Three days in the palace pass unexpectedly quickly. From the Madame and the Crown Prince going over what my wardrobe is going to look like from now on, to maids vigorously preparing me merely hours early in the day preceding the ball later tonight. Like a whirlwind, it feels as if I had been thrust into a hurricane back and forth.
"Your Holiness, please close your eyes."
Lariette, who I've slowly become accustomed to in the past few days from her attending to me on the prince's order, is currently doing my makeup.
"Don't you think we should powder her face more…?"
"Her Holiness already has a nice face, putting too much will only contrast her natural beauty."
"However, Her Holiness is less pale than the other ladies…"
"Chevelle, Her Holiness is a woman of color. A proper night and morning routine does better than hiding her features with cosmetics that only apply to our pale mothers."
The soft patting of a makeup instrument, I suspect is also stuffed with feathers or cotton of sorts, upon my cheeks begins to cease. I've considered counting how many items within the palace contain feathers just to pity the amount of birds that have been killed throughout the years. All the while, another maid has begun loosely braiding the hair behind me. In the meantime, I've been sitting silently with my hands carefully folded over the other upon my lap. The only request I made to the Madame at the time about two days ago was that I didn't want a dress that was uncomfortable. As a result, the ball gown I have now is decently comfortable, though heavier than I thought. Rather than heavy around my chest or torso area—corsets I can bear with—I'd say the skirt has the most weight. From the undergarments underneath everything already, there were about two or three more layers of skirt fabric that I know not the name of. The top layer especially, the colorful layer that was a matching lavender with my torso, in turn also had decorative lace and ruffles dotted with small pearls. Matching ruffles were laid upon my chest and shoulders. At the very least I had short sleeves, puffed, and a pair of long white gloves that practically covered my arms completely.
"It's best that the Saintess wear long gloves for the most part. I'm no expert on divine magic, but if those scars can't be healed, then they have to be hidden. It may be jarring for the more traditional crowd and she may receive odd stares instead of looks in awe."
Shifting my palm, I glanced down at my hidden arms. I suppose some things do not change. Only the privileged have the ability to see scars as ugly or terrifying. Glancing up at the mirror in front of me, I take in my new attire for the night fully.
… It's pretty. I'm still reluctant about how bizarre and overblown the situation is with my apparently future wardrobe, but I'd lie if I said I hated dresses. When I was younger, before entering the temple, I remember eying the noblewomen in the streets with glittering eyes. After all, a lot of children dream at least once to wear something magnificent like this. Even in the outside world when we were battling corrupted beasts, I always liked the way the fabric flows easily with my movements. Since the dress I wore was imbued with divinity, it was also practical in a way that actually served divine protection against corruption.
I curl my fingers loosely, one by one. It's only been a few days for me, but I already miss it—that feeling of freedom. Climbing tedious rocky mountains, walking around through fields of abandoned weeds, treading through sand and snow… it was hard, but I felt alive again. And in that place, in those memories that fill me with such serenity, you were always there. Was it those places that gave me that sense of freedom and solace? Or was it because you were there with me, watching quietly with a gaze as warm as sunlight?
Clenching my fingers against my palm, I suck in a breath. Just a little longer.
"Oh." I forgot to keep my eyes closed, forcing them shut again nervously.
"It's alright Your Holiness, I've finished your blush already. All that's left is your rouge."
Rouge? My inward question is answered as I open my eyes. Lariette leans close and stares at my lips intently, lightly dabbing at them with a small crayon-like peach colored utensil wrapped in paper.
"Her Holiness is more baby-faced, so a lighter rouge is better suited."
"Aren't bold rouges popular nowadays though?"
"Did you see Countess Thistle last month? Very few can pull it off nicely. It looks childish if you choose one ill-fitted to your own complexion."
There's a wince from the maid looking through various accessories.
"I don't think anyone can consistently apply it as naturally as the Graces, however."
"That lavender of Lady Calliope's is one of a kind after all. I don't think anyone can compare to her serenity!"
"The signature vibrance of Lady Venus' red is also its own force to be reckoned with. Her business intuition is also scary."
"But," the maid who has been braiding my hair pipes up herself. "Lady Rishita's mature beauty shines most brilliantly, doesn't it?"
