Chapter 22
By the time Rain stumbled out of the club, he was heavily intoxicated.
He and Jay had put on quite the public display, enough that Wren had to pry Jay off him and shove him onto a bus home.
Elijah, bless him, had called the Shadow Guard on Rain’s behalf to arrange a lift back to the palace.
There was no universe in which Rain could be trusted to navigate home alone; not without detours, disasters, or accidentally starting another international incident.
When the car rolled through the palace gates, the guards stared in open shock.
Nobody expected the prince to arrive at the ball blackout drunk, but perhaps that would make the whole ordeal more tolerable for him.
They ushered the car through quickly, muttering into their radios.
Rain felt their panic buzzing through their energies.
They were terrified he’d lose control tonight, especially with half the continent’s royal families inside.
The car stopped. The Shadow Guard driver opened the door politely.
Rain tried to step out but couldn’t move.
He blinked, confused; then burst out laughing when he realised he was still buckled in.
He didn’t even remember fastening it. After a clumsy battle with the clasp, he finally tumbled out of the car
“Rain! What in the God’s names are you doing?
” Snow came flying down the steps, stopping halfway.
She was wrapped in a pastel blue silk dressing gown over the top half of a stunning waterfall of blue fabric.
Her hair was in rollers, makeup half done—one eye a perfect smoky blend of violets and blues, the other barely started.
Rain laughed at the sight of her.
“I don’t understand what is so funny. Look at the state of you.”
“Sissss, you need to chill. I am fine. I am better than fine,” he slurred, immediately tripping on the first step. “Oops.”
Snow tutted loudly. “Yes, you’re fine, and yet I’m being dragged out here because the guards are too scared to deal with you.”
“Some guards we have then. Very comforting.” Rain plopped down on the step where he’d tripped, letting the world spin around him.
Neel trotted down the stairs. “Your Highnesses,” he greeted. “Let’s get you inside before more guests arrive.”
“Ugh, this stupid ball,” Rain groaned, burying his face in his hands. “And fuckin’ Julian.”
“No. You’re not doing this here.” Snow grabbed his arm, yanking away the support for his head. Rain groaned and swatted her away.
“It’s fine, I’ll come inside. I don’t need your help.” He pushed himself upright, nearly toppled backwards, then jerked forward to compensate. Neel moved behind him; close enough to catch him, far enough to preserve his dignity.
“Neel, can you get him ready? He must attend,” Snow said.
“Yes, Your Highness. It may take some time, but he will be there. Won’t you, Sir?”
Rain rolled his eyes.
“And if there’s anything you can do to sober him, I’d be eternally grateful,” Snow added, glaring.
“I am here, you know.”
“Barely,” she muttered.
“Ugh, more damn stairs. Why do we live with such inconvenience?” Rain complained.
“Come, take my arm,” Neel said warmly. “I, too, understand the frustration of many stairs.”
Rain didn’t argue. He let Neel guide him up the curved staircase toward their wing. At his room, Snow bid them goodbye, hurrying off to finish getting ready.
Rain collapsed face-first onto his bed, groaning as the room spun violently.
“Sir,” Neel said gently, “I’ll fetch water and medication. Are you able to get yourself into the shower?”
Rain only groaned.
“Rain, Sir. I know it’s a chore, but we must prepare you for this evening.”
“Ugh, for fuck’s sake. Yes, okay, Neel. I’ll shower.” He forced himself upright to prove it.
Neel turned on the shower, set out a towel, and left him to it.
Rain staggered into the bathroom, peeled off his shirt, and tossed it vaguely toward the armchair.
The hot water was bliss. His muscles loosened, his mind fogged pleasantly, and for a moment he forgot the world existed.
He shaved blindly, let the water pour over him, and closed his eyes.
A knock sounded.
“Rain! Sir!” Neel’s voice was oddly slurred.
“What is it?” Rain called, turning off the water.
“I can tell you’re enjoying your shower, but so can everyone on this side of the palace. You’re projecting your emotions.”
Rain froze. What? He slammed his walls up instantly.
“Very good, Sir,” Neel said. “I thought I’d warn you before things got… steamy.”
Dirty old man. Rain snorted.
He dried off and stepped out with a towel around his waist. Neel had laid out his suit: a midnight-blue three-piece with fine silver pinstripes that shimmered under the light, a white silk shirt, and a deep blue ascot embroidered with the royal emblem.
