Madam Elora worked with gentle urgency, her wrinkled hands moving like magic. She searched through the wardrobe until she found a gown fit for a dream—a delicate creation of lace and silk that shimmered faintly in the candlelight. The dress was a shade between moonlight and dawn, with intricate embroidery that caught the light as if the stars themselves had been sewn into the fabric.
From a small velvet chest, she brought out a set of jewels that had once belonged to Queen Dazel. The necklace glowed with soft crystal fire, the earrings sparkled like droplets of dew, and a tiara of silver leaves gleamed with quiet grace. When Madam Elora finished fastening each piece, she stepped back, eyes shining.
Then came the touch of artistry—a trace of rose upon Luna's lips, a brush of shimmer on her cheeks. When the princess turned toward the mirror, her breath caught.
The reflection before her did not look like the forgotten child of Eclipsara. The gown hugged her form gently, its sequins scattering light with every movement. Her golden-blond hair cascaded in soft curls beneath the delicate tiara. Diamond earrings glimmered at her ears. Her blue eyes, framed by long lashes, sparkled like twin stars. For the first time in years, she saw beauty staring back at her.
Elora smiled, her own eyes misting. "You truly look like a vision of elegance and grace—just like your mother," she whispered. "May her gentle soul rest in peace."
Luna's heart warmed. "Thank you, Nanny," she said softly, blinking away tears.
Arm in arm, they left her chamber and descended the grand staircase just as the ball began.
---
The palace was a realm of light and wonder. Chandeliers hung like constellations from the gilded ceiling, scattering gold across the walls. Velvet draperies framed tall windows, and garlands of roses and lilies perfumed the air. The orchestra played a sweet, lilting waltz that swelled and dipped like waves upon the sea.
Laughter echoed through the ballroom. Couples twirled in elegant circles across the marble floor, silks and satins rippling in every color imaginable. Servants glided through the crowd with trays of crystal glasses. The air was alive with music, joy, and whispered promises.
Then the grand doors opened again—and silence rippled through the hall.
Princess Luna stepped inside.
For a heartbeat, the music faltered. Heads turned. Gasps escaped lips. Every eye followed her as she moved forward, light catching in her gown like fire dancing on water. She walked with quiet grace, her smile shy yet radiant, her every step gentle but sure.
"Who is she?" someone whispered.
"It's the youngest princess—Luna," another replied in awe.
Admiration swelled through the crowd like a rising tide. Men bowed as she passed; ladies whispered with envy; even the musicians seemed to play softer as she glided by. For the first time in her life, Luna felt seen—not as the forgotten daughter, but as herself.
From across the room, however, two pairs of eyes darkened. Mary and Martha, her half-sisters, exchanged bitter glances. Their painted smiles tightened.
"How dare she draw attention," Mary hissed under her breath.
"She's stealing the night," Martha murmured.
Their mother, Queen Rachel, stood nearby, her jewels flashing like shards of ice. She had been speaking with a visiting prince—a tall, handsome young man with eyes the color of storm clouds. She had been planning to introduce one of her daughters to him, but his gaze had drifted elsewhere… to Luna.
Queen Rachel's lips thinned. "You must forgive my step-daughter," she said smoothly to the prince. "Her attire is rather plain compared to what my girls wear. Their gowns are the true works of the royal tailor—pure silk from beyond the mountains, woven with gold thread."
But the prince was no longer listening. His eyes remained fixed on Luna as she greeted nobles with soft curtsies. Every smile she offered seemed to light another spark in his chest.
---
Luna, unaware of the commotion she caused, sought refuge by the refreshment table. She reached for a goblet of wine, but in the press of the crowd, her hand trembled—and crimson liquid spilled across the front of a young man's jacket.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!" she gasped, lowering her gaze immediately. "Please, let me clean it—I didn't mean to—"
The man said nothing. He simply stepped back, his face shadowed from her view, and turned away without a word. She caught only a glimpse of him—tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair glinting beneath the chandelier—as he disappeared into the crowd.
