~ Hours Before ~
The door swings open to my chambers, and Soren, my knight and jailer, lingers in the door frame, hazel-brown eyes dipping down to my overly exposed body. The dress was one I would never pick out for myself, yet one I was forced to wear by the dearest Queen Mother. Usually, Deyanira gave me an outdated and worn dress to wear, but tonight was different.
Not only was it completely backless with the barest of corsets at the bottom of my back, but the front was cut too low, between my breasts, revealing their curves. It would attract unwanted attention, which was precisely why Deyanira gifted it to me. More gossip would spread about how shameless I am. I cannot wear anything else, though.
A stone settles in the pit of my stomach as I glance at the vivid colour of my red dress. It really does not suit me. It is far too extravagant, and the stony expression on Soren's face told me everything I needed to know.
Soren's gaze returns to my face, expression blank, emotionless once more. "Your Highness, I am here to escort you." He offers me his elbow.
His dirty-blond hair is plaited on one side, kept in a half-up hairstyle, long, brushing along the bottom of his neck, revealing where two studs in his right ear are on show.
Knights in the North grow their hair long, and Soren wasn't any different. He was a little rough-looking for a knight, his features hard, hazel-brown eyes dark and intimidating, and the slight dust of dark stubble along his jawline was allowed. Dressed in his navy uniform, the traditional black sheep fur over his right shoulder, he looked between a thug and a general.
Still, he took his job seriously, no matter if it meant protecting and serving the Forsaken Princess.
"Let's get this over with," I sigh, tying the lacy red mask over my eyes before placing my hand in the crook of his arm, fingers light as though I might burn if we touched more—it was possible. Soren was unmated, and he previously stated he was dedicated to his knighthood back when I managed to break down a crumb of his walls years ago when I still tried to win people over to look past my reputation.
I have long given that up and did not pry into Soren's personal life again. The man was solid and stoic, as a guard should be.
Walking to the main palace, I embrace the chilly night air, the pebbling of my skin welcome after months of it, feeling like it might melt from my 'condition'. My gaze flicks up to the night sky, noting some clouds. "It will snow soon," I murmur, more to myself, yet Soren grunts his agreement.
After walking through the halls I was once familiar with from my younger years when I was allowed to wander and play around these quarters, we arrived at the top of the banquet hall. A herald waits and stands at attention upon my arrival. This is a masquerade ball—there is no need for him to announce our arrival, as that would strip away the mystery and excitement that come with the guests' hidden identities.
It was especially important tonight. The Moonlight Masquerade was a ball specifically for unwanted and unmated Weres. It was a humiliating debacle, particularly for someone like me. But that was the point.
Of course, everybody will know who I am, with or without an announcement. This was the Queen Mother's design. The herald need not ask for my name, but before I take another step towards what will be a mortifying experience, Soren halts me.
"Here is where I leave you, Your Highness." He bows his head before placing a silver mask over his eyes. "I will not be far from your side if ever you need me, though."
I nod my thanks and step forward into the glistening chandelier light. A staircase leads down from where I stand, connecting to the first floor, a balcony overlooking this hall already full of so many guests. They were an array of splendour and colours, Weres already mingling among each other.
Human servants walk among them, wearing the same attire, ties, waistcoats and silver masks like the one Soren wore.
Before the herald announced my arrival, the other guests had already turned their attention to me. A woman in red, platinum blonde hair and the most obvious detail that makes me stand out from the crowd: my clear blue eyes of Northern Royalty.
Of course, there is only one Princess the Kingdom of Ice and Claws knows of, and she is not one with whom to smile and converse.
"Princess Idalia Snorravik." I descend the stairs, my gaze ahead at the other end, where the doors lead outside to the courtyard. My escape route is blocked by the other guests, who are whispering loudly among themselves, aghast that I am here of all places.
"So shameless," they whisper while hiding their faces further behind fans.
We are all here, yet it is humiliating for me, the Princess, to be present more than them. It also came to my attention that I was the last to enter the hall. So, it was Deyanira's plan to make me arrive late and bring more attention to me than my dress already allowed.
I pause, casting a glance toward the balcony before scanning the crowd of mingling guests. Where is Deyanira? I had fully expected her to witness my humiliation, yet she was nowhere to be seen. A smile tugs at my lips as a thought clicks into place—this event is far too beneath the Queen Mother's stature to grace with her presence.
Still, there must be spies scattered among the guests. I will need to be vigilant.
A woman gasps as I walk past.
"She must be desperate to flaunt her body like that," another she-wolf whispers.
My eyes begin to roll before I can stop them. They are all Weres. They undress until they are naked to shift into the essence of their wolf. I might not have wished to wear this dress, but they were hypocritical.
"Don't do it. The Princess is not worth it," a man tells another as their eyes are locked on my backside and breasts. "It's social suicide."
As though I am cursed, the sea of people spread apart, allowing me to walk a fine line straight to a passing waiter and grab a glass.
"Your Highness."
I refrain from sighing. So it has begun already. Can I not at least down one drink before this little game of humiliation begins? No?
I turn to the woman to greet her politely when my hand knocks into something, and my drink spills. The woman gasps, and two of her friends rush to her side. Her rose-red dress is ruined by the red wine now emptied from my glass.
Her lips begin to wobble, tears springing to her eyes. "I am so sorry!" Her voice is louder than necessary. If her gasp and the act of being the first to greet me hadn't attracted attention already, then this certainly did.
"It should be me that apologises," I begin. "I did not know you were-"
"I know it is humiliating to be here with us, unwanted and unmated Weres, all beneath your station." She is now a ridiculous, bumbling mess, collapsed on the ground as if I had also pushed her over. Her words flourish across the other guests, casting me as the one who insulted everyone around us.
"I should know my place," she continued with a sniff. "I only wanted to become friends!"
Others begin to crowd us, whispering to each other, glancing at me and pitying Cecilia Thorne, a pretty little thing known for being a kind soul. Did she sell that soul to Deyanira? I do wonder what she has offered her.
"Get up," I murmur, bored. The damage is already done. There is no point in saving my reputation. "This is pitiful."
"Cecilia, please don't cry!" Her friends fret and glare at me. "How can you treat Cecilia like this, Your Highness?!"
I glance at my empty wine glass and turn around, ignoring them. Where is that server?
"Your Highness!"
More whispers about my degeneracy spread like wildfire as I make my escape from one of many scandals of the night. I glance over my shoulder, unable to hide my amusement as everyone fusses over Cecilia. These tricks of Deyanira are truly getting old and tiresome.
Still, they work. People back away from me as though I really am cursed, afraid they might catch it. That works for me! Please do leave me alone!