The day of the ball,
Liora was woken up by her maid Lyran early in the morning to make her look more beautiful than even the princess herself. The soft golden sunlight slipped through the tall windows of her room, lighting up the space that smelled faintly of lavender and rosewater. Outside, the sky was a clear blue, birds chirping gently as the warm spring breeze swayed the garden trees.
Lyran had already prepared everything, the luxurious bathwater, the scented oils, the powdered pearl facial masks. Liora had to sit for hours, her skin being scrubbed, oiled, and powdered until it glowed. Her lips were painted a subtle rose color and her cheeks were dusted with a light blush. Her hair was carefully tied up into an elegant bun, with a few soft curls falling to frame her face. At the back, she placed the delicate butterfly clips, silver with tiny stones, that made her look almost magical.
Then came the dress. A soft shimmering lavender gown that floated with every step she took. The bodice hugged her form just right, and tiny crystals embroidered into the skirts glittered like stars. Around her neck hung a diamond necklace once worn by her late mother.
Just as she finished getting ready, Emeric arrived.
He stood at the entrance of the estate in a dark navy coat lined with silver threads. His shirt was crisp white, tucked neatly into his black trousers, and his sword rested at his hip like it belonged there. His brown hair was slightly tousled in a way that didn't look messy, just right. In his hand, he held a small bouquet of pale gardenias.
He stepped forward the moment Liora appeared.
He kissed the back of her hand the second she came closer.
"You look beautiful, Lady Liora," he spoke with a smile.
Liora smiled awkwardly, her cheeks already warming from the morning rituals now blushing for a different reason.
"Shall we take our leave?" he asked, holding his hand out gently.
Liora gave a small nod. He helped her into the carriage, one of the Ravella family's finest. It was painted deep black with a golden crest, the wheels polished until they gleamed. Inside, it smelled faintly of old leather and fresh flowers. The cushions were velvet, and as she sat down, he made sure she was comfortable before sitting opposite her.
The horses started moving, hooves clacking softly on the stone path. The palace was two hours away.
The silence between them stretched just a little, filled with the gentle rocking of the carriage and the rustling of her gown.
"May I know why you sent me a letter asking to escort me?" she asked, unable to control her curiosity anymore.
"Ah... I have looked at you a few times when I came to your home with my father, Lady Liora. I knew it was your night tonight. I was unsure if you already had a partner. I just wanted to send my letter, just in case."
"Just because you saw me?"
"I think you look very beautiful, Lady Liora."
"You think?" she mumbled, almost too quiet for him to hear.
"Pardon? Did you say something?"
"Aren't you Seraphina's friend?" she asked.
"Yes, I am..." he replied calmly, "but that has nothing to do with me escorting you, Lady Liora."
Back at the estate, Isadora sat near the window, lips pressed tightly. She watched from behind the curtains as Emeric escorted Liora to the carriage like he had all the right in the world. Every bit of her burned with quiet anger, but she didn't dare speak a word, not when Edric was still in the house. Not when he had personally approved of Liora attending the ball in the finest dress. Not when he was the one who sent the order to receive Emeric respectfully.
So Isadora smiled her usual fake smile. And stayed quiet.
At the same time, Seraphina peeked from the corner of the corridor. She had been hiding near the staircase just to watch them. Her fingers gripped the wall gently, and a soft little smile played on her lips. She looked genuinely happy seeing Liora like that, for once not alone, not ignored, not forgotten. Just… radiant.
And that was enough for her.
As they reached the palace, Liora felt like she'd stepped into a world too blinding to belong to her. Gold-framed halls stretched endlessly, and every step echoed against the polished marble as if announcing her presence too loudly. The place was bustling, crowded with nobles wrapped in luxury, faces unfamiliar, expressions unreadable.
Her grip on her dress tightened. She could feel the weight of eyes, but not one pair met hers kindly.
"You look beautiful, Lady Liora," Emeric whispered, low and reassuring. "Raise your head high and walk with pride."
She let out a slow breath and did just that.
Before the ball commenced, all the young noblewomen were guided to the tea table. A dazzlingly long setting in the sunlit west hall, filled with the scent of blooming lilacs and the soft clink of porcelain. Everyone sat by status, duchesses at the top, viscountesses and baronesses further down. At the head of the table sat Princess Aurelia Myrelinth, flawless as ever, with her court of glittering vipers standing behind her.
The moment the tea began, so did the performance.
"Oh dear," one girl murmured, glancing down the table, "I almost wore last season's brooch today. But I suppose it wouldn't matter. Some here must think anything with a shine counts as a jewel."
Another chimed in sweetly, "Oh hush, the ball is about grace, not birth, isn't it? Some of us are simply... learning to adjust."
A round of quiet laughter passed through the group.
"They say even a maid can become a marchioness these days," one girl mused, sipping her tea. "What a charming time to be alive."
"But imagine the pressure," another replied, her voice honey-smooth. "To fill the shoes of someone born to it, must be exhausting. And for the household too."
"Especially for those who were once the light of that household," one said with a meaningful glance, not looking at Liora, but making it clear. "Change always comes at someone else's cost."
Princess Aurelia set down her teacup with an elegant clink.
"Now, now, ladies," she said, voice calm but pointed. "We mustn't gossip about noble families like that. It
's unseemly."
A beat of silence passed, long enough to let her words sting.