The maids become quiet before sighing in unison. In the meantime, I've been holding my breath hoping none of the ladies have noticed the flutter in my chest as well as the heat upon my ears in their gossiping. After what feels like an eternity, I can feel myself sigh as Lariette finally smiles to herself and distances her face. It's a miracle the warmth and embarrassment can be muddled by the tinted dust upon my cheeks. I hadn't been so close to another girl since before I joined the temple. I've never been good around pretty women, or at least beautiful people in general. That's what you get when you travel with men and an armored divine warrior for nearly five years.
"All that's left should be the perfume. Does Your Holiness have a scent you prefer?" Lariette asks.
"Um," I feel as if I am sweating. I know nothing about flowers or perfumes. There's incense and the smell of burning wood from campfires, but I'm sure that's different. "What… scents are there?"
"There's quite a variety," Lariette says, walking over behind me along with the other maids to look at the array of bottles. "Violet is always a popular choice. Lavender and Rosemary leave a lasting impression and are more herbal than sweet. Jasmine is strong, but equally floral and is always a good choice. Rose and Honeysuckle are more subtle but always a joy."
There's the clinking of glass bottles.
"Does Your Holiness like flower scents?" A younger maid asks.
"Yes? I mean," I sputter, trying to remember the last time I smelled a flower. Wildflowers count, surely? Dandelions are nice, though most think of them as weeds. I like the scent of nature, something lighter and natural. "Maybe not one that is too strong…"
"Orange blossom is a more youthful, citrus scent that isn't too overbearing," another maid pitches in. It's a bit overwhelming. Just like the dress, accessories, it's as if everything has to be an overbearing descriptor of me.
Suddenly, I recalled something in the depths of my memory. It was such a long time ago, about after I memorized the alphabet in sign and had begun learning small words. There was a child in a village we had stayed at who knew sign along with their mute sibling and was excited to communicate with Shivani.
"'Moonflower'?"
Shivani seemed surprised, jolting so when I came up behind them. Up until that point, I had never gotten the chance to see what Shivani referred to me. After all, no one else in our traveling party knew sign and Shivani would simply sign to me instead of talk about me. It had only caught my eye because the child had been staring at me intently after they had signed to the child. Shivani did not spell my name out individually, however.
"Is that what you call me?"
Shivani did not respond. In fact, I believe they had actually turned away from me. By then, we had long become accustomed to each other's habits so I could tell. Although they were covered from head to toe in metal, Shivani's embarrassment was as clear as day.
"That's sweet," I remember smiling.
Back then…
If I remembered correctly, back then things between us were ambiguous. We were good friends, friends who had bore our heart and soul to each other. Friends, who felt comfort in each other's presence. Friends, who had begun dancing around each other nervously simply because those feelings of friendship began to change.
And eventually those feelings burst, I recall, warm yet bittersweet grief brewing in my chest. Under Viaios Pass.
"Um… Your Holiness?"
"Oh! Sorry," I exclaim, forcing myself out of my reminiscing. If I succeed, it'll just be a bit longer. Just a bit longer until I see you again. "Does… Does a Moonflower scent exist?"
The women are silent behind me.
"Moonflower perfume…" There's the light clinking of glass. Out of the mirror's reflection, I can see them giving each other doubtful looks as they finally come across a small bottle. It's much smaller than the others, and less new as the glass is a bit more clouded compared to the rest. Lariette threw over a glance. "Is Your Holiness sure about this one?"
Maybe not as much now after looking at their expressions. But it's the only kind of flower I can think of that probably suits me—though I do not know what it smells or looks like.
"Yes, I am."
The girls look at one another for one last time before Lariette approaches and unbottles the cap. At the same time, there is a knock at the door.
"Um, yes?"
"Is Her Holiness' preparations complete yet?"
"She will be ready in a moment!"
