Royal balls are an absolute pain.
I was tending to princely matters, when a servant barged in and informed me that Father specifically wanted me to attend the pathetic Masquerade Ball, he was hosting this evening.
I know it's not just for showcasing the crown prince to the whole kingdom and beyond, but also to find a suitable princess to rule alongside me.
I want to vomit my guts out.
Besides, the speech Father just finished giving was absolutely horrid. It took all of my willpower to not walk out of the room that very instant. I suspect he noticed my disinterest which is essentially why he heavily suggested I find a 'dance partner.'
At first, I was thinking of the princess of Earlington. But then I remembered how gossip is the only language she is fluent in.
So, I decided to wander around the ball room, and pick some random girl I'd never met before.
The one standing before me now wears a Greek-themed gown with subtle floral patterns imprinted into it. She also has flowers woven into her raven-black hair which is tied into a bun. She wears an eagle-shaped mask, and I can tell that she, too, has been dragged into this pathetic excuse of a ball.
We begin slow waltzing around the room, and she fumbles on the first step. Then on the second. Then, the third. And all those that come after.
"My deepest apologies, Your Highness," She mumbles with her head down. "I am not practiced in this form of dance."
Who in the kingdom doesn't know how to waltz? I nod, trying to hide my irritation. "It is quite alright. Forgive me for my ignorance, but may I ask which kingdom or district you come from?"
"I am the advisor to the duke of Rjok."
We dance some more around the room. Or try, at least.
"Dreadful, isn't it?" I say, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "All this effort just to parade around like peacocks."
"It certainly feels like a chore," she replies, her voice clipped.
"Let me guess, you're here because someone insisted you attend?" I smirk, leaning in slightly. "I can't imagine an advisor enjoying such frivolity."
Her eyes narrow. "Yes, this is an important event for my role," she replies, carefully. "As the advisor."
"I see," I say, feigning interest. "Advisors must have the most riveting lives, always at the mercy of others' whims."
She maintains her composure, but I catch a hint of annoyance in her gaze. "It has its challenges, Your Highness."
"Challenges? Or is it simply boring? I'd wager it's the latter," I quip, twirling her slightly, enjoying the way her irritation flares.
"Perhaps if you spent less time flaunting your title, you'd understand the weight of responsibility," she retorts, her voice steady.
I chuckle at her boldness. "Oh, I understand responsibility, believe me. But tell me, does your duke know how poorly you dance? It might reflect badly on him."
She frowns, clearly unamused. "I assure you; my skills do not define my worth as an advisor."
"Then perhaps you should work on that," I say, smirking as the music picks up. "It could make for an entertaining evening."
"Or maybe you could take this opportunity to learn some humility," she fires back, her dark eyes flashing.
"Humility? That sounds like a recipe for a dull evening. I'd much rather dance with a goddess than get lost in the mundane," I say, flashing a playful grin as I take in her costume. "So, do I get to know your name, or should I just call you Persephone? I must say, it has a certain ring to it."
She raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "You're quite full of yourself, aren't you? Isn't the crown prince supposed to be a bit more... dignified?"
"Dignified is overrated. Besides, it's not every day I get to dance with someone dressed as a goddess. Surely you can appreciate the honor," I say with a smirk.
Just as she opens her mouth to retort, the atmosphere shifts. A sudden commotion ripples through the ballroom, and then a piercing scream echoes across the room, cutting through our banter.