After the first dance… she got to dance with a few more.
Liora was a beautiful woman, that was clear. And with the title of a Marquess's daughter trailing behind her name like an elegant silk ribbon, she naturally became a popular pick on the ballroom floor. Perhaps that was the very reason why so many women in the room secretly hated her. She could feel it, the heavy gazes, the subtle scoffs, the whispers hidden behind fans.
But Liora didn't care much. Just as her maid Lyran had told her, she used this opportunity well, observing every single man she danced with. Their posture, their words, their eyes, their hands. Some were charming. Some too confident. Some clearly calculating.
After what felt like an eternity trapped in waltz after waltz, Liora finally took a step back from the crowd, excused herself quietly, and slipped away from the dance floor. She reached for a glass of wine, her fingers slightly trembling from the constant pressure. She sipped slowly, letting the taste linger on her tongue, before drifting toward the long food table filled with sweets and meat pies, delicate fruits, golden cutlery and untouched bread rolls stacked like little crowns.
She sat down alone at the side, keeping her head high, as always, but her eyes were busy. Observing.
Thanks to her studies, Liora knew almost every name and background of the men in the room. It was the only edge she had. After all, to Edric Ravelle, her only use was being a pawn in his plans, a delicate piece on his royal chessboard. That truth sat heavy on her chest, but it also kept her mind sharp. She had to choose right. She couldn't afford to be naive.
And then…
"Duke Izek Viremont has arrived!" the guard announced loudly.
Gasps echoed through the ballroom like soft thunder.
"Duke Izek?" "I thought he never attended such parties." "Don't tell me he's here for the princess…" "There are talks, you know… Marriage talks between their houses." "Are we going to witness the wedding of a century?"
Whispers bloomed like wildfire, burning through every corner of the grand room.
And then he entered.
The ballroom, loud and golden and buzzing with laughter just seconds ago, fell into stunned silence.
Duke Izek Viremont.
With blue hair that caught the candlelight like silk, and eyes of the same shade, eyes so piercing they could freeze fire. His features were perfect, painfully so. His face sculpted like marble, smooth and flawless despite the rumors of battlefield blood on his hands. He looked like a painting, only more real, more dangerous.
He wore a sleek midnight-blue suit lined with silver at the cuffs and collar, embroidered with a crest of his house. He didn't wear many jewels, and he didn't need to. The way he carried himself, shoulders straight, steps slow and firm, screamed of old money, ancient power, and something far more terrifying: control.
"Oh my, his beauty…" "He went to war when he was only fourteen. Not even a scar." "I heard he's ruthless." "Some say he kills anyone who dares meet his gaze…" "Rumors sure are scary," Liora murmured, her eyes locked on him.
She didn't know why, but she couldn't look away.
This was the first time she'd seen such a man, a beauty that didn't try, a presence that crushed you without lifting a finger. She'd seen his portrait once, hanging in one of the Ravelle drawing rooms. But it had been nothing, nothing, compared to the living man in front of her.
His walk, his poise, even the sharp line of his jaw, everything about him oozed pride. Royalty. Power.
He didn't spare a glance at the nobles whispering about him. He didn't even blink.
He walked straight to the princess.
"Congratulations on coming of age, Your Highness," he said coolly, voice smooth, deep, and as expressionless as stone. He didn't even bow properly, nor did he take her hand. Not even a token gesture of respect.
The princess, Aurelia Myrelinth, blinked, slightly taken aback. But she quickly recovered and smiled with sweet charm. "How are you, Izek? It's been so long since we've seen each other. I missed you."
"I have been well, Your Highness."
There was silence again. Then she leaned forward just a bit, a sparkle in her eyes that was too practiced to be real. "Would you like to dance with me?"
Gasps from the crowd.
It was custom for a man to offer a lady the dance, especially in a royal setting. But since it was the princess, people let it slide. Still, tension built in the room like a storm cloud.
Duke Izek didn't hesitate.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness. But I'm feeling under the weather. I only came to offer my congratulations."
The princess froze. Her smile wavered, just a crack, barely noticeable. But to Liora, it was obvious.
"It's okay, Izek. You should… take rest," she said softly, but the red blooming on her cheeks was not from shyness. It was anger she couldn't show.
Izek didn't say anything else. He turned without delay, walked toward the wine table, took a glass, didn't even drink it, and strode out of the ballroom as casually as he came.
"Look at how rude he was to the Princess…" "Being beautiful really is enough, I guess." "I heard he even killed his own allies once." "He has no compassion." "He's like a wolf in silk."
And just like that, the rumors danced through the air again, faster than the music.
Liora stood slowly.
She didn't know what made her do it.
But she followed him.
She slipped out quietly, leaving behind the golden hall, the music, the dancers, the clinking glasses and cloying perfume. Her feet made soft sounds against the marble steps as she walked into the night.
She kept her distance.
From behind the tall rose bushes lining the path, she spotted him, Duke Izek, seated alone on a stone bench near the moonlit fountain. The water shimmered like silver in the dark, and the gentle wind made the roses sway as if they were bowing before him.
He didn't look like someone who had just insulted a princess.
He looked… distant. Quiet.
His pale hair fluttered slightly in the breeze. The moonlight spilled on his face like it belonged there. And under that soft glow, framed by roses, water, and stars, he looked breathtaking.
Liora stopped.
Her breath caught.
She couldn't understand it, but there was something about that man, something beyond reason.
And she couldn't look away.