GRAND BALLROOM, KALINDI PALACE
"Breathe, charming lady. Just focus on me, your mind should not wander away when I am here with you."
To her surprise, her panicky body obeyed his words, calming her racing heart.
"I've been watching you all night. You seem like the only one who doesn't belong here." His words pealed in her ears like a melody.
They were set in position with their bodies almost hinged as one; the melodic strains of the stringed instruments enveloped them, the notes vibrating through the air like a gentle hum. The scent of exotic flowers wafted up, mingling with the sweet fragrance of Witnya's perfume, creating a heady aroma that intoxicatingly drew him in.
The golden light from the chandeliers spilled across the dance floor, casting a warm, honey-like glow on the couple, as if spotlighting their every move. Shadows danced around them, like, dark, ethereal wings. Witnya's gaze roamed over the stranger's attire, taking in the intricate details, the way the fabric seemed to shimmer in the light.
As she rested her hands on the stranger's shoulders, they trembled slightly. Her eyes darted away, shyly avoiding his gaze, a far cry from her boldness when he was a statue. His long jet-black hair swayed with each step, the fringes danced around his piercing catlike eyes, mesmerizing Witnya.
The stranger's lips curled into a subtle smile, and his eyes crinkled at the corners, giving away his amusement. His gaze held hers captive. "You have mesmerizing blue eyes; I guess you inherited them from your…mother." He whispered, his voice low and husky. His words sparked a warm glow across her face, and she glanced away, her long eyelashes fluttering shyly.
"You are right, kind lord. Thank you for your kind words." She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, her words carefully chosen. Witnya's gaze drifted back to his eyes, and she was taken aback by their transformation. The bright gray hue sparkled like a starry night concealed with a gauze, leaving her breathless. The stranger's eyes, with their piercing gray intensity, stirred a memory within Witnya – a memory of her nightmares, where dark clouds gathered and thunder rumbled ominously. A shiver ran down her spine as she wondered if this enigmatic stranger was connected to her darkest fears. Yet, as she gazed into his eyes, she sensed an unexpected calm, as if the storm had passed.
The stranger's eyes sparkled with mirth, and he leaned in closer, his breath whispering against Witnya's ear. "I'm not being kind, darling. I'm being honest." Witnya's heart pounded in her chest, her palms growing sweaty as she gazed into the stranger's piercing eyes. She felt a flutter in her chest, as if a bird had taken flight within her.
Just as the music reached its climax, Witnya felt her movements become more fluid, her body responding instinctively to his lead. Yet, despite the magic of the moment, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. A flicker of unease danced in the shadows, like the faint whisper of a dark secret.
The spectators watched, transfixed, as Witnya and the stranger moved in perfect harmony. Witnya's movements were effortless, but her heart raced with the weight of the spectators' gazes. She sensed their disapproval, their whispers and pointed fingers, like a palpable force.
Lady Jessamine appeared at the edge of the ballroom, her eyes narrowing disapprovingly at the stranger. Witnya's heart skipped a beat as she sensed her stepmother's displeasure. She detected a hint of calculation behind her stepmother's gaze, a reminder that Lady Jessamine's interests rarely aligned with hers.
Just then, Witnya's velvet gown rustled softly as she moved, the fabric whispering against her skin like a gentle breeze. She twirled, her movements graceful and unselfconscious. Her long blonde hair sashayed in the air, resembling flares of the golden sun.
Witnya felt an inexplicable sense of ease with the enigmatic stranger, despite knowing nothing about him. This contradicted her innate principles of self-preoccupation, piquing her curiosity. With a perfunctory grin, she introduced herself, her warm breath dancing across the soft fabric of his clothes. "I am Witnya Von Babur, daughter of Baron Kazeem Hansel Von Babur, the esteemed lord of Soravand Barony."
The stranger's smirk deepened, his eyes darkening like caverns. "Your name has a nice ring to it, Witnya. Rare, just like your beauty." He paused, his gaze holding hers captive. "You can call me Azazael. I'm from a neighboring country."
Witnya's curiosity glinted. "Neighboring country? Do you mean 'Oulton'?"
She figured out that majority of the guests in the ballroom were from Oulton and Azakherjan. The crests on most of the carriages in the carriage shed said it all. The Soudan went to the extent of inviting foreign aristocrats to his daughter's party, she could even see some aristocrats from other continents.