At least he’d look put together, even if he wasn’t.
Neel handed him water and medication. Rain swallowed obediently, fully intending to drown any future headache with more alcohol anyway.
He dressed with Neel’s help—buttons and buckles were beyond him tonight. Neel added cuff-links, straightened his sleeves, and tied the ascot with practised ease.
“How do I look?” Rain asked, striking a pose.
“You scrub up nicely, Sir. Very handsome,” Neel said, running a lint roller down his trousers. “Just fix your hair. As much as I enjoy the messy look, tonight calls for refinement.”
Rain grinned. He loved their banter.
He styled his hair back, teasing a little volume into it.
With his face unobscured, his green eyes looked even more piercing against his pale olive skin.
In full formal attire, he looked every bit as intimidating as people treated him.
In his drunken haze, he briefly considered living in suits permanently. No—too restrictive.
He dabbed on cologne and stepped back into the room. Neel whistled.
“If I were thirty years younger, unmarried, and of higher standing, I’d be in trouble,” he joked, presenting the velvet box containing Rain’s topaz-encrusted crown. “Are you sobering?”
“Absolutely, positively plastered, my friend” Rain said cheerfully, placing the crown on his head. “But that’s probably for the best or else I would be less inclined to attend this damned event.”
The blue aura of the room washed over him as he stepped onto the balcony overlooking the ballroom.
He scanned the sea of colourful bodies, searching for green gowns—searching for Ivy.
Nothing. He’d hoped to get the first sighting over with on his own terms. Maybe it was flawed logic, but it gave him something to focus on besides the ache in his chest.
The ballroom—that always felt like a fishbowl—glittered below.
The architecture curved inward like a bowl, the décor a tribute to their kingdom’s predominant affinity for water.
Glass pillars filled with white sand and pebbles lined the perimeter, lit from behind with soft blue hues.
Silks draped from them in waves. In the centre hung a breathtaking coral-and-pearl sculpture, an oceanic tree of life with strands of pearls and lights cascading like falling water.
It was enchanting, like a hidden realm at the bottom of the ocean. And as suffocating as its depths.
Rain took a deep breath, steadied himself as best he could, and approached the staircase reserved for royal announcements. He adjusted his jacket one last time and nodded to the footman.
He was ready.
Or at least, he was drunk enough not to care.
“His Royal Highness, Prince Rain Beau Royale, Heir to the Blue Kingdom.”
Rain winced internally as every head in the ballroom turned toward him. He kept his chin high, hyper-aware of each step he took. One drunken misstep and his ego would never recover.
Several nobles from the Blue Kingdom intercepted him with a bow and pleasantries as he made his way around the dance floor.
He offered polite nods, nothing more, before positioning himself strategically in the northern alcoves; close to the servers with champagne, far from the most influential prying eyes.
Like his parents.
As if summoned by the thought, a server approached. Rain took two glasses, downed one immediately, and placed the empty back on the tray.
Leaning against a sand-filled pillar, he let his gaze drift.
Members of the Pink Court caught his attention; their appearance a magnificent spectacle.
One woman wore a wooden frame around her skirt, colourful feathered birds floated inside it, fluttering as she moved.
Her hair was sculpted into the shape of a beak.
Rain adored the absurdity of their formal fashion; they were works of art at an otherwise boring affair.
A shift in the music made his stomach drop. The band began to play Ivy’s favourite entrance song.
“His Royal Highness, Prince Julian Tyrian, Heir to the Purple Kingdom, and Her Royal Highness, Princess Ivy Emerald of the Green Kingdom.”
Rain reluctantly looked up, taking a long sip of champagne.
His heart hit the floor.
Ivy wasn’t dressed in green. She was draped head to toe in deep purple lace that hugged her curves and flared at her thighs in a perfect mermaid silhouette. Emeralds and amethysts glittered across her gown and through her long waves of hair. She looked radiant. Intentional. Calculated.
She stared directly at him as she descended the stairs.
Julian led her to the centre of the dance floor. Pompously regal. Only then did Rain truly look at him, he was dressed in deep violet velvet, his shirt made of the same sheer lace Ivy wore. They were coordinated. They were making a statement. And Rain understood every part of it.
They moved together effortlessly, Ivy’s attention fixed on Julian’s face, her dark lips curved in adoration. She looked happy. She felt happy. Rain’s chest tightened, but beneath the sting was something gentler—relief. She deserved happiness. And he could never give her that.