♢♦︎♢
I am thankful I was given shoes with short and stubby heels. For the past fifteen minutes the knight in front of me has escorted me through the various castle halls in order to meet with the prince. I was used to walking long distances, but I'd never worn heels in my life. Of course, the temple never expected me to, either. Why would you give high heels to the child you're sending off to war? Half of me is actually surprised they didn't send me off in heels. After all, I left the capital with a cloak sewn with gold. It was better that way though, because neither Father nor the King sent us off with money so the first thing we did was pawn away the expensive vanity I was decorated in. Kaspar was throwing a fuss at first since he saw the garbs as a sacred gift from Father, but we needed the money the most. I think for that first year we were struggling a lot financially, and only ever camped out. Traveling in general became much easier when Zen joined our group, him and his mysterious connections and money from that shady information guild…
But Zenith wasn't a bad person. A weird adult, but a decent person. I don't think I could ever understand him. He was always loud and careless, yet extremely precise and agile. Like a man who was born with the ability to fight without an actual ambition or goal. Why did he travel with us, anyway? If Zen survived after the battle, he definitely wouldn't leave a mark in history. He was flashy, but I think he enjoyed being unknown. He was like the stars. Seemingly always bright and twinkling when you look at him, but easily blends into the background otherwise.
He was a weirdo, an un-adultlike adult.
"Plegh," I vaguely recalled.
"Oh? What is the matter, littlest Maya?"
It was a long time ago, and so small and insignificant, that I'm not sure why it comes to mind. We were gathering information about the area in a tavern, and he ordered me an un-alcoholic drink.
"It's too sweet," I remember mumbling while pushing the mug away.
"Oh, I just ordered you what I got. Do you not like sweets?" I looked at him for a long time with a scrunched expression before shaking my head. He had a major sweet tooth, disgustingly so. I was always surprised that he had such healthy teeth. He looked at me thoughtfully for a while before the curves of his lips fell ever so slightly. "Not even food preferences carry on, huh…"
"???"
And so he returned to his usual, goofy grin before roughly messing up the hair on my head, guffawing as he spoke.
"Alright, alright! Don't worry, next time I'll surely get you something sour! Or bitter? Whichever you desire, littlest Maya!"
That was a lie, for many times to come, of course. Though, for an un-adultlike adult, he may have been the only adult who treated me and Shivani as we were—children. Being a decade older than us probably helped.
"Your Holiness." The knight in front of me finally speaks, it seems. "His Highness is waiting up ahead."
We are stopped just before a corner that seems to lead to a larger, main hallway. I narrow my eyes, suspicion rising. "You're not coming with me?"
"My orders end here."
A bit weird. He stands still waiting for me to pass him. As I cautiously take a few steps forward, I note his uniform. It's different from the knights I saw before. It's barely noticeable, aside from the dark obsidian stone like a badge pinned to their capelet. Did that palace servant from a week ago and the knights from three days ago have that?
Keeping that in mind, I turn the corner and proceed through the larger hallway. It's empty, which adds more to my unease and suspicion, until I squint and see a mildly familiar figure further down the hall. My shoulders lower and loosen as a relieved sigh escapes me.
As I run while carefully grasping the sides of my dress to not trip, I call out to the golden haired man, hair in his signature neat braid.
"Your Highness!"
At the sound of my voice, the crown prince turns his head abruptly in a smile. It looks as if he's about to call out and even wave over in return since the hand to his side begins to raise immediately. But it freezes in place stiffly, and the smile on his face falls as his eyes seem to fully meet mine. I give him a confused look as I slow next to him.
"Uh… is something wrong, Your Highness?"
His green irises move up and down, eying me completely for a moment. The strange halted expression on his face fades away quickly and is replaced with a grin. He raises his hand in an open gesture.
"No, apologies. Shall we head to the ballroom, Your Holiness?"
After offering a quick raised eyebrow, I shake it off and place my hand on his with a smile.
"Is it far? It was already a long walk from the dressing room to here." As we begin to turn a corner and continue on for a few steps, he gives me an odd look laced with humor.
"Long walk? Wouldn't her Holiness be used to walking by now after saving the empire?"
Right. Still need to get used to that change.
"It's less about the walk, and more of the unbearable silence…"
A light chuckle comes from the prince's throat. "Altan is more of the quiet type. But Your Holiness doesn't have to worry, the ballroom is just a bit further."
"That's a relief…" I sigh. The light muted clacks of my heels on the carpeted marble flooring resound dully. As we draw closer to the doors leading to the ballroom, my nerves finally seem to catch up with me. "Can we go over the plan again, Your Highness? I haven't forgotten. Just… need reassurance."
His straight laced eyes waver over to me for a moment before returning forward.