Azazael wasn't stunned that Witnya could guess his nationality. He nodded and saw that the young girl was curious to know about Oulton. Oulton was a multiethnic nation, located in the center of Nightingale Continent. It was the greatest country in Nightingale continent, being more than fifteen times larger than estimated total area of the landmass of Jagnubia.
"Oulton is a land of contracts," He whispered, his voice low and mysterious. "Beautiful, yet treacherous. Not a place for delicate girls like you."
Witnya's scowl belied her growing fascination. 'What secrets lay hidden in Oulton's mysterious landscape?'
As they danced, Witnya's imagination ran wild. She envisioned a land of dark magic, where vampires, witches, and humans lived together in a delicate imbalance of power. It was a common knowledge that Oulton consists of three major tribes: the Vorgath tribe, which consists of the black witches and white witches, the Arachne tribe, which is made up of vampires, and the Mor'Dhul tribe, which comprises the humans. The thrill of the unknown beckoned her, and she found herself drawn to Azazael's enigmatic world.
Meanwhile, Sharlota emerged from the powder room, her stained gown now presentable. As she entered the ballroom, the murmurs and gasps of the crowd caught her attention. The dancing couples parted, revealing Witnya and Azazael at the center, their eyes locked in a captivating dance.
All that Sharlota could see was a strikingly glossy blonde hair that swayed to a slim waist waltzing gracefully through the electric air. The gray mask worn by the handsome man that covered the upper part of his face bore an uncanny resemblance to dark clouds and flashes of lightning that looked menacing to the eyes.
"Witnya…?" Sharlota was stunned, the same expression apparent on the faces of the spectators.
"Aunt Jessamine, who is that masked man dancing with Witnya? Is he a nobleman? I want to dance with him…" Gisselle whispered to her aunt with a pout. One could tell that the man was a very handsome and wealthy aristocrat from another country, as the air exuded by him reeked of gravitas. He held a lot of attention, as he was the only masked aristocrat in the ballroom. His movements were refined as he had a slight smirk on his face. His complexion was smooth and his thin rosy lips moved subtly when he spoke to Witnya.
Lady Jessamine was also curious.
'Who is Witnya dancing with?' She found herself asking the same question.
"I never knew that your youngest daughter could dance so lovingly." A high-status aristocrat buttered up to Lord Kazeem who schooled his emotions. Lord Kazeem was aware that Witnya didn't take her dancing classes seriously. It was a stun to him watching his youngest daughter dance like a virtuoso performer with a man who wasn't from Jagnubia. He had watched the dance with a mixture of pride and unease.
Lord Kazeem smiled, "Oh yes, my daughters are decent in the art of dancing, and I cherish dancing with them." He kept his words short. As much as he wanted connections to expand his barony, he wasn't the type to sell off his daughters for his personal motives. He could guess what was in the scheming minds of the noblemen close to him.
"I heard that she will be turning sixteen in the middle of autumn this year. Kazeem, you were hiding such a beautiful jewel in your manor all this while…how dare you…" Another listlessly laughed with his protruding belly dangling during the laughter. He was podgy, with his greasy receding strands of hair parted to his left.
"What a coincidence, my son, Faizal, just returned from Raikkonen Academy and he will be celebrating his nineteenth birthday in the season of autumn, he would take over my viscountcy in next to no time. Kazeem, don't you think Faizal and your daughter are fit to be a couple?" The podgy man added with a crooked grin.
"You lords are really overconfident, huh? My youngest son, Calais, has always talked about a beautiful blonde from Soravand Barony. I never knew he was talking about your daughter. He is really interested in her, you can have the four lands located in the far south of Nyet'val Village as part of the troth gifts, just say yes to make Calais a fulfilled man." A stylishly dressed man with frizzy gray hair and hooded eyes grimaced at the other men.
Lord Kazeem was flabbergasted at the noblemen who were subtly trying to buy him off with connections and material gifts. Faizal Fyodor was the son of Lord Degas Saki Fyodor, he was going to take over the viscountcy and if he marries Witnya, Witnya would be a viscountess. Her life in the future will be comfortable and assured. However, Faizal could be said to be a puppet in the hands of his parents, so marrying off his daughter to him would make him relentlessly worry for her wellbeing.
The four lands located in the far south of Nyet'val Village were very large, fertile and rare mineral resources were recently discovered in them. If he could add the lands to his possession in Soravand Barony, he would climb through the statuses and became a viscount or an earl in seven years or less than.
