The roof of the palace was a curious place, a hidden sanctuary above the bustling debutante ball below. The air was crisp, and the stars twinkled like mischievous eyes peeking through the velvet night. Raze and Eclipse stood at the edge, their figures silhouetted against the soft glow of the ballroom lights, watching the nobles mingle like a flock of colorful birds, each one more ostentatious than the last.
Eclipse, arms crossed, leaned slightly over the edge, his gaze fixed on the scene below. "Master," he began, his voice low and slightly exasperated.
Raze, her expression inscrutable, remained focused on the hall, her eyes scanning the crowd like a curious puppy.
"Why did you bring the invitation letter if you weren't going to use it?" Eclipse asked, shaking his head as he observed the nobles holding glasses of wine and indulging in extravagant desserts. "You know, the king hasn't even entered yet."
"Just in case," Raze replied, her tone clipped, as if that single phrase could encapsulate the entirety of her reasoning.
Eclipse sighed, shaking his head. "Always with the short answers." He turned his attention back to the hall, where a noblewoman had just dropped her fan, causing a small commotion as she bent to retrieve it, her face flushed with embarrassment.
Raze turned to him, her expression unreadable, and simply looked.
"Master?" Eclipse raised an eyebrow, sensing the weight of her gaze.
"Nothing," she replied, blinking as she returned her focus to the hall, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.
Eclipse studied her for a moment, then asked, "Perhaps you never intended to use it?"
Raze remained silent, her eyes still contemplative as they roamed over the nobles, who were now engaged in conversations, laughter ringing out like the tinkling of delicate chimes.
"Sometimes, it's best to talk it out," Eclipse said, his voice softer now, as he turned his attention to the hall as well.
Raze, perplexed, shifted her gaze to him. "What do you mean?"
Eclipse chuckled, a lightness in his tone that contrasted with the gravity of their surroundings. "Everyone's got family problems, Master." He gestured toward the hall, where a nobleman was animatedly arguing with his wife over the proper way to hold a wine glass, their bickering drawing amused glances from nearby guests. "Even them."
Raze looked at him, her expression softening slightly. She lay back on the cool roof, staring up at the stars, her thoughts drifting. "I suppose they do," she muttered, her voice barely audible, lost in the night air.
The grand ballroom of the palace was a whirlwind of color and sound, with nobles mingling like peacocks flaunting their feathers. Blaize, dressed in a noblewoman's uniform that was both elegant and practical, darted through the crowd with the precision of a seasoned general. Her dark pink hair was neatly pinned up, and her expression was a mix of determination and exasperation as she barked orders to the maids flitting about like busy bees.
"Get someone to clean that!" she commanded, pointing at a spilled drink on the floor. "And table six needs more desserts! Why is it lacking?" She paused, her brow furrowing as she muttered under her breath, "Don't tell me they finished that many?"
Just then, a loud crash echoed through the hall, causing heads to turn. Blaize's heart sank as she recognized the unmistakable sound of porcelain meeting its untimely demise. "Are you kidding me right now?" she exclaimed, her voice a mix of disbelief and exasperation. She left the maids behind, striding toward the source of the commotion with grace, though her expression was anything but glamorous.
As she approached, she found a delicate vase shattered on the floor, shards glinting like tiny daggers under the ballroom lights. A group of nobles stood around it, their expressions a mix of shock and indifference, as if they were waiting for the vase to apologize for its untimely demise.
Blaize sighed heavily, kneeling down to pick up the shards. "Of course, it had to be a vase," she muttered, her fingers deftly gathering the pieces. Just as she was about to toss the last shard into the pile, a familiar voice cut through the air like a knife.
"Blaize."
She flinched, recognizing the infuriatingly charming voice of Luther Valen, the son of Marquis Valen. He loomed over her, a smug smile plastered on his handsome face, as if he were the sun and she was merely orbiting his ego.
She ignored him, focusing intently on the shards as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world.
"How improper of a maid to ignore a noble," he continued, leaning down further, his face too close for comfort.
Just then, another maid rushed over to help, and together they quickly gathered the shards, restoring a semblance of order to the chaos. Blaize stood up, brushing off her knees, only to find Luther's gaze lingering on her with a mix of admiration and something more unsettling.
"Do you require something?" she asked, her tone icy as she turned to face him, her eyes narrowing.
Luther's gaze lingered on her, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "How about you?" he whispered, his voice low and suggestive.
Blaize's lips curled into a cold smile, and she leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It seems you often forget that impropriety applies to nobles as well. Do I need to remind the 'Lord' what happens to improper nobles?"
Luther's expression shifted, his smile faltering as he gritted his teeth, the bravado slipping from his demeanor.
Blaize smiled sweetly and turned on her heel, leaving him standing there, momentarily speechless. "Enjoy the ball, Lord Valen," she called over her shoulder, her voice sweet as honey but laced with a hint of venom. As she walked away, she could feel his glare burning into her back, but she didn't care.
"Now, where's that dessert table?" she muttered, her eyes scanning the room for the next crisis to manage. After all, in a palace full of nobles, there was always something that needed fixing.