Something about him tugged at her heart. His silence, his composure—it felt strange, unsettling. She wanted to see his face, to apologize properly, but before she could move, the music shifted, and the crowd closed around her once more.
A hand touched her shoulder. "There you are," said Queen Hazel, the second queen, with a gentle smile. "I was looking for you, dear. You look radiant."
Luna smiled shyly. "Thank you, Stepmother."
Hazel nodded approvingly at the gown and jewels. "You've done your mother proud tonight. Madam Elora has outdone herself."
For a moment, Luna felt safe again—until her thoughts drifted back to the mysterious stranger she had splashed. She glanced toward the ballroom's far corner, hoping to spot him, but he was gone.
---
Seeking comfort, Luna turned to find her father. She had not seen him all evening, and her heart longed for even a brief word of praise. She spotted him entering through the main doors, clad in royal blue, his crown gleaming beneath the lights.
"Father!" she called softly, hurrying to him. "I was looking everywhere for you."
King Raymond barely glanced at her. "Luna," he said curtly, "don't make a scene. I have guests to attend to."
Her heart sank. "I only wanted—"
But he was already walking away.
Behind him, Queen Rachel appeared again, smiling sweetly as she guided him toward the nobles. "Your Majesty," she cooed, "did you see what your daughter wore tonight? Surely that dress is too fine for her. I fear she may have borrowed—or worse, stolen—it."
But the king, burdened with other matters, barely heard her. He greeted his guests one by one, his coldness melting only slightly when nobles praised his youngest daughter.
"She is the image of her mother," one lady said warmly.
"Such grace! Such beauty!" another added. "She'll make a fine queen one day."
King Raymond forced a small smile. Yet he could not deny the truth in their words—Luna had grown into her mother's reflection. For the first time, he looked across the room at her, and something in his chest stirred… but only briefly. Duty called him elsewhere.
---
Luna remained by Queen Hazel's side, her presence quiet but commanding. Wherever she went, whispers followed—compliments, admiration, awe. She tried to stay humble, greeting guests softly and thanking them with graceful nods. But inside, her mind drifted again to the silent stranger. Who was he? Why had he seemed so cold?
Her stepsisters watched from afar, envy burning in their eyes.
"She thinks she's the star of the night," Martha muttered.
"Let's see how long that lasts," Mary replied darkly.
Queen Hazel noticed their sour expressions but said nothing. She turned instead to Luna. "My dear, don't wander too far," she warned gently. "This is a grand gathering—far larger than any before. Stay near me."
Luna nodded obediently. Yet as the evening stretched on, her curiosity grew unbearable.
Finally, she whispered, "Stepmother, may I take a short walk? I promise I'll bring my guards."
Hazel hesitated. "It's not safe to move through such crowds."
"Please," Luna pleaded softly. "I just need a moment of air."
After several more protests and Luna's solemn promise, Queen Hazel sighed. "Very well. But take Simeon, Collins, and Mark with you. And return soon."
"I will," Luna said, smiling gratefully.
---
Luna climbed the staircase to the upper balcony, her guards following at a respectful distance. From above, the ballroom stretched like a sea of color and light. She scanned the faces below, searching for the mysterious man in the crowd. But the sea of masks and jewels made it impossible.
At last, she gave up with a soft sigh and rested her hands on the railing. The cool marble steadied her racing heart. For all her beauty and the admiration she had earned, something still felt missing.
Perhaps it wasn't the gown or the ball she wanted—it was understanding. Connection. The warmth her mother once gave her.
When she turned to leave, she spotted Queen Hazel at the foot of the stairs, her expression anxious. "There you are," Hazel said as Luna descended. She gathered the princess in her arms. "You had me worried."
Luna smiled faintly. "Forgive me, Stepmother. I didn't mean to trouble you."
Hazel cupped her cheek affectionately. "You look more like your mother every day. Promise me you'll be careful tonight."
"I promise."
And as the orchestra struck up another melody, Luna glanced once more toward the crowd, unaware that the very man she had spilled wine upon was watching her from the shadows—his eyes fixed, his expression unreadable.
The night of elegance and envy had only just begun.