Chapter 16
Chapter sixteen
Lucille fluffed out the train of her dress, then stood to smile at Nin through the mirror.
“You are regal,” she said reverently.
Nin took a step closer, her eyes widening.
Instead of an updo, Lucille pinned half her hair while the rest cascaded in soft, loose waves around her shoulders.
A strand of blush pearls encircled her neck, and a single pearl drop rested above her sternum, highlighting the soft shimmer Lucille dusted on her collarbone.
The enchanted glitter glowed subtly, like a constellation of stars, upon her skin.
The gown was a faint pink—not too bright—but rich against her pale skin.
Roses embroidered on cream lace decorated her neckline, sleeves, and skirt.
Ribbons gathered the silk into ruched gatherings, topped with bows.
Gems shaped like diamonds and swirling, embroidered leaves embellished her stomacher-front bodice.
The hip pads and layers of petticoats flared out in a broad sweep of panniered skirts.
Lucille’s final touch was a tiara that sparkled under the chandelier lights.
From her periphery, nobles filled the courtyard, flaunting ornate gowns adorned with frills, ribbons, pearls, and jewels.
Noblemen donned their best silk three-piece suits, but instead of wearing solid colors, they opted for delicate prints.
Murmurs of conversations floated up to her open window, and she swallowed.
The ball was tonight.
A clash of emotions sowed uncertainty in her heart.
Although she had gotten used to the several layers of clothing, the gown weighed as heavily as her uncertainty.
Instead of the court scrutinizing her, royalty from across the world would analyze her every step.
Cedric had also warned her of the dangers the night might bring.
She would have to be vigilant and poised, while also continuing to fool everyone into thinking she was the true Princess Marianne.
Her mind wandered to the nightstand where she kept her brother’s letters.
The prior afternoon, he wrote he was feeling better than he had in months and could eat something other than broth.
Her heart swelled, knowing her sacrifice of playing princess was paying off in invaluable ways.
Unlike their parents, he would survive Frostlung.
This was all for Alain. Her success was for his sake.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and Cedric entered at Lucille’s command.
His measured steps halted. Nin turned, her hands fidgeting as Cedric held her captive with the unreadable intensity of his eyes. Her heart stuttered.
“You look…” he started, his voice a soft murmur that resonated through the silent room.
Nin held her breath, counting the passing moments between them. She had never cared about what anyone thought of her appearance, but Cedric’s opinion suddenly carried the weight of all her secret hopes she tried not to name.
“… ready.”
Disappointment flashed within her, but Nin offered him a weak smile. “Ready for everything… assassins included, I suppose.”
“He will make sure you are safe,” Lucille said, assuring her.
“Yes,” Cedric said, nodding toward her bodice. “The stays are reinforced. I commissioned an Artisan to enchant them. They will protect you against any blade.”
“Are you expecting a stabbing in public?” she asked, chuckling nervously. The thought of any knife inspired nerves to flood her insides. “Those can be messy.”
“It’s a precaution,” he said. “I doubt they would do something so bold, but we’ll keep a vigilant eye out. Guards are stationed to confiscate weapons at the entrance.”
Nin bit her lip, glancing between Cedric and Lucille. “I hope that will be enough. But I’ll be able to handle myself otherwise.”
“You won’t be alone,” Lucille reassured her, placing a hand on her arm.
“Don’t try to act like a hero,” Cedric added gruffly. “If you sense any danger at all, even the slightest whisper, all you need to do is touch your necklace. It has also been enchanted to alert me.” He raised his pocket watch. “To this. I’ll be there in an instant.”
The precautions should have put her at ease, but a sense of foreboding prickled under her skin.
They announced Nin at the top of the stairs, and a sea of faces turned toward her as one.
She delicately floated down the steps, her heart hammering disjointedly against her ribcage.
At the bottom of the stairs, Rodrigue waited, his grin brimming with warmth for the woman he believed was his fiancée. Nin swallowed hard as she took his arm.
The royals followed in consecutive order.
The crown prince descended with confident steps, his eyes fixed on the crowd.
Nin hadn’t seen him since the formal dinner weeks before at her first appearance.