His head throbbed as he thought about the pros and cons of marrying his daughter off at such an early age. He also thought about Sharlota who would be celebrating her official debut into the social order the next year, suitors had been coming for them but he had to accept their intentions when his daughters were of nubile age and womanly maturity. He also wanted them to experience the feeling of being loved as he wanted them to make right choices when choosing their life partners, he didn't want to impose his choices on Sharlota and Witnya. Moreover, that has always been his late wife's wish before her death.
Just then, the trumpets were blown aloud to herald the arrival of the royal family into the ballroom. The concubines of the Soudan and the Shahzadehs were the first group of people to enter the ballroom, the Shahzadis and Shahzadehs soon entered. The Soudan and the Sowdanesse were the last to enter the ballroom, their presences causing the people to cheer and applaud.
Just before the arrival of the royal family into the ballroom, the music faded, Azazael's gaze lingered on Witnya's face. His eyes seemed to hold a secret, a message only she could decipher. With a subtle smile, he bent and kissed the back of her hand. The touch sent shivers down her spine.
In Jagnubia's social traditions, a man kissing a lady's hand signified two things. It was either he was interested to be the lady's friend or he wanted to have a romantic relationship with the lady.
"Lord Azazael…" Witnya mumbled, her face reddened as she grasped his intention.
A fair-skinned man in a black robe with gold trimmings approached Azazael, whispering something in his ear. Azazael's face turned grim, the air around him growing ominous. Witnya sensed the disturbance in his calm expression, even behind his mask.
"It was a pleasure dancing with you, milady." He said with a smirk, his voice deep-toned and mysterious. He fixed a black rose flower at the side of her hair. "Perhaps our path will cross again."
'I hope so.' Witnya thought with a blush as her right hand reached out to the rose flower tucked in her hair.
With that, he turned and vanished into the crowd, leaving Witnya feeling bewildered and intrigued.
The sound of trumpets blasted through the atmosphere, signaling the royal family's arrival, and that shook Witnya out of her daze. She quickly ran to the edge of the ballroom, watching the royal family members walk towards their canopied seats with much éclat. As the royal family took their seats, Witnya's gaze drifted back to the spot where Azazael had disappeared, but he was nowhere to be found. She felt a pang of disappointment, wondering if she would ever see him again.
The fair-skinned man in a black robe with gold trimmings who had whispered something to Azazael earlier walked up to Witnya and bowed. "Milady, I had the pleasure of witnessing your enchanting dance with Lord Azazael," he said, his voice smooth and refined. "I must say, you two look perfect together."
Witnya's heart skipped a beat at the mention of the stranger's name. Azazael. It was a name that seemed to hold secrets and mysteries. The man's eyes sparkled with amusement as he continued, "Lord Azazael is…a fascinating individual. I'm sure you'll have the pleasure of making his acquaintance soon."
Witnya's curiosity was piqued. Who was Azazael really? And what secrets lay hidden behind his enigmatic smile?
As the man bowed and left, Witnya was enveloped by her thoughts and feelings. The sudden increase in chatter snapped her back to reality.
She turned to see Shahzadi Katiry Jameele Al-Romanov, resplendent in a lavish white gown, her bronzed skin and tightly curled hair glowed in the candlelight. The birthday girl's entrance was met with applause and cheers.
After a brief welcome speech from the Soudan to the noblepersons and guests in his palace, he declared that the celebration should kick off as soon as possible. Witnya took the opportunity to try some of the tasty snacks at the refreshment booth. As she approached the pillar near the booth, her eyes scanned the sea of faces.
That's when she spotted them – the Unflawed Three, renowned for their beauty, wit, and noble connections. As they approached her, their movements seemed choreographed, their laughter and whispers weaving a spell of sophistication and refinement.
"You must be Lady Witnya, daughter of Lord Kazeem Hansel Von Babur?" A lady in her late teens walked up to Witnya with two other ladies behind her. Who in Jagnubia didn't know the powerful trio? They were known as the 'Unflawed Three' because of their exceptionalities and elitism. They were the daughters of some high-status noblepersons, had the best education as prim ladies and had various connections all over the country. They were very beautiful and had admirers beyond Jagnubia. They were the exemplary models of every young girl in Jagnubia.
