How Do You Do, Sire?

At once, the lively chatter in the grand hall came to a halt. A hush fell over the crowd as all eyes turned toward the grand entrance.

The Emperor and Empress stepped forward, the very embodiment of power and grace. The Emperor carried an air of undeniable authority, his mere presence commanding respect. His deep crimson cloak, lined with gold embroidery, cascaded over his broad shoulders, complementing the dark navy regalia that spoke of his years as a ruler and warrior. Though time had left traces upon his face—faint lines of wisdom and age—his sharp golden eyes still held the piercing intensity of a sovereign who had seen both war and peace.

Beside him, the Empress was a vision of refined elegance. Though the years had graced her with gentle wrinkles, they did little to diminish her beauty. Her silver-blonde hair, swept into an intricate updo, gleamed beneath the chandelier's golden glow. The deep blue gown she wore, adorned with delicate embroidery of silver vines, clung to her frame in a way that exuded quiet sophistication. The regal poise with which she carried herself, the soft yet knowing gaze in her eyes, made it clear—she was a woman who had ruled beside the Emperor not just as his wife, but as his equal.

"...And His Royal Highness's esteemed companion, Lady Juliana de Vespera Estelon!"

A brief pause followed the announcement, the murmurs of the guests barely contained. Then, the next pair stepped forward—the Crown