4 - The Welcoming Ball

CASSIAN

The ballroom was a sea of silk, finery and diamonds.

I stood to the side while my mother made her opening remarks, half-listening, pretending to care. I wished I could be anywhere else but the ballroom. My friends, nobles from the most powerful families in Aurelia, gathered around me, already dissecting the candidates like they were choosing horses for a race.

"Lady Calista Harthwell is a top contender," Lord Benton leaned in, flashing a knowing grin. "She has fire magic. Taheer might like that. Her father practically owns the council. You'd be mad not to pick her."

I offered him a half-smile. "She's well-prepared, I'll give her that. But this isn't just about magic or who her father is. The dragon trials will decide in the end if she’s a worthy contestant."

"And Lady Vivienne Trevanne?" another friend asked.

"Brute strength. That girl could probably throw you across the training yard. Sharp as a blade too."

I raised an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to impress me?”

Then came the mention of Lady Elora Dorne. The daughter of the richest man in the kingdom.

"She's timid," Benton said. "But her father's wealth l more than makes up for that."

I turned toward her. She stood near one of the columns, trying her best not to be seen. Beautiful, yes, but painfully shy. I wondered if she could manage a conversation with me.

"My parents would be thrilled if I married her," I said quietly. "The Dorne family practically feeds the entire kingdom."

Benton scoffed. "Not just anyone. It has to be someone worthy enough to ride a dragon. Whoever stands beside you should be more than just a pretty face with a famous last name. What do you think?”

I opened my mouth to say something, but before I could say anything, an instructor  beckoned me forward for the introductions.

Here we go.

-—————-

One by one, the girls lined up.

I nodded, smiled politely, and repeated the same dull compliments. Gods, it all felt so performative.

"Your Highness! I'm Lady Juliette Crestfall. It would be an honour to be chosen as your Queen!" one girl practically shrieked into my ear.

I blinked. "Yes... Lovely to meet you."

"Lady Elora Dorne," the steward announced.

She stepped forward, eyes downcast. "Y-Yes, Your Highness. It's truly an honour to be here," she whispered, barely audible.

I gave her a small, neutral smile. "I trust you're enjoying the evening."

She nodded. I moved on.

"Lady Vivienne Trevanne."

She met my eyes without flinching. "Your Highness."

"Lady Vivienne. I heard you’re very good at sparring. I’ve heard impressive things."

"Words are wind," she said. "I'd be happy to demonstrate if you ever have time for a sparring match."

I laughed, actually laughed. "I might take you up on that."

"Lady Calista Harthwell."

She stepped forward like she was already standing on a throne. Her gown was white, pristine, embroidered with silver thread. She was beautiful, probably one of the most beautiful ladies in the selection. Her smile was perfect. Her eyes were cold.

"Your Highness," she said. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"Have you?"

"Everyone has been talking about the selection for months. I couldn't wait to finally be here.”

I nodded. Said something polite. Moved on.

The instructor called name after name, I zoned out until she called out one particular name.

"Lady Lira Vale."

---

I turned.

And there she was.

She stood apart from the other girls, not physically, but something about her was different. Her dress was simple. Deep green. No jewels, no glittering embroidery, no handmaidens fussing over her train. Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a simple braid, and her face.

Her small heart shaped face was bare. Not even the hint of rouge on her round cupid bow lips.

No paint. No powder. No carefully applied blush to make her look demure or desirable.

She looked like she didn't care.

And she looked angry.

Not the performative anger of someone trying to seem fierce. Real anger. The kind that sat in the bones and weighed down the shoulders. The kind that came from pain and loss.

I was intrigued.

Who are you? I wondered. What are you doing here?

She stepped forward.

The other girls had curtsied. Smiled and bathed me in compliments.

She just stood there.

"Lady Lira Vale," I said. "Welcome."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Her voice was steady. Flat. No warmth.

"I don't believe I've seen your family at court  in years.”

"We live far from the capital. The journey is... difficult."

"And yet you made it."

"Yes."

A pause.

Her eyes met mine.

They were dark. Deep brown. And there was something in them, something that made me want to look closer. Something that made me forget, for just a moment, that I was supposed to be charming and distant and bored.

"Is something wrong, Your Highness?" she asked.

I blinked.

"No. Nothing's wrong."

"You're staring."

"Am I?"

She didn't smile.

Most girls would have blushed and preened. Tossed their hair and giggled behind their hands.

She just looked at me like I was an inconvenience.

Interesting, I thought.

"My apologies," I said. "I was just thinking that you don't seem... excited to be here."

"Should I be? The invitation was practically a threat.”

"The other girls are."

"The other girls want to be queen."

"And you don't?"

She was silent for a moment.

Then, “I'm here because my grandfather asked me to come."

"And what does your grandfather want?"

"To honour our family's name."

I studied her.

She was lying.

I didn't know how I knew, but I knew. There was something beneath her words, something she wasn't saying. Something that made her hands clench at her sides and her jaw tighten.

"Well," I said, "I hope you find what you're looking for, Lady Lira."

She curtsied, shallow, quick, almost dismissive.

"Thank you, Your Highness."

She walked away.

I watched her go.

---

The instructor called the next name.

I barely heard it.

My eyes were still on the girl in the green dress, disappearing into the crowd.

Lady Lira Vale, I thought.

"Your Highness?"

I turned.

The steward was looking at me expectantly.

"Lady Cassandra Evernight," he said.

I blinked.

Looked at the woman standing before me.

She was tall. Striking. Her gown was cut so low I had to make a conscious effort to look anywhere but at her full breasts. Her smile was calculated. Her presence was... deliberate.

"Lady Cassandra," I said slowly.

"Your Highness." She curtsied, low, graceful, practiced.

I studied her face.

Something about her was familiar.

"Forgive me," I said. "I was under the impression that you were already married."