Chapter 6
T he day of the ball bustled with activity.
Thankfully, Father and I could reschedule all routine meetings off this day, so that I could handle the event, and getting ready for it.
He stood by, ready to intercept any issues.
The event planner was running through the list one last time with me to ensure the timing of the various announcements and festivities, while Ivy and Amyra helped me with my hair.
They had wet my long, normally straight chestnut hair before dawn and twisted it around dozens of thin ropes.
Now that the ball was just two hours from starting, they were taking the twists out so that my hair had a tight curl.
After releasing the twists, they took my hair and wove it into a waterfall style, pinning the face-framing strands to the back to hide the tiara’s edge.
This was always one of Mother’s favorite styles on me, but it was so much effort to create, especially since the twists never stayed overnight in my hair, so we always need to wake up early to start the process.
The tiara they chose was not just beautiful — it was breathtaking, almost painfully so.
A pink morganite gleamed at its center, soft yet commanding, set in an intricate weave of gold filigree that curled like flames caught in a frozen moment.
Brilliant sapphires, crimson rubies, and gleaming amethysts scattered down the sides, catching the light with every movement like bright embers trapped in metal.
It looked like something plucked from a fairytale; a crown meant for a queen beloved by her people.
But I knew better than to be swept away by its beauty.
The weight of it pressed heavy on my head, not just in gold and gemstones, but in expectation, duty, control.
A silent warning of the role they needed me to play — the queen they wanted me to become.
I didn’t know if I was being adorned for celebration or sacrifice.
Maybe both. Maybe neither. Maybe it didn’t matter, because I wouldn’t let them decide for me.
I couldn’t deny its beauty, nor the strength it symbolized. But I could refuse to let it cage me. Even as the gold circled my head like a noose disguised as a crown, I let my chin lift just a little higher, daring it to tighten.
Just as they finished securing the tiara, Eliza entered the room. Amyra jumped up, “Oh perfect, Eliza, we are ready for the dress now! What do you think of Lyla’s hair and tiara?”
Eliza sized me up and nodded. “It is magnificent. I’m afraid, Princess, that I may have set the bar too high.
Please forgive me.” Opaque white paper hid the dress she held, preventing me from seeing any details.
Eliza unwrapped it using delicate, practiced movements, and I could finally lay my eyes on it.
I gasped at what was in front of me, struck speechless by the dress she had created.
I had never seen a dress this gorgeous in my life.
The fabrics were a mixture of the pinks and oranges that Eliza had heard me discussing with the planners throughout our many fittings.
Before I could even say a word about it, all three women were eagerly helping me to step into it.
Once it was on, they helped me up onto my stool so that Eliza could evaluate for fit, and Amyra and Ivy helped me into my shoes for the evening.
The dress looked even more stunning on me.
The structured bodice fit to my torso, providing a sweetheart neckline that accentuated my chest perfectly.
A twist of sparkling orange and pink tulle wrapped around my upper arms in an illusion of sleeves.
The skirt of the dress seemed to be made entirely of layers of pink tulle, with pale pink fabric orchids delicately hand-sewn throughout.
Eliza had pulled out a bouquet of real irises and started pinning the delicate flowers into the dress.
I hadn’t ever seen anyone wear real flowers in their dress before, and the effect was stunning.
As I stared at my reflection, a tear rolled down my face. My mother would have loved to see this. I was never much for getting dressed up like this, but she lived for this type of excitement, and this dress would have floored her. “Eliza, it truly is perfect. I am so glad you had this vision.”
Eliza smiled, mouth full of pins, as she attached another iris along my waist. Amyra noticed my tear and wiped it away with a peach-colored square of cloth.
She handed the square to me. “My sweet Queen, you are stunning. I adore this on you and know that you will find the perfect princely consort tonight. Here, take this square. You have pockets on your sides. Stick this in there, in case you need it. I have seen the ball room today, and I suspect you will continue to be moved to tears. The Queen truly surrounded your family with people who understand you and want to celebrate you in ways I don’t think you realize yet. ”
Many aspects of this evening felt like the end of my life, but it sounded as if our court was full of people determined to make it memorable. For the first time, I felt excited.
At that moment, a knock sounded at my door. Ivy stepped back and surveyed me, then provided a firm nod. “You are ready to receive people. Shall I check?”
I nodded, and she turned to the door, cracking it open.
Ethan strolled inside like he owned the palace — which, if I hadn’t been the heir, he probably would have.
He looked annoyingly handsome in his usual choice of formal wear: black on black, a flat black shirt with silky matching pants and coat.
His only pop of color was a crisp white satin bow tie, which somehow made the rest of him look even more dangerously charming.
This had become his unofficial uniform for palace balls, and it suited him far too well.
“About time,” he teased, flashing a grin as he caught Ivy’s eye. “You let her wear all this and didn’t save me a preview?” He let his gaze sweep over me with exaggerated flair, then turned to Ivy, giving her a playful once-over. “And you look far too composed for a night of mischief, Ivy.”
She arched an unimpressed brow at him, but I didn’t miss the faint twitch of a smirk at the corner of her mouth.
“Ethan,” I interrupted, fighting the urge to roll my eyes, “I’m glad you’re here. It’s almost time to head to the ball, and I want to review my choices before we go.”
The teasing faded from his expression, replaced by focus as he shifted smoothly into his role. Whatever else Ethan was, he never failed me when it mattered.
“Of course,” he said, stepping closer. “I know we discussed choosing Prince Egan and Prince Frederick, but who’s the third in your sights?”
I took a breath, steadying myself. “Please, I need you to be on board with this one. It’s personal, but Ivy made a strong case for it last night.”
His brows rose, curiosity flashing in his eyes. “Go on.”
“Spencer.”
A flicker of something crossed his face — a brief, almost imperceptible flash of distaste, maybe even surprise. And then, as quickly as it came, it was gone, buried beneath his careful neutrality.
“What benefit does Spencer provide?” he asked, his voice measured but not dismissive.
Dammit. He wasn’t sold. But at least he wasn’t outright rejecting it.
I pressed on. “I know his kingdom and ours have strong relations, and that won’t change.
But more than that, we know Spencer — as a person.
He’s kind. Thoughtful. And I trust him. Our existing friendship could help us manage the Council and push for the progress we need.
And I like him,” I admitted, quieter now.
“On a personal level, he’s someone I can be comfortable with, someone I can trust alone.
None of the others can give me that. I want to feel safe in my own home. ”
My mouth tightened, my brows drawing together as I waited for his answer. If I couldn’t convince Ethan, I’d never convince the Council. And I couldn’t claim love — not when there’d been no courting, no declarations from any of these men.
Ethan’s eyes softened. He took my hands in his, the warmth of his grip steadying me.
“I think those are all powerful reasons,” he said, his voice gentler now.
“And, Lyla? You don’t have to choose any of these men if you don’t trust them.
Your safety matters more than trade deals or alliances.
We can always negotiate for what our people need, but we can’t trade for your peace of mind. ”
His lips quirked into a small, roguish grin. “Besides, if anyone makes you uncomfortable tonight, Ivy and I will have a lovely excuse to start a scene.”
“You’ll have an excuse to start a scene regardless,” Ivy replied dryly.
Ethan’s grin widened. “Now that’s the spirit.”