Witnya looked at them with a hint of displeasure in her eyes. When she thought she was going to have some solo time, some guests came looking for her. She never remembered being affiliated to any of them in any way.
"Yes, I am. How can I help you?" Her displeasure was hidden behind a demure expression. Her eyes were fixed on the toothsome lady who seemed to be the leader of the famous clique. She was Elani Sheehan, brown-haired with upturned yellowish-brown eyes and porcelain skin. She was a clever beauty with the highest prospects of marrying into royal families as her brothers married the princesses of other countries and she was the daughter of Most Noble Duke Ishmael Waugh Sheehan.
The Unflawed Three exchanged glances, their eyes sparkling with curiosity. Elani's gaze lingered on Witnya, her expression a mask of polite interest. She smirked, reminiscing how one of the Shahzadehs stared at Witnya. She also witnessed the dreamlike dance between Witnya and Lord Azazael. To her, she felt that Witnya was becoming a budding peril to her glory. The ceaseless whispers about Witnya's elegance echoed in her head and her expression distorted.
"Do you think you have the qualifications suitable to 'help' us?" A lady with a chubby build, tanned skin and a dainty accent cladded in a bulbous gown, a stark contrast to Elani's elegance, interjected. Her voice was heavily laced with disdain and sarcasm. She was the daughter of the Marquis of Kaldorva, Lord Maakah Lloyd.
Elani giggled. "Kaliope, stay calm. You'll frighten the little girl." Elani derided, delighting in the uneasiness felt by Witnya.
Witnya's smile faltered for a moment, before she regained her composure. "What do you want from me?" She asked, her tone neutral, but her eyes flashing with annoyance. She had always heard about the nuisance from highborn cliques such as the Unflawed Three, she never expected to be a victim of such.
"We were wondering about the gentleman you danced with earlier. Who is he?" The third lady asked bluntly, not beating about the bush. She was Yazmin, the flaxen-haired daughter of Marquis Agra and a member of the trio. She had a round face and a nice figure, her flaxen hair was tied in a simple fat bun and she wasn't dressed to the nines like the other ladies. Her father, Marquis Agra, was one of the Sowdanesse's main right-hand supporters; hence, the third lady had the strongest backing in the clique.
Witnya was astonished. 'So they're curious, huh? They want to know more about Lord Azazael.'
"I don't know much about him. All I know is that he is not from Jagnubia." Witnya shared some of the truth she knew.
Elani and Kaliope exchanged skeptical glances, their faces a picture of disdain. "Isn't that obvious? He even gave you a cheap flower, and you're already in the seventh heaven. Do you even know his name?" Kaliope snorted.
"No, he didn't tell me his name." Witnya lied. She felt that the three ladies were up to no good.
The flaxen-haired lady named Yazmin scowled. "Maybe she really doesn't know much about him. He gives the impression of being a peculiar nobleman who wants to be reserved; at least, we know that he's not an ordinary person. If you have any useful information about him, don't hesitate to share it with us."
Witnya nodded.
'Share, my foot! It's obvious you ladies want him to yourselves.' Witnya snorted.
Elani's eyes narrowed, her voice dripping with conviction. "It can't be. I've met him before, in Oulton. I couldn't get a full glimpse of his appearance and now, I couldn't, but I sense he's…different."
Witnya was astonished to hear that. All that she could hypothesize was that Elani Sheehan was smitten by Lord Azazael. Which lady wouldn't be smitten by him? He had a flawless appearance that looked very pleasing to the eyes, he was also well-heeled and he might be a romantic person just like the male leads in most romance tales.
Kaliope's gaze roamed over Witnya, her eyes narrowing as she took in Witnya's dress and let down hair. She was angry because one of the very few men she admired couldn't stop talking about how fabulous Witnya was.
Yazmin watched the interactions with keen interest.
"I think we should meet our birthday girl, Shahzadi Katiry. She must be expecting our visit; we can't afford to make her wait."
The Unflawed Three's conversation was laced with underlying tension, their words dripping with latent hostility. Witnya's instincts screamed at her to be cautious, to keep her distance from these noblewomen. As they excused themselves to visit the birthday girl, Witnya let out a sigh of relief. Her appetite had vanished, replaced by a desire for fresh air and solitude.
A youthful voice interrupted her thoughts. "Milady." Witnya turned to see a teenage boy with a boyish charm, his eyes glistening with friendly curiosity.