Ivana's heels clicked elegantly on the marble floor as she led her entourage through the palace. Her ladies-in-waiting—Annalise and Liora—trailed behind, stifling giggles, as Ivana expertly navigated the maze of rumors, intrigues, and thinly veiled rivalries of the court. Today, she'd decided to slip some life into the palace; after all, it wasn't every day she had such a prime audience for a bit of mischief.
The topic of the hour was, unsurprisingly, her mysterious run-in with Edmund at the ball. The court had turned it into a tale of espionage, romance, and everything in between. Every twist of the tale brought a fresh wave of wide-eyed nobles hoping to catch a juicy detail from the princess herself. Ivana found it half-amusing, half-annoying.
As they neared the east hall, Lord Cedric—a young noble with an unshakable sense of his own charm—stepped forward, bowing extravagantly.
"Princess Ivana," he greeted, holding out a flower that looked suspiciously plucked from the garden. "A morning gift, a symbol of—"
"Is that a dandelion?" Ivana asked, cocking an eyebrow as she took it from him. "A bold choice."
Cedric's smile faltered. "I, er, thought it suited you, Your Highness. A symbol of resilience."
"Or perhaps impatience," she teased, handing it to Liora. "In either case, I thank you. Perhaps next time, something with fewer weeds?"
The other lords chuckled behind Cedric as he flushed, clearly unprepared for the jab. Ivana, however, had already shifted her attention elsewhere.
"So, Annalise," she said in a loud whisper, casting a knowing glance over her shoulder, "tell me, is it true that Lady Brienne was overheard suggesting that Lord Alden's wig is stuffed with… chicken feathers?"
Annalise smirked, following her lead. "Oh, indeed, Your Highness. She claims it explains why he's always preening in front of mirrors."
The nearby nobles burst into murmurs, trying to hide their smiles as they glanced toward poor, oblivious Lord Alden, who had only just entered the hall and was smoothing down his powdered wig with great care.
Then, as if perfectly timed, Edmund strode in. With his usual quiet confidence, he approached King Arthur, who stood nearby speaking with a few senior advisors. The king's eyes twinkled as he caught sight of his daughter's scheming expression.
"Ah, Edmund," King Arthur said warmly, "you're just in time. Ivana seems to be… raising the spirits of the court."
Edmund looked from Arthur to Ivana, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I had no doubt of that, Your Majesty."
Ivana gave him a playful nod, and they fell into their usual rhythm of banter. "Lord Edmund," she said with mock seriousness, "I trust you're here to report that you're finally planning something interesting?"
Edmund raised an eyebrow. "Interesting? I was actually here to question why half the court believes you're harboring a scandalous secret involving the dandelions of the royal gardens."
She smirked. "Well, that would be the work of our charming Lord Cedric." She pointed behind her, and Cedric flushed as Edmund's gaze fell on him.
"Ah, yes," Edmund replied with a hint of humor. "The famed dandelion. A bold move, Cedric."
Cedric cleared his throat. "Er, yes, well… sometimes the simplest things speak the loudest, wouldn't you say?"
"Indeed," Edmund said dryly, before turning back to Ivana. "And here I thought you were avoiding trouble for once."
Ivana laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, Edmund, you wound me. The court would be tragically dull without a touch of… strategic chaos. And besides, if I don't keep things lively, what will you do all day?"
"Perhaps keep the peace," Edmund replied, a smirk creeping onto his face. "It's quite the task undoing the rumors that follow you."
A glimmer of mischief lit Ivana's eyes. "And here I thought you enjoyed the challenge. I'd hate to think of you bored."
King Arthur watched with a smile, his eyes reflecting warmth as he observed his daughter. "Ivana, Edmund… it seems to me you both share a talent for attracting attention."
"Why, thank you, Father," Ivana replied. "I do try my best."
Edmund crossed his arms, shaking his head slightly. "Let's just hope that one day, 'attention' doesn't turn into… rebellion."
"Rebellion, Edmund?" Ivana laughed. "If anyone rebels, it's surely from sheer boredom. And that, dear Lord, is something I can never stand for."