"If Your Holiness desires so," he begins. He takes a moment to gather and simplify his thoughts. "We are to enter the ballroom together, me as Your Holiness' escort. Many will greet me after we descend, but that will quickly fan out. Because this is your first official public appearance, that in itself will draw the nobles' attention to you. As a result, it will give you the opportunity to meet and converse with nobles in close proximity to easily find your 'Unknown'."
"And are you sure I won't need to dance?"
His Highness chuckles.
"This is a casual ball hosted by the imperial family. The only one who would be able to force you to dance would have been my late mother. Because of your rank, you have the power to deny any who request without backlash." The prince gives a small, half-hearted laugh. "In addition, no one is expecting Your Holiness to dance. For tonight, you are a guest attending as yourself, The Saintess. Think of yourself as… a spectacle. You are not in the same league as them, and thus not burdened with the same expectations a common noblewoman would carry in these types of social situations."
He turns his head slightly toward me as we approach the large doors.
"Of course, if you decide to attend more balls, this will obviously change."
"Yup. Got it." My heart is pounding in my chest. It's resounding in my ears, and all sorts of things are crashing down on me at once. I am a spectacle for nobles to gawk at, once again. It's a familiar, dirty feeling. Instead of being covered in a gold lined cloak, I am now covered in equally glittering silk. My role as the Saintess should have been treated with sanctity, yet Father treated each instance of me going out as a way to show off to the nobility and royal family. And now, I am doing the same to myself. But this is all to find them—to find Shivani. It's alright. I don't mind. If becoming a spectacle is what it takes to find Shivani, I will perform over and over again.
After going over the details of the plan in my head again, a small but very important detail escaped me completely—so much so that I feel foolish at how long I had gone without seeking it.
"Your Highness, it is now that I've come to a very embarrassing problem."
"What is it?"
"I do not have the slightest idea of what your name is." The crown prince's footsteps halt for a moment as well as the hand underneath mine. It is then that the prince begins to burst out into genuine laughter, his formal persona shattering instantaneously for that small moment. Heat crawls up my neck and I can feel it swarm around my ears in embarrassment.
"Well—my dear Saintess," he stutters as his cackling melts into a grin. "You're just going to have to see when we enter."
The large doors open before us, pouring a brighter and warmer light into the hallway. Muffled sounds from beyond become clear as we gradually step into the chandelier lit ballroom's platform, raised higher in ascension with carpeted stairs crawling up the sides only to meet halfway down the middle.
"Entering—His Highness the Crown Prince, Iliazo Kalpana Ouranos and Her Holiness the Saintess, Mayari ka Surya!"
Iliazo. Iliazo. Kalpana must be his divine name, then. Most noble children are taken to the temple to get their divine name from the Pope, royalty I assume being the same. Traditionally, Surya bestows them through the Pope's divinations. Of course, that meant every divine name in my father's generation were fabrications. Repeating the prince's name in my head, I glance over to him as we turn to walk down the stairs. Divine names are reserved only for those not in the temple, deriving from the old language in the Divine Surya's reign. Those in the temple such as the Pope and myself are given Surya's name directly as Surya's blessing. Illiazo Kalpana Ouranos, huh?
Dream-like imagination, I try to remember vaguely. It doesn't fit him, yet also does?
The various ballroom conversations begin to quiet ever so slightly, the heated stares starting to overwhelm me. It's familiar, eerily so. The prince's words couldn't be any more true; it's as if they are watching a spectacle. Even so, I continue to smile, my fingers stiff against the prince's palm. Gloved fingers underneath my palm curl, darting over quickly to his reassuring smile. As the carped upon the stairs ended, the soles of our shoes clacked at the bottom of the staircase where a small crowd of nobles in extravagant suits and dresses began to approach.
We part here, and then…
I walk past the Prince, my fingers slipping away from his palm, before he suddenly catches a hold of my wrist. It was such a sudden movement that I stagger backwards. Turning my head, I look at him awkwardly.
"Your Highness..? Is something wrong?"
Prince Iliazo's frozen green eyes widen as if suddenly realizing what he had just done. He quickly lets go, the familiar polite smile on his face once again.
"Apologies. You just…" I look at him with a raised eyebrow before he shakes his head. He holds his hands up with a grin. "Never mind, go on! I have people to converse with, after all."
Curiously, I let my eyes linger a moment longer before turning and walking further away through the crowd. For a moment, he had muttered under his breath—something I could just barely make out through the resumed ballroom conversations muddled around us.
