Chapter 2 : The Third Princess (2)
It was time for the grand presentation of the Carlton—a ritual passed down through generations of House Carlton.
Esme Carlton, the illegitimate third princess, walked with calm, deliberate steps, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floors of the palace.
The silk of her purple gown seemed to be in rhythm with her movements, and the subtle shine of the embroidered gemstones caught the light from the grand chandeliers above.
For a few weeks now, Esme had practiced walking in heels and carrying herself like a true princess.
Now, all that effort bore fruit.
Her head was held high, shoulders straight, and every step exuded grace.
The Carlton blood truly flowed in her veins.
At the end of the hallway stood the grand staircase, a breathtaking structure of carved white marble and gilded railings.
Below it lay the ballroom, filled with Enorth's nobles and elite.
The air was rich with the hum of chatter, the clinking of crystal glasses, and the soft strains of classical music played by a live orchestra as their hands moved on their musical instruments with divine grace.
Standing tall at the top of the stairs was her father, King Norbert Carlton.
His royal cape hung heavy on his shoulders, and his silver crown gleamed beneath the chandelier's light.
His back was to her, but the moment Princess Esme came to stand beside him, he turned slightly.
"Your Majesty, my father, the King," Esme greeted in a practised voice almost like she had memorised the line.
The princess bowed in a formal curtsy, her hands lifting the lower sides of her gown with elegant precision.
The king looked at her. His usual stern expression faltered.
For the first time in her life, Esme saw emotion flicker in his eyes—surprise, maybe even pride.
"Rise, my princess," King Norbert said.
Esme straightened slowly, uncertain of what she had seen on the king's face.
'Was that... awe?' she wondered.
The servants stationed near the staircase paused in their duties, their gazes drifting toward her.
Some whispered quietly among themselves, eyes wide as they took in her transformation.
For years, Esme had lived like a background character.
An extra in her own world.
She was overshadowed by her siblings, especially her dazzling elder sister, Olivet.
But tonight, Princess Esme Carlton stepped into the spotlight.
The king cleared his throat and extended his arm toward her. "Come. Let us not keep the guests waiting."
Esme took her father's arm with a steady hand, her heart pounding.
She wasn't used to this.
Together, they moved forward to the top of the staircase. From that height, she could see the entire ballroom stretched out below them.
The crowd was dazzling—ladies in flowing gowns of every color, gentlemen in finely tailored coats.
They mingled, laughed, dined, and danced, oblivious to her presence—until the music stopped.
A trumpet sounded sharply, drawing all eyes to the top of the staircase.
"Presenting His Majesty, the King of Enorth, King Norbert Carlton!" the herald called, his voice loud and clear.
"And Her Highness, the Third Princess, Princess Esme Carlton!"
All conversation ceased in that instant.
Hundreds of faces turned toward them.
King Norbert began his descent, and Esme followed, clinging to her father arm-in-arm while carefully matching his pace.
Every step felt like a performance.
She kept her eyes forward, her arm resting lightly on her father's arm.
The silence was almost eerie.
By the time they reached the final steps, Esme could feel their gazes.
No one spoke.
They were simply staring… staring at her.
She stole a glance around the ballroom.
Faces were filled with awe, astonishment, admiration… and envy.
She was no longer just the unknown third princess.
For a moment, she was no longer the illegitimate child.
No longer a bastard.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, the king stopped and addressed the crowd.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said in his deep, commanding voice, "I present to you my third daughter—Princess Esme Carlton."
Polite applause followed, swelling quickly into genuine appreciation.
Esme felt her cheeks warm.
The weight of so many eyes was overwhelming, but at the same time, thrilling.
While the crowd still acknowledged the king and the princess, a broad-shouldered man with a round belly and rosy cheeks stepped forward from the crowd.
He wore a lavish coat lined with fur and a large family crest pinned proudly to his chest.
"Your Majesty!" he boomed with a hearty laugh. "I must say, I never expected to see such a radiant young lady beside you! Have you been hiding this jewel from us all this time?"
King Norbert smiled faintly. "Duke Lorton," he greeted.
"Allow me to introduce my daughter," he said, turning his eyes proudly to Esme. "Esme, this is the Duke of House Lorton."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Duke Lorton," Esme replied with a shy smile, curtsying politely.
"The pleasure is all mine," the duke replied with an approving nod. "Your Majesty, it's a fine thing you've brought her before us. My son, James, just turned eighteen—he's a bright lad, and quite the catch if I may say so. Perhaps the princess and my James might suit one another? What says you, my king, haha!"
King Norbert chuckled softly. "Duke Lorton, Esme has only just turned sixteen. Isn't that a little early to speak of matchmaking?"
"There's no such thing as too early, Your Majesty," the duke said, waving his hand. "It never hurts to make connections early on."
He turned and looked over the crowd. "James! Where are you, boy?"
"Here, Father," a calm voice answered.
The crowd parted as a tall, fair-skinned young man stepped forward.
His dark hair was neatly styled, and his light brown eyes sparkled under the ballroom lights.
He carried himself with quiet confidence.
"There he is!" the duke said proudly. "Come, James."
James approached the royal pair and bowed respectfully. "Your Majesty. Your Highness."
"Rise," the king said.
Esme gave a small curtsy. "Sir James, it's a pleasure to meet you. Though a short time, your father has spoken quite highly of you."
"The pleasure is mine, Princess Esme," William replied smoothly. Then, taking her hand, he brought it gently to his lips and kissed the back.
There it was—James' intention was made clear with this singular act.
Esme's heart skipped a beat.
The gesture caught her off guard.
Such a greeting was a subtle sign of interest in Enorth, and James' warm smile only deepened Esme's blush.
He looked at her again with calm, sincere eyes. "You look wonderful tonight, Princess Esme."
"Oh, would you look at that, Your Majesty?" Duke Lorton purred with a chuckle. "They make a fine pair already, don't you think?"
Duke Lorton then turned his attention to his son, "James, would you be interested in getting to know the princess better?"
"If the princess permits me," James answered, turning to her.
"May I visit your courtyard from time to time? I'd like to get to know you… at least as friends."
Esme was speechless.
No boy had ever spoken to her like this.
Her mind blanked, and her voice wavered.
"Ah… I…" she murmured, flustered.
King Norbert gave a soft laugh. "Well, if young James wishes to court my daughter, I'll not stand in his way. But be warned. It won't be easy courting a princess."
"Of course, Your Majesty," the duke said, grinning ear to ear. "My James is more than ready for the challenge."
James turned back to Esme, his voice gentler this time. "Then, Princess Esme, may I at least start by being your friend?"
Esme looked into his light brown eyes—warm, respectful, sincere.
"O-Okay," she said softly, her cheeks burning.
The duke laughed again. "Well then! This evening just got far more interesting!"
The guests around them began to chatter once more, this time with excitement.
Whispers about the charming third princess and her first potential suitor spread quickly.
But Esme barely noticed.
Her heart was still racing.
This was her first ball—and somehow, she had become its shining star.