They both knew this game well—words layered with meanings the rest of the court could only guess at, laughter exchanged with the barest hints of truth. As the court watched their repartee unfold, Ivana caught Edmund's eye, and they shared a glance that felt like their oldest secret.
"Well, Princess," Edmund said with a slight bow, his voice just loud enough for her alone, "you certainly make being royal… entertaining."
And with a small, secret smile, Ivana replied, "Oh, you've seen nothing yet."
At that moment, a fanfare echoed through the hall, signaling the arrival of a new group of nobles. Heads turned, whispers stirred, and Ivana took her cue to shift her attention back to her court. But the thrill of her exchange with Edmund lingered, setting her pulse racing in a way she wasn't about to let him see.
Annalise leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. "Your Highness, are we to believe that Lord Edmund is here… courting?"
Ivana raised an eyebrow, fighting a smirk. "Oh, please, Annalise. Edmund is here to court no one, except perhaps the royal treasury's patience."
Annalise stifled a laugh, and Liora joined in, casting a quick glance back at Edmund, who had moved on to greet a group of other nobles. Ivana knew their eyes were on him—and not because of his conversation skills. She couldn't deny it: in his subtle, composed way, Edmund had a knack for holding a room, a quiet magnetism she both admired and mocked whenever she got the chance.
Just then, a young page appeared at her side, breathless and wide-eyed. "Your Highness, King Arthur has requested your presence in the grand hall. There are… preparations to discuss for the upcoming ball."
Ivana exchanged a glance with her ladies, excitement sparking in her eyes. She knew what "preparations" meant: gowns, jewels, decor, and all the countless details that came with hosting a royal ball. More than that, it meant guests—foreign dignitaries, eligible nobles, and no shortage of mischief to be had.
With a graceful nod to the page, she gathered her skirts, her shining gown catching the light, and led her ladies toward the grand hall. As they passed, whispers followed in their wake. She could feel the buzz in the air, the anticipation of a night of dancing, intrigue, and countless suitors vying for attention. And if her father's earlier hints were any indication, one suitor might just be a certain Lord Edmund.
At the doors of the hall, she paused, casting a look back at Edmund, who had turned just in time to catch her eye. She raised an eyebrow, a silent challenge gleaming in her gaze, and then slipped through the doors, leaving him with the smallest hint of a smirk.
The night ahead was bound to be anything but predictable.
As the doors to the grand hall closed, Ivana was swept up in the shimmering whirl of preparations and whispers that filled the palace. Tonight's gathering wasn't another ball, at least not in the traditional sense. It was an exclusive assembly—one rumored to be for a very special guest. Her father had kept the details elusive, even from her, a rarity that only deepened her curiosity.
Standing beside her, King Arthur seemed almost amused by her unasked questions, his eyes dancing with a glint she knew too well. But before she could coax any answers from him, a hush fell over the hall.
The attendants parted, and the air thickened with anticipation as a cloaked figure strode into the hall, flanked by royal guards. The stranger moved with a quiet authority, his steps smooth and unhurried. Beneath the cloak, hints of deep silver embroidery glimmered in the torchlight, marking him as no ordinary guest. A single ring caught the light—a seal she didn't recognize, yet one that seemed strangely familiar.
Ivana held her breath, watching intently as the figure approached her father and exchanged a low, formal bow. King Arthur's expression softened as he welcomed the newcomer, though there was an undercurrent of tension in his smile. Whoever this person was, they were important—important enough to be kept secret even from her.
Without a word, the figure looked up, his gaze flicking to her with a sudden, piercing intensity that made her heart pound. In that brief glance, she caught the shadow of something… something familiar yet deeply unknown. Her father must have felt it, too, because he gave her a small, encouraging nod.
As she inclined her head, returning the stranger's gaze, he offered her a faint but deliberate smile before stepping back into the shadows, his identity concealed by his cloak and the hall's dim light.
In that moment, Ivana felt a thrill of intrigue like she hadn't felt in ages. She didn't know who he was, nor what his arrival meant—but she knew this was the beginning of something. And as she glanced back at her father, whose silence was more telling than any words