"What a familiar scent."
I quickly shrug it off as I brace myself at the sight of people already eagerly approaching me the moment me and Illiazo split off. The first to make a move is an average middle aged man in a snugly but not oddly fitting tailcoat.
"Blessings and glory to The Saintess. It is an honor to be graced with Her Holiness' presence this fine night," he says at first, making sure to bow before continuing. It still strikes me with discomfort and unease, how naturally it comes to others to prostrate themselves before me. Even back then, when my job as the Saintess was even more prevalent than in this era, no one ever bowed or curtsied to me. It's strange. The people of this era never lived through the time where people, rich and poor, were plagued by a fog of fear and death from corruption's beasts. And even if I was destined to lift that veil, divinity if not proformative was seen as folly to the nobles of my era. That's why neither the king nor my father spared anything our way when we left to do our actual duty in saving the continent—our performance had ended, and neither could gain anything. We mostly helped the poor on our travels after all, as those in the outskirts and countryside had fallen to corrupted beast attacks most.
I suppose there is a reason for it though, I surmise. To these people, I am direct proof of what's almost a fairytale come to life.
But, I am not a myth or fairytale. I may be deemed the daughter of god, but I am not a divine. I may exist in fairy tales or be seen as a miracle, but I will never be seen rooted in reality by my own kin.
"... Please, rise. There is no need for such actions, I am merely a guest to such a festive event after all." The man looks up to me before straightening his back.
"While on such a topic, if I may be so bold," he coughs. What dark and bushy eyebrows. "Does Your Holiness intend to stay throughout the entire night?"
"Who is to say?" I smile politely. "I am still not very accustomed to the environment of this era, so please do not hold it against me if I retreat early."
That's a satisfactory answer, right?
"What was that about retreating early?" A noblewoman's smooth voice pitches in. She's aged gracefully with short faded brown hair framing her cheeks and pleasingly attractive age lines beside her surprised lips lightly tinted a more neutral red. Upon her neck is a single string of fine pearls so as not to distract from her more naturally plump face. Her dress seems much more layered, poofier than mine and—via a quick glance—other ladies, of a more muted color and devoid of pattern. I can see why, it's as if every article and accessory she's worn is simply to draw attention to her hypnotizing, opalite eyes. "Oh my dear, you've only just arrived, Your Holiness!"
"You've misheard me, Madame," I correct with a smile. "I was simply telling this gentleman that retreating early may be possible, as I do seem to tire easily these days."
A lie, somewhat. Now that two have approached me, it seems other nobles have grown more comfortable with coming closer and joining in conversation—overwhelmingly so.
"Your Holiness, pardon me, but…"
"Your Holiness, is it true that…!"
"Your Holiness, what do you think about…"
"Your Holiness…!"
My mind begins to spin and I can feel myself fluster at the sudden surge of people, staggering a bit as it overwhelms me. I try to retain a polite smile, wrapping my head around the individual questions involving me. But it all is beginning to blur together, making me dizzy and confused.
"I apologize sincerely, but could you please repeat…"
"All of you, control yourselves! Have you so quickly lost your dignity, and have resorted to behaving like common street children?"
A woman's voice interrupts, bold and filled with self-assured confidence. My eye is drawn away immediately to a woman around my height approaching, long and wavy sunkissed strawberry blonde hair rippling behind every dignified step. Light airy bangs lightly curl inward slightly past her eyebrows, parting in the middle to allow a clearer view of her face. Her fair skin devoid of blush allows her piercing rosen viper-like eyes and lip rouge to passionately shine through, stealing your attention. One quick glance around the room and I can tell no one dares to attempt the kind of crimson red she evokes, her magnificent and boldly red gown decorated in rubies with gilded accents. The image of a maiden bewitching the world at her feet conjures in my mind, along with a befitting and familiar word—Venus.
"If you continue to behave like starved commoners, you'll overwhelm the poor thing."
Her dark heels clack against the polished ballroom floor closer to me, leaning over with a fan pressed against her chin as she eyes me intently, long lashes shadowing her gaze. Normally someone like this would overwhelm me, the confident air she carries and her beauty alone. But my awestruck eyes dim as words continue to spill from her mouth carelessly. Bite your tongue, and bear with it.
