Chapter 330: The Elimination Ball
Chapter 329: The Elimination Ball
Lyria’s POV
The remaining days passed in a blur of preparation and quiet anticipation.
Before I knew it, the evening of the elimination ball had arrived, and I found myself standing before the mirror in my chambers, my heart beating with a nervousness I could not quite suppress.
This was the first ball I would attend.
Not as a shadow lurking in the corners.
Not as an invisible figure hidden behind a mask.
But as a Moon candidate.
As someone who was meant to be seen.
The thought sent a flutter of anxiety through my chest.
I had taken dance lessons from Lucian, and I prayed to the Goddess that I would not disgrace myself. The waltz was one thing in the privacy of the lakeside, with only the moonlight as our witness. It was quite another to dance before the entire court.
My maids had worked tirelessly to prepare me.
My hair had been arranged into a graceful bun, with soft tendrils framing my face. The gown they had chosen was a beautiful shade of champagne that seemed to catch the light with every movement I made. It suited me so well that my maids had gushed over it throughout the entire process.
"You look absolutely radiant, Your Highness," Pippa had said, her eyes shining.
Elara had simply smiled and adjusted the fall of my skirts with a satisfied nod.
I wore gloves that reached just beyond my elbows and a pair of earrings that matched the gown perfectly. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I scarcely recognised the woman gazing back at me.
She looked as though she belonged.
The thought was both wonderful and terrifying.
I carried a small dance card with me, upon which the gentlemen who claimed a dance would write their names. It was a tradition at such gatherings, and I found myself wondering how many names would appear upon it before the evening drew to a close.
Not many, I suspected.
The ballroom was magnificent.
Candelabras lined the walls, their flames casting a warm golden glow across the polished marble floor. Music drifted through the air, elegant and refined, played by a quartet of musicians stationed in the far corner. Tables laden with delicacies stretched along one side of the room, while servants moved quietly through the gathering, offering refreshments to the guests.
The nobility mingled freely throughout the ballroom. Some conversed with the suitor candidates, while others watched the dancers with practised interest.
I spotted Jacinta almost immediately.
She was already upon the dance floor, her golden hair flowing behind her like a river of light as she moved gracefully through the steps of a waltz. Her partner was none other than Marquess Hale, his hand resting possessively upon her waist.
They danced past me.
Marquess Hale’s gaze met mine for the briefest of moments.
Then he sneered.
It was a small, subtle expression, one that would have escaped the notice of anyone not paying close attention.
But I saw it.
I saw the contempt in his eyes.
The silent dismissal.
I did not look away.
I merely held his gaze and offered him the faintest hint of a smile.
He turned his attention back to Jacinta at once.
I did not mind.
Jacinta was welcome to dance with whomever she pleased.
I had no claim upon the Marquess, nor did I desire one.
His presence in my life had brought me nothing but pain, and I was perfectly content to leave him within Jacinta’s orbit.
I turned away, allowing my gaze to wander across the ballroom in search of familiar faces.
That was when I noticed someone approaching.
Marquess Rowan Blackvale of Duskwell made his way towards me, a glass of wine in one hand and an expression upon his face that I could not quite decipher.
He stopped before me, his gaze travelling over my gown with quiet appraisal.
"Princess Lyria," he said, inclining his head ever so slightly.
I returned the gesture.
"Marquess."
He took a measured sip of his wine before gesturing towards the dance floor, where Jacinta and Marquess Hale still moved together.
"I observe that you have not yet secured a partner for the evening," he remarked. "Have you truly been unable to find a gentleman willing to dance with you, or do you simply prefer to stand here whilst Princess Jacinta enjoys the evening?"
I opened my mouth to answer, but he continued before I had the opportunity.
"I suppose I could offer you a dance," he said, his tone suggesting reluctant charity rather than courtesy. "You must understand, however, that I do so only because I dislike seeing a lady standing alone. Surely you would welcome the honour."
I felt my jaw tighten ever so slightly.
Before I could answer, another voice drifted towards us.
"Must you seek admiration wherever you go, Marquess?"
Marquess Blackvale turned sharply.
Duke Thorncrest stood only a few paces away, his expression one of pleasant amusement. His dark hair had been neatly styled, and his warm brown eyes gleamed with unmistakable mischief.
I had to bite back a smile.
Marquess Blackvale’s face reddened.
"What precisely do you mean by that?" he demanded.
Duke Thorncrest’s smile widened ever so slightly.
"Surely you would not require me to elaborate in Her Highness’s presence," he replied smoothly. "Though, if you insist, I shall gladly oblige. After all, modesty has never been counted amongst your virtues."
One of the Marquess’s eyes twitched.
He stared at the Duke for several long moments, his jaw working as though searching for an appropriate retort.
None appeared to present itself.
At length, he bowed stiffly.
"If you will excuse me."
His voice was tight with barely concealed irritation.
Without another word, he turned upon his heel and walked away.
I watched him depart before turning back towards the Duke.
"W-what was t-that a-about?" I asked.
He laughed softly.
"I shall tell you," he replied, "but only if you agree to dance with me."
I raised a brow.
"W-why, Y-Your Grace, y-you already k-know I h-have p-promised y-you a d-dance. S-surely y-you d-do not t-think s-such b-bargaining w-would w-work o-on m-me."
He laughed again.
"I merely wished to ensure you had not forgotten."
I shook my head, unable to suppress my smile.
"W-why are y-you l-late?"
He placed a hand dramatically over his heart.
"I had to ensure I looked presentable for you, Your Highness. Surely you did not imagine I would appear before you in anything less when you are looking so extraordinarily beautiful this evening."
He gestured towards my gown.
"It is a magnificent dress. It suits you perfectly."
Warmth rose to my cheeks.
"T-thank y-you."
"And I must also say," he continued, "that you look so lovely this evening that I have no doubt every gentleman in this ballroom shall wish to have his name written upon your dance card."
I laughed softly.
"Y-you are f-far t-too kind."
"I am merely being truthful," he replied with an easy smile. "Now then, I do believe my name ought to be the first upon that card."
Before I could answer, the music changed.
A new waltz began.
It was slower than the last, its melody graceful and unhurried.
Duke Thorncrest’s eyes brightened.
With perfect elegance, he bowed before me.
"Your Highness," he said, his voice warm with playful formality, "might I have the honour of this dance?"