He had been called away to various duties, meetings, and hunts, having no interest in courtly intrigue or his own sister, it seemed.
The king and queen entered last, meeting them at the bottom of the staircase.
A wave of perfumed roses and music filled the hall.
Enchanted candles burned in candelabras without melting, their flames warm without scorching skin.
Long mirrors and tall windows lined the ballroom, their surfaces reflecting the sunset’s golden rays like a blessing upon the royal family.
The music shifted, the upbeat tempo filling the air, and the crowd parted, allowing Nin and Rodrigue to begin the first dance.
Nin counted the steps in her head—one, two, three, one, two, three—and focused on the movements and pauses as Cedric had instructed.
She remembered to smile when Rodrigue brushed hands with her, his grin reassuring and charming.
Polite applause followed before the music changed, and other dancers took the floor.
Another partner asked for a dance, and another.
She was required to accept each with a nod and a smile, engaging in meaningless conversation.
From her mandated studies, balls were social events where couples, married or betrothed, must dance with multiple partners.
This ensured no guest was excluded, and no host insulted.
If she danced with Rodrigue too often, and consecutively, it would inspire a scandal regarding impropriety.
Somewhere along the way, the steps became hazy, and the only thought that echoed in her mind was Cedric and the dance she wished they could share.
But etiquette dictated otherwise. It would be improper for him to ask for a dance as Captain of the Princess’s guard. Even though he was born to nobility, his duty outweighed her wishful desires.
However, her mind wandered back to three nights prior.
Of unguarded, coy banter and easy laughter.
Of strong hands wrapped around her waist, and a blur of movement that made her breathless.
To the stunned silence that followed as Nin stared into Cedric’s dark eyes, his hands braced around her head, and the tingling awareness that shocked through her system.
When he had pulled away, she couldn’t understand why disappointment stung in her chest.
If she had her way, she could have danced all night with him.
Her current partner, the vicomte, bowed, signaling the end of the dance.
When he left to take a different partner, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
Turning, Nin glimpsed Adelina’s glare before it melted into a smirk.
Fashioned after her homeland of Ehrenmark, the gown was a perfect creation of lustrous silver that gleamed like polished metal.
Sparkling diamonds decorated her throat and ears, catching the light with each turn. But she wasn’t alone.
Prince Rodrigue was in mid-bow, asking Adelina to a dance.
Nin ground her teeth, but kept a pleasant smile.
What was wrong with Princess Marianne’s cousin?
Why was she wedging her way between not only an alliance but a genuine relationship?
It made little sense for her to pursue a man who already had someone in his heart.
Was that not common sense among royalty?
Nin exhaled a slow, controlled breath through her nose. She could not let Adelina worm her way between Princess Marianne and her fiancé.
Before she could take action, a tall, slim figure stepped in front of her. Ambassador Otto Dennhardt.
“I hope you can indulge me with a dance?” he asked, his voice low and even. His ash-brown hair, streaked with silver, was neatly combed, revealing a deep brow. When he smiled, it was polite, but it didn’t quite reach his gray eyes.
Nin looked over at his sharply tailored black suit, to his awaiting gloved hand. She nodded politely and took his hand to join him on the dance floor, as declining would have been rude.
The dancers formed two lines, and she curtsied opposite him. The music swelled, signaling the start.
“How are you this evening, Princess Marianne?” he asked as they slid past one another.
“I am well,” she said evenly.
“I’m pleased to hear it,” he replied. They clapped in time with the music. “Aurelion is fortunate to have its princess.”
“Thank you,” she murmured, twirling gracefully around him.
Something collided with her shoulder, knocking her off balance. Nin turned as Adelina spun away, catching the slight curl of her lips. A hand caught Nin at the waist, steadying her.
“Forgive her,” Otto said as he released her. “Tonight stirs some… emotions.”
Nin pursed her lips, her curiosity piqued. “If I have offended Her Highness, I would wish to rectify it,” she said carefully.
Otto sighed as he stepped in time with the music. “Princess Adelina carries considerable expectations from her parents. She was raised to secure what benefits her country, even if it belongs to someone else.”
She only nodded and smiled, but her instincts hummed with unease at the explanation.
When the last note of the orchestra lingered in the air, Otto bowed.