Chapter 6
The next few days disappeared into work.
Not meaningful work.
Not important work.
But the kind that is apparently essential when royalty decides to host a ball.
Sorting flowers. Cleaning vases. Rearranging decorative items that looked perfectly fine the first time but apparently needed to be polished into moral perfection.
I assisted in all of it.
Quietly.
Efficiently.
And, most importantly-
out of sight.
Which, I suspected, was the actual purpose of assigning me these tasks.
That felt fair.
If I were them, I wouldn't want me visible either.
Eventually-
the day of the ball arrived.
The palace changed with a kind of sharpened purpose.
Servants moved faster. Fabrics were carried through corridors in flowing armfuls of silk and color, trailing behind them like the palace had suddenly remembered it was supposed to look impressive.
Florists-actual florists-were arguing over arrangements with the intensity of people who believed symmetry was a matter of life and death.
I slowed my steps.
Watched.
Listened.
Because if there was one thing I had learned-from life and from poorly written novels-
when servants gather in one place, that's where the truth lives.
And the gossip.
Mostly the gossip.
I stopped near a pillar just as two maids hurried past.
"...final fittings today-"
"...His Highness from Viremont has arrived, so handsome-"
"...Her Highness turns eighteen-"
I went still.
Ah.
There it is.
I leaned back against the pillar, exhaling slowly as everything aligned far too neatly for comfort.
"Alright," I murmured, "let's review."
Month eleven.
Princess Lysenne Eryndor turns eighteen.
Birthday ball.
Prince attends.
Dance.
Spark.
The beginning of everything.
"Lucien Viremont," I said under my breath.
Of course his name is Lucien.
Why wouldn't it be Lucien?
I closed my eyes briefly.
"And I," I added quietly, "am sixteen."
Which meant-
This was it.
This was the event.
The beginning of everything going catastrophically wrong.
I opened my eyes and watched the movement again, the preparation, the anticipation building like something inevitable.
"So," I said, folding my arms, "step one-do not attend the ball."
Simple.
Clean.
Effective.
I nodded once.
"Yes. Excellent plan. No ball, no prince, no emotional instability, no tragic death scene."
A pause.
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
"...Suspiciously effective."
Still.
The plan stood.
I would not attend the ball.
I lasted until evening.
Which, in my defense, is impressive.
But hunger is persuasive.
And apparently, royal kitchens become significantly more generous when there is an event.
So naturally-
I made a decision.
A terrible one.
"I am not attending the ball," I whispered to myself as I slipped along the quieter corridors, "I am simply... accessing resources."
Perfectly reasonable.
Completely unrelated.
-
Sneaking into a palace event is surprisingly easy when no one expects you to exist.
Servants were busy.
Nobles distracted.
Guards focused on people who looked important.
I did not.
I slipped in through a side passage and followed the scent of food with focus and purpose.
And then-
there it was.
Tables.
Actual tables.
Covered in food.
Positioned at the back, ready to be moved in.
I stopped.
Stared.
Emotionally.
"Now this," I said softly, "is what I deserve."
I moved quickly.
Took a plate.
Sneaked some bread and something that looked like it had actual flavor, which immediately elevated its importance.
I did not question it.
Survival first.
Dignity-optional.
-
I didn't stay.
Because I value my continued existence.
I slipped back out, moving through quieter corridors until the noise of the ball softened into distant music and laughter drifting through the night.
Much better.
I made my way toward the western gardens-the neglected one near my quarters-and found a quiet spot near the hedges.
Then I sat.
And ate.
"This," I said between bites, "was worth the risk."
Silence.
Food.
Peace.
A rare, acceptable combination.
I considered going back for a second serving.
Strictly strategic.
"Comfortable?"
The voice came from behind me.
I froze.
Slowly-
I turned.
And there-
No.
No, no.
This is not happening.
He stood a few steps away, posture relaxed, expression mildly curious, dressed far too well to be anyone irrelevant.
Lucien Viremont.
Of course.
Of course it's him.
I stared at him.
What was he doing here?
He raised an eyebrow. "Staring, I believe, is not an answer."
Right.
Words.
"I'm... eating," I said.
Accurate.
Useless.
"I can see that," he replied calmly. "The question was-what are you doing here?"
I swallowed slowly.
Because this-
this was wrong.
This moment wasn't mine.
I felt it clearly.
Sharp.
Immediate.
Oh.
Oh, this is bad.
Because originally-
I wasn't supposed to meet him like this.
I was supposed to see him from a distance.
A quiet moment.
A glance.
Love at first sight.
Something dramatic and deeply inconvenient.
Not-
this.
Conversation.
Eye contact.
Recognition.
I stood up abruptly, brushing my hands together like I could reset reality.
"Right," I said quickly, nodding once, "this didn't happen."
He blinked.
"I'm sorry?"
"You didn't see me," I continued. "I'm not here. This is... irrelevant."
Something shifted in his expression.
Amusement.
Which was not encouraging.
"That is a very bold claim."
"I stand by it," I said. "Also, I'm nobody. Which helps."
"That rarely stops people from being where they shouldn't be."
"True," I said. "But in this case, I am also leaving."
I took a step back.
Then another.
He didn't move.
Just watched.
"Wait," he said. "You came into a royal event, took food, and decided to eat in the gardens."
"Yes."
"And your explanation is that you are... nobody."
"Yes."
A pause.
"I was hungry."
He looked at me for a long second.
And then-
very slightly-
he smiled.
That was concerning.
"I see," he said. "And your name?"
"No," I said immediately.
He blinked.
"No?"
"No name," I clarified. "No identity. No memory. You didn't meet me."
"That is not how introductions work."
"It is today."
I turned, already walking away.
"Enjoy the ball," I added over my shoulder. "It's very... decorative."
"And you?"
"Leaving," I said. "Successfully, if nothing else interferes."
I took a few steps-
then stopped.
Turned back.
Walked toward him again.
"...My plate," I said, picking it up. "Still food left."
A pause.
"Bye."
And before he could respond-
I left.
Quickly.
Quietly.
And with one very clear realization settling in as I walked away-
I had just changed the story.
And I had absolutely no idea what that meant.
-
And that-
was probably the real problem.