"First rule," the host began, pausing for effect as he scanned the faces of the duke's daughters, ensuring he had their full attention. "The duke's daughters must not watch each other's performances."
A murmur swept through the canopy. The rule seemed vague, so the host elaborated. "Before and after your performance, you are to rest in your designated tent and wait until you are called again." He gave them a moment to process this before continuing with the second rule. "Second rule: a maximum of three skills and a minimum of one must be performed."
The clarification seemed to settle most of the audience, but the host wasn't finished. "Third rule: any distraction during your performance will result in immediate disqualification. You will not be considered for the role of Crown Princess."
The girls exchanged uneasy glances, the gravity of the task weighing heavier on them now. Without hesitation, the host pressed on to the final rule. "Fourth rule: after your performance, you must return to your tent and remain there until the results are announced. No exceptions."
His gaze swept over them one last time. "That is all. My Ladies, you may now return to your tents to prepare. Regrettably, your mothers, the Duchesses, will not accompany you."
Alexandra's heart clenched as she glanced at her mother. Could she really do this without her? The reassurance of a mother's presence was irreplaceable, even if maids would be there to help. As her thoughts swirled, she caught Cleo's eye. The twins gave her a nod, their silent support shining through. It was time.
---
Each of the four Ladies was escorted to separate tents, prepared meticulously by the royal maids. Inside the canopy, discussions were already taking place about the order of performances, and soon the first name was called: Kiara.
Moments later, Kiara stepped onto the stage, her sleeveless purple gown flowing elegantly around her as she moved. She gave a subtle signal to the musicians, and they began to play a soft, enchanting melody. With grace and poise, Kiara danced, her movements like those of a goddess. She twirled and glided across the stage, flawless in her execution.
After twenty minutes of mesmerising dance, Kiara retrieved her flute, raising it to her lips. The melody she played was soothing, a tune that seemed to calm the very wind. To finish, she sang a hauntingly beautiful song, her voice wrapping the audience in its magic. Her mother, Duchess Theresa, beamed with pride, her heart swelling at her daughter's flawless performance.
Next came Cherish, who chose to sing and dance, captivating the audience with her passion and precision. Then there was Ashley, who performed a masterful mime. The crowd watched in awe as she mimicked the art of invisible barriers and silent tales, before closing with a graceful dance.
And now, it was Alexandra's turn.
She emerged from her tent, dressed in her Daghla—a striking black-red long-sleeved gown with intricate Ylzia symbols embroidered along its fabric. A wide belt cinched at her waist, and in each hand, she held a sword, gleaming under the canopy's light. The drummers began their rhythmic beat.
With flawless control, Alexandra spun on the spot, her swords cutting through the air with deadly precision. Her movements were a perfect blend of grace and power, her body flowing like water as she danced, each step a reflection of battle training and rhythm. The murmurs of admiration rippled through the canopy. Brione, her mother, was positively glowing with pride.
As Alexandra's performance continued, her sword brushed against her gown, slicing through the fabric and grazing her leg. The pain was sharp, but she didn't falter. Not for a second. She danced on, her face serene and focused. Only one person noticed the injury—Silverstein. From his throne, his eyes narrowed slightly as he observed her. She was remarkable.
After what felt like twenty minutes, Alexandra ended her performance with a sweeping bow, swords still in hand. The audience erupted into thunderous applause. Cleo and Cloe, who had helped her prepare, were practically beaming with pride. Their friend had outdone herself.
Alexandra bowed once more and exited the stage, disappearing out of the canopy with Cleo and Cloe trailing close behind.
---
"She was incredible! I've never seen a woman sword dance like that!"
"Isn't sword dancing reserved for men? She's amazing!"
"She's not just talented—she's beautiful too. She'd make a fine warrior."
"If she weren't the Duke's daughter, I'd have her marry my son in a heartbeat!"
From his seat, Silverstein listened to the crowd's chatter with a knowing smirk. Alexandra had impressed everyone, even him. He hadn't expected her to be *this* skilled. Then he remembered the way her sword had nicked her leg during the dance. Frowning slightly, he stood up, his right-hand man immediately at his side.
"There's a break before the second round. I'll take a walk," he said casually to his parents, who nodded their approval.
"Where are the ladies' tents?" Silverstein asked his attendant as they left the canopy. Without a word, the man led the way.
As they moved through the carnival grounds, villagers caught sight of the prince, squealing and blushing as they whispered among themselves. But Silverstein paid them no mind. His thoughts were elsewhere.
---
"You were *so* good out there, girl!" Cleo exclaimed as she and Cloe ushered Alexandra to sit on her bed inside the tent. "The way you spun with those swords—it was incredible!"
"Thank you, Cleo," Alexandra replied with a tired but pleased smile. She shifted her dress, revealing the small cut on her leg where the dried blood had already crusted over.
Cloe gasped. "You cut yourself?!"
"It's not a big deal," Alexandra assured them, her tone nonchalant. "No one noticed."
The twins relaxed a little, but Cleo wasn't satisfied just yet. "Let's get you something to eat before round two," she said as they rummaged through the tent, retrieving a small first aid kit to tend to the wound.
Just as they finished and the twins were about to leave, the tent flap rustled. Alexandra blinked in surprise as the Crown Prince himself stepped inside.
"Uh... Your Highness..." Alexandra stammered, rising to her feet, but Silverstein's voice stopped her.
"Stay seated. You're injured," he said, his eyes flickering to her leg. His right-hand man stood guard outside, and the tent flaps were closed behind him.
Alexandra chuckled awkwardly, trying to brush it off. "Oh, this? It's nothing. You didn't notice, did you? In the canopy, I mean…"
Silverstein's expression remained unreadable as he answered, "I did."
Her heart sank, but before she could react, he added, "Rest assured, no one else did."
Relief washed over her as she quickly grabbed a cotton swab and dipped it into the ointment, cleaning the cut. Silverstein watched her every movement, his gaze unwavering as she carefully applied the plaster.
"You should be more careful next time," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of concern.
Alexandra glanced up, meeting his gaze, and for a brief moment, time seemed to slow. Then, just as quickly, the moment passed. She nodded and smiled, "I will."