Music recommendation: "Young and Beautiful" by Lana Del Rey
The grand hall of Thalorwen shimmered under the soft glow of thousands of floating orbs, each casting a gentle light over the opulent scene. Silken drapes adorned the towering windows, swaying slightly in the evening breeze, while the scent of fresh blooms mingled with the heady aroma of fae wine. A symphony of music filled the air, a melodic weave of strings and flutes that echoed against the high ceilings, yet it seemed to barely penetrate the layers of boredom wrapping around King Asher.
Seated upon the majestic throne on a dais, Asher surveyed the room with an air of disinterest, his piercing gaze drifting over the myriad of colors and fabrics that adorned the guests. His throne, carved from shimmering silver and inlaid with delicate emeralds, stood as a stark contrast to the five lesser thrones flanking him on either side, each occupied by the rulers of the surrounding kingdoms. The ruling court had gathered for the evening's festivities, the air thick with anticipation and tension, yet Asher found himself detached from it all.
To his left, King Eldrin of Valdraen and King Mortain of Noctisar sat, his posture rigid, his eyes scanning the hall with the practiced precision of a hawk. To his right was Queen Seraphine of Elyndor and King Aleric of Sylriath. Beside them, Queen Maelis of Liraeth sat in a beautiful flowing sea green dress watching the activies below them.
Asher's attention drifted again to the gathered nobles, each bowing before the dais as their names were announced by a herald whose voice rang clear. "Lady Elara of House Loryn," he intoned, and the noblewoman stepped forward, a charming smile plastered on her face as she dipped into a low curtsy. Her gown sparkled with a cascade of gems that caught the light, but Asher's eyes flickered past her, uninterested in the flattery they all sought.
He could hear the soft murmurs of the crowd, a swirl of conversations interlaced with laughter and the clinking of glasses. Women from every corner of the realm cast glances toward the thrones, batting their lashes and whispering sweet nothings to one another about the eligible male rulers. Fae women draped in ethereal silks, humans clad in elegant attire, and even a few elven ladies with their graceful poise—all of them scheming, sizing one another up for favor and attention.
Catherine, Lady Margaret's daughter, stood among her peers, her striking features highlighted by the flickering candlelight. She was an alluring figure in her deep blue gown, fitted perfectly to accentuate her curves. "I dare say," Catherine said in a tone that dripped with false sweetness, "which of the rulers is the most dashing this eve? Surely, it must be King Asher," she continued, glancing toward him, the corner of her mouth curling in a flirtatious smile. "His eyes alone could capture an entire court."
"Oh, spare us, Catherine," Lady Alys of House Thorne chimed in, her tone dripping with faux sweetness. "His expression speaks more of ennui than allure. I hear he finds the ball dreadfully tiresome." The women around her tittered, glancing furtively at Asher, their amusement barely concealed.
Catherine's smile tightened as she gracefully brushed off the comment. "It's easy to see why you'd think that, Alys. But don't be disheartened by the king's silence. Perhaps he's more enchanted by… quieter beauty," she said, her voice soft but sharp, eyes sweeping meaningfully over Alys's more modest attire.
"I wonder if the king will dance tonight," Lady Selene whispered, her tone thick with intrigue. "If he does, it could spark quite the competition." Her eyes darted back to Asher, who remained steadfastly impassive, as though the entire ball was merely a backdrop to his thoughts.
"Oh, I doubt he will," Catherine shot back, her voice light but her eyes betraying a flicker of jealousy. "After all, why dance when he could have anyone he wants? Perhaps he's simply waiting for the most impressive display to capture his attention."
The ladies' whispers continued, flitting from topic to topic as their gazes darted between the thrones and the throngs of guests. Soon, attention shifted to the sirens, their ethereal beauty impossible to ignore. One stood out, a siren woman with silver hair that cascaded like water down her back, her figure wrapped in a shimmering gown that mirrored the sea's restless waves.
"Look at her," Lady Serilda murmured under her breath, her tone thick with jealousy. "So self-assured for a woman who doesn't even need to try. It's unfair, really—can't we all at least pretend to be playing by the same rules?"
"Yes," Lady Selene added, glancing with narrowed eyes at the sirens. "But they say those women are heartless, seducing men with their songs and leaving them empty and broken. They'll never know true love, will they?"
A smirk played on the lips of the silver-haired siren as she passed, clearly having overheard the insult. "Oh, but darling," she purred as she drew near the fae women, her voice like silk, "if your looks were as powerful as our songs, you wouldn't be standing on the sidelines, would you?" She winked, her voice a honeyed weapon, before gracefully drifting away, leaving Lady Serilda seething in her wake.
Not far off, the human noblewomen were no less scathing in their own way. Queen Eldra, the wife of the human king, sat poised in a regal gown of deep red velvet, her sharp eyes appraising the fae and siren women alike. "I find it amusing," she said quietly to one of her human ladies-in-waiting, "how they flaunt their magic as if that's all it takes to win a king's heart. But can any of them truly understand the art of human grace, of wit, of charm?" Her words were soft, but their intent pierced like a blade.
The elven women nearby caught her comment, and a faint chuckle came from one of the high-born elf ladies, her eyes like polished emeralds. "Oh, the humans do love to remind everyone of their 'charm,'" she said, her voice lilting with amusement. "It's quite endearing, really. Even when they age, they seem to hold onto this... optimism."
A few fae women stifled laughter behind their hands, clearly enjoying the barbed exchanges. It was all a game—an endless dance of veiled insults and barbed compliments as the noblewomen vied for attention, not only for themselves but for their daughters.
More taunts followed, a swirl of sharp tongues that turned even the compliment of a gown into a competition. Every glance, every flutter of a fan, held double meanings.
Then the herald's voice rang out again, and the room's energy shifted once more.
"Zarafea, daughter of... a physician?" the herald announced, pausing as if uncertain. His voice faltered, and several heads turned toward the entrance in confusion, trying to catch a glimpse of the newcomer.
The music dipped for a moment, as if even the musicians had taken pause to see who this stranger was. All eyes followed the figure moving through the shadows near the hall's entrance.
She emerged from the dim light, gliding into the room with a grace unmatched by any mortal. Zarafea was breathtaking. Her gown, a delicate swirl of shimmering silver and the faintest blue, clung to her in perfect harmony, as though the fabric itself was an extension of her form. Each movement caused the material to ripple like water, catching the light from the orbs overhead, and casting a soft glow around her. Her hair, a cascade of midnight, tumbled over her shoulders, framing her impossibly beautiful face, though dulled compared to her divine origins.
As she walked, every eye in the hall turned toward her, conversations quieting to murmurs, and then to stunned silence. She wasn't just beautiful; she exuded an otherworldly aura, one that sent a ripple of unease through the fae and human guests alike. Something about her presence felt... different. Dangerous, even.
Zarafea's gaze lifted, her glass-blue eyes locking onto Asher's from across the room. For a split second, his boredom lifted, replaced by a flicker of something else—curiosity, perhaps. She dipped into a deep curtsy before the thrones, holding his gaze, unflinching and composed despite the scrutiny of the entire hall.
The silence stretched, until Asher finally spoke, his voice carrying across the vast hall.
"Rise."
And with that, the ball resumed, the music picking up again, but now the energy had shifted. Whispers filled the air, nobles exchanging curious glances, the mystery of the evening now centered on the strange woman in silver who had captivated even the king's wandering eye.
But for Asher, the night had taken a more interesting turn.