath the grandeur and grace, a quiet unease rippled through the palace — the kind only hearts could feel but no lips dared to name.
The final dance began. Couples swayed under the gilded ceiling, their movements as fluid as dreams. Princess Luna stood at the edge of the crowd, her delicate fingers grazing the cool stem of a crystal goblet. Her heart was still caught between the thrill of the evening and the strange pull she felt toward the mysterious man she had met — the one whose jacket she had stained with wine, the one whose silence still echoed in her mind.
Her gaze drifted restlessly over the sea of faces.
Then, like a shadow moving against the light, she saw him again.
He stood near the arched doorway that led into the gardens, half-hidden behind marble pillars. The flicker of torches caught the edge of his silhouette — tall, broad-shouldered, the same calm stillness that had both unsettled and intrigued her. He seemed to be watching the crowd, not part of it.
Without thinking, Luna took a few steps forward.
But just as she reached the center of the ballroom, her half-sister Mary's shrill voice sliced through the music.
"Oh, look at her!" Mary sneered, loud enough for nearby nobles to hear. "Still wandering around alone. No one even asked her for a dance!"
Laughter followed — cruel and forced — from her sister Martha. "Maybe she's looking for a servant to spill wine on again."
A few nobles turned their heads, pretending not to hear, but whispers began to spread like wildfire.
Luna froze, her cheeks flushing crimson. Her hands trembled at her sides. The laughter stabbed deeper than words could. But before she could turn away, the music stopped.
The orchestra fell silent.
A voice — low, steady, and impossibly calm — spoke from the direction of the doorway.
"Mockery ill becomes noble lips."
The crowd fell utterly still. Heads turned. And there he was again — the man she had splashed with wine — stepping out from the shadows.
Gasps rippled through the hall as his boots struck the marble. Though his face was still half-hidden by the fall of his dark hair and the golden mask that covered part of his features, his presence commanded attention like thunder commands the sky.
Mary's smirk vanished. Martha's fan slipped from her fingers.
The stranger stopped before them, his piercing gaze flicking briefly toward the two sisters, then resting on Luna.
For a moment, their eyes met.
It was like touching fire and frost at once — her breath caught, her heart stilled, and something unspoken passed between them, a pull neither could name.
He inclined his head slightly. "Forgive my interruption," he said, his voice deep and smooth as midnight. "But I cannot stand idly by when grace is mocked."
Before anyone could reply, he bowed faintly to Luna, then turned and strode toward the exit. The tall doors opened silently before him, letting in the cool whisper of the night.
Luna wanted to speak — to thank him, to ask his name — but no words came. All she saw was the gleam of his dark hair as he vanished beyond the corridor, swallowed by the moonlit garden.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Queen Hazel quickly approached, laying a protective hand on Luna's arm. "Pay them no mind," she whispered firmly. "The night has shown enough cruelty for one heart."
Luna nodded faintly, still staring at the now-empty doorway. Her pulse drummed softly in her ears. Whoever that man was, his defense had left a mark she could not explain.
---
The ball ended in a shimmer of fading laughter. Guests departed in clusters, their carriages rolling away beneath the silver light of the moon. The palace corridors quieted one by one until only echoes remained — the sigh of silk, the distant clink of goblets, the soft hum of forgotten melodies.
Luna lingered by the balcony, looking out at the garden where the stranger had disappeared. The night breeze brushed her face like a whisper. Who was he? she wondered. Why did his voice feel so familiar…
Her nanny, Madam Elora, found her there. "My dear," she said softly, wrapping a shawl around Luna's shoulders. "The King has retired. It's time to rest. You've had a long evening."
Luna nodded slowly, casting one last glance into the moonlit shadows below. Then, with a heavy sigh, she let herself be led back to her chambers.
---
Morning came with the cry of trumpets.
The palace, once so alive with celebration, now buzzed with tension. Guards hurried through corridors. Servants whispered behind closed doors. Something had changed overnight.
Luna awoke to the sound of footsteps outside her door. When she stepped into the corridor, she found Madam Elora already waiting — her expression grave.
"My princess," Elora murmured, "the King has summoned everyone to the throne hall. A royal messenger arrived at dawn. He bears a sealed letter from the Kingdom of Whisperwood."
Luna's heart skipped. Whisperwood… That name carried weight — a kingdom shrouded in mystery and whispered legends.
She hurried after Elora.
---
The throne hall glowed with cold morning light. King Raymond sat upon his throne, his face hard as stone. His councilors stood at his sides, their heads bowed. Queen Hazel was beside him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
At the center of the room knelt the royal messenger — a tall man clad in silver armor trimmed with dark green. He held out a scroll bound in wax and stamped with the sigil of Whisperwood: a raven entwined with a rose.
"Your Majesty," the messenger said, voice echoing across the marble floor, "by order of His Highness King Valen of Whisperwood, I bring you a proposal — one that concerns peace and union between our realms."
The hall stirred.
Queen Rachel's eyes gleamed with intrigue, while Mary and Martha exchanged sly smiles. But Luna felt her stomach twist. She sensed something grave behind the messenger's calm words.
King Raymond broke the seal. The parchment unfurled in his hands. As his eyes moved down the page, his expression shifted — confusion, disbelief, and finally, rage.
The parchment trembled in his grasp.
"Is this a jest?" he thundered.
The messenger bowed his head. "It is a decree from my king. The Kingdom of Whisperwood seeks a permanent alliance through marriage. His Majesty requests the hand of your daughter, Any of the Princesses, for his heir, Prince Malachi."
A gasp escaped Queen Hazel's lips. Luna froze where she stood.
"Marriage?" King Raymond's voice rose, reverberating through the chamber. "Without counsel, without request — they dare dictate terms to Eclipsara?"
The messenger did not move. "Your Majesty, Whisperwood offers protection and trade in return for this union. They say it was foreseen by their seers — a bond of light and shadow, binding peace between the realms."
King Raymond rose from his throne, his robe sweeping like storm clouds behind him. "Foreseen or forced, I will not have my daughter treated as a pawn in another man's game!"
The hall trembled with his fury.