"Hm. This is the Saintess everyone's made a fuss over? Well," she huffs, backing off and turning her head with heavy eyelashes. "At the very least, she has a decent face."
Just a few simple, offhanded words from her and I can tell there is a shift in the small crowd around us. Especially the young noblewomen, their presence almost withering as their excitement visibly falters like a flickering candle. Those little reactions, unconscious and instinctual, is already enough to tell me what kind of power she wields. A brilliant, one of a kind rose nurtured in a beloved garden outshines any others, after all.
"Lady Venus," a more calm and collected voice, neutral and almost cool in tone pools out.
I almost didn't notice, as my gaze was instantly caught by the rose-like noble lady. But my attention is captured once again, an opposite beauty accompanying her with an entirely different demeanor. The noblewoman's darkened lavender hair is more straight in texture, silky and smooth like a veil behind her. Only a few strands and delicately cut blunt bangs frame her face, her skin somehow paler than Lady Venus', a cooler tone like a porcelain doll's. She has thinner eyebrows and short eyelashes, but her gaze is equally petrifying with sharp, rubellite tourmaline eyes and a unique lavender rouge. Rather than Lady Venus' passionate and bright presence, the noblewoman beside her is more of an ethereal and quiet beauty, mystifying in appearance yet somehow unclear just like the moon's reflection upon water. You could almost call her gaze upon you cold, or is it just uncaring?
"Inciting needless excitement is tiring."
Lady Venus then bites back, "Everything is tiring when it comes to you, Lady Calliope."
It's a sharp, casual tone. Is that something you can so easily say to someone's face? Lady Calliope doesn't even flinch. Lady Venus steps away for a moment, curtsying ever so slightly.
"Blessings and glory upon The Saintess. I am of the Kaimos Countdom, Venus Kaimos, the..."
I don't miss the strange pause, a small hiccup of what seemed like reluctance.
"... second, daughter."
"... At ease," I simply reply with a stiff smile. Those in lower rank greet those of higher status in such a manner, while those who are of equal status or of closer relationship greet each other more personally. I only know that because Father prided at the nobles practically groveling beneath him. He also would have rather died than to refer to me as an equal so I had to greet him in a formal manner, too. The current pope greeting me in general surprised me since usually the one of higher rank isn't supposed to greet the lower ranked person.
Of course, I'm not used to being the recipient of such a formal greeting. At all. So I can't help but squirm away ever so slightly.
Beside Lady Venus, Lady Calliope curtsies lightly herself.
"Calliope Sirenia of the Sirenia Dukedom."
For a moment, I thought she was stifling a yawn. Her introduction was less detailed than Venus', more to the point. I also vaguely note she does not greet me formally, pleasantly enough. That could mean a few things—that perhaps she does not care, or that she counts herself and Venus as a pair?
A small glance at Lady Venus' abhorrent expression tells me it may… be none of those.
"Lady Calliope, must I remind you to uphold noble decorum? Do you truly wish to compose yourself like this crowd of excited, boorish children?"
Although I am completely inexperienced in reading nobility, even I can sense the building discord as her words rattle on. The lady herself isn't ignorant to it either.
Lady Venus in her passionate rouge clicks her tongue. "What? Am I wrong? The only nobility who properly greeted Her Holiness was the esteemed Marquess Perímene!"
"But Lady Venus…" the lavender haired noblewoman calmly begins. "You spoke crudely to Her Holiness before greeting her as well…"
The viper-like blonde seems to freeze for a fraction of a moment.
"Lady Calliope is correct in this matter, Lady Venus. Even if you are a dear friend, it remains impertinent to condemn others for acts you, too, have committed."
It's a woman's voice—smooth with a warm hum, a bit lower in tone. Level, not as bold and demanding as Lady Venus'; yet in just a single sentence holds just as much, if not more, power. However… there was a certain pleasantness in her voice. One of graceful elegance—similar, yet so very different, to Lady Calliope's. The woman did not need to shout for her dignified voice to be heard. I could tell in the way the nobles around us began to quiet, but not in the way they did when Lady Venus spoke. There was an almost collective sigh that rippled among the crowd. Lady Venus' expression shifts to what I'd almost say is similar to a pout, while Lady Calliope lowers her eyes. Even the pair of beautiful noblewomen who made their grand entrance seemed to step aside and part like waves at the sound of her voice.
As her heels clacked upon the polished crystal-like ballroom floor, the golden sheen of her ball gown's fabric swayed softly with each step she took. Underneath the top aureate fabric donning a delicate rosen pattern, intricate lace frills feathered the bottom of the gown's petticoat, gingerly dancing across the reflective marble. The same kind of lightly cinched lace spread across her shoulders and above her chest. Lining her bodice are beaded lines of small, pristine white pearls, matching the string of pearls decorating her brooch and choker. Her brooch itself seems to be made of a dark, dull material to give emphasis on the white rose engraved into it. It's strange. The minimal use of glittering gemstones somehow makes her allure all the more grand.
In contrast to her very light colored and radiant gown, the dark of her long and wavy hair is enchanting. An almost purplish, violet hue that glistens a rosy pink upon the chandeliers' gleam. It's akin to sunrise—no, more like when the sun falls back beyond the horizon at dusk, and the iridescent sky's crimson fades into night. It's all consuming, the way the waves of her hair are like the flickering of a flame in eternal darkness. A few sections of her hair are divided into separate delicate braids, collecting behind her and forming almost a rose behind her head.
As she gradually approaches me, I can feel my breath hitch up into my throat. Even from here, I can see how smooth her skin is from her face alone, a warm reddish-brown, as her hands are gloved with silken white. She's a little more than half a head taller than me. Her face is a bit more broad, a dorsal hump on her nose, and what looks like a small red mark on her forehead. Her upper lip, more full in comparison than her lower, glistens ever so slightly in the light. Like the other two attractive noblewomen, the rouge upon her lips is a unique color, a berry-like magenta. Unlike the other two though, while equally bold and outstanding, the rouge of this woman's feels most natural on her. Finely applied with an exquisite touch, rather than a display of uniqueness, it seems to amplify her natural charm.
But, what I find most mesmerizing are her eyes. Just above a small dark mole on her right side, lay a treasure. It's different, not really gold, yet just as precious. Underneath the dark lashes with the slightest tint of dusk, the woman's eyes are like crystalized honey with an intelligent amber gleam. They don't quite glitter like the faces of a polished gemstone. Her eyes feel more like a glass ball containing the ocean's tides. Swaying back and forth, melting into each other like the sun's reflection upon the waves' surface at sunset. But it's not a rough storm, no, the sea is calm and tranquil on a clear day. It's as if I am being sucked in, consumed by the swirl of colors. A certain air of elegance sets her apart from the others. Something about the way she holds herself, the way she breathes softly yet holds herself firm. The woman's image is easy on the eyes, yet I can't bring myself to look away. Rather, is it the fact that I do not want to? I find it difficult to breathe, yet simply gazing upon her breathes life into me. Can a woman's presence be so breathtaking, to where words like 'beautiful' seem insulting?
The woman's eyelids close as she grasps a delicate pinch full of her ballgown's skirt, extending that arm while lowering herself slightly in a curtsy with the opposite hand hovering against her chest. Her pronounced lips thinly coated in berry-magenta rouge part slightly in time with her breath, sharp marbled honey orbs barely peeking from underneath her fluttered eyelashes. The gentle intensity from her gaze is easily enough to set off the flush of heat I've been feeling upon my cheeks, and I can't help but take an uncertain step backwards.
"Blessings and glory upon her Holiness, Mayari."
"Uh… uhm, yes, at… ease. You are Lady Rishita, I assume?"
I can feel my cheeks warm more at my sudden inability to form words. The woman's eyes blink once before she straightens her posture back to its original state. Folding her arms over the other, she gazes at me contemplatively before her lips spread into what looks like a mildly amused smile with a vague tilt of her head.
"It is a great honor that Your Holiness knows of me, given your awakening being most recent."
"Lady Rishita's mature beauty shines most brilliantly, doesn't it?"
What that girl said was an understatement. A mature beauty? Obvious enough. Brilliant? Definitely. And yet, and yet—no, I don't think anyone's words could have prepared my heart.
My only immediate response is to laugh awkwardly with a hand raised.
"Oh, no—it was just moments ago when I heard of you. I'm still very much ignorant to nobility, so…"
"Even so," Lady Rishita trails off, making the grand nerve-wracking decision to approach me more. My breath gets caught up in my throat and I find myself stiffening as she comes closer. It's noticeably quieter around us, and I can only pray no one is watching as intensely as I think. I just can't help but act like a fool. Sharp inhale. My mind is in disarray, spinning with a haze at being around someone so blindingly divine. Why are the nobility filled with pretty women? "The fact Your Holiness has found my name memorable is an honor in itself, no?"
"P… perhaps?"
The dusken haired noblewoman is god knows how many inches away before her amused smile seems to fall just a bit. Her eyes narrow and eyebrows furrow, her lips parting softly as she draws in a breath.
"... Moonflower?"
There's a hand light on my shoulder gently pulling me backwards.
"Lady Liakada, please refrain from making the Saintess uncomfortable."
I glance over to see a few golden strands near my shoulder. Following the familiar braid up to the slightly messy head of blonde hair, my eyes meet his green.
"Your Highness…?"
He offers his usual goofy smile after a moment. Oh god, I got distracted from the plan. I can feel my cheeks finally cool off as I straighten my line of sight. Lady Rishita has straightened her back, even backing a step or two away. Her smile has dropped in the few seconds I've looked away, a more serious and callous expression replacing her amusement. Lady Rishita's eyelids fall and she lowers into a curtsy once again.
"Blessings and Glory to Your Highness."
"At ease." It's his usual tone, but what is it? It's just a bit different in feeling somehow in an unexplainable way. The hand on my shoulder falls away and he smiles at me. "I apologize for touching you so suddenly, Your Holiness. Please forgive me for that, but I'm sure you must be overwhelmed."
There's a strange look in his eyes.
Oh!
"His Highness is right. It was enjoyable talking to everyone, but I do think I need to rest for a moment," I say with a wry smile.
"There are a few balconies, you can take a quiet breather out there."
"Your Highness." Lady Rishita addresses Iliazo in an almost… firm tone? Her eyes are less lustrous, a colder sheen in opposition to the honey-like warmth from only a moment ago. "It has been about an hour since the ball has begun."
"... Yes. It is about time to start the first dance. Shall we reconvene then, everyone?" Prince Iliazo turns away broadly with a smile in an open gesture. I keep my head lower as the nobles more closely around us begin to erupt once again in conversation with one another. Iliazo glances over at me for a split second with a nod, and I gradually step away as groups seem to form. As I make my way carefully past crowds of people, my eyes can't seem to leave them.
Tearing my eyes away, I hold my breath quietly while maneuvering through until I reach what I believe is one of the ballroom walls. To my relief, between two large supportive pillars from the very tall ceiling to the marble floor is a double glass door. Dragging my fingertips against the window-like panels, I trace down to the brass handles. Before I push down, the growing melody of the orchestra's music begins to echo throughout the hall. Looking over my shoulder, while a good number of the nobility gathered linger around the sides of the ballroom, the groups of nobles in the middle of the hall have split into numerous pairs. Among the men and women bowing to one another, a couple in particular catch my eye, radiating more brilliantly than the rest.
The music grows more spirited, and the pairs join together in calculated steps and turns. Even still, the pair in particular I can still easily spot among them all.
I didn't think the prince could dance. It's a vague thought that crosses my mind first. Naturally, as the prince he would be able to, but his demeanor really didn't strike me as what I expected of nobility. Lady Rishita's dancing is impeccable in itself, but in time with his is almost like…
"That's our future emperor and empress for you."
The quiet gossiping of nearby noblewomen—younger than me it seems—catches my attention.
"I was worried they had fought since they hadn't appeared in public for a while together, but here they are dancing perfectly in time with one another."
"That's a given of course! Lady Rishita has always been perfect for the empress seat. I don't think I can imagine anyone else beside His Highness."
"They've been betrothed since childhood, after all. I don't think anyone can—she is the Liakada Dukedom's only daughter."
So they're fiancés. But…
I think back to their interaction just moments ago. The strangeness I sensed from Prince Iliazo, and the change in demeanor from Lady Rishita…
With the inhale of a breath, I shake my head. Don't linger on business that isn't yours. I've done enough of that. Pressing the brass handle of the glass door, I push forward to have a moment of solitude, still in relatively close proximity to the people gathered inside the ballroom.
Yes. Enough distractions.
I suck in a breath, and with a slow exhale, focus on spreading out my divinity.
Shivani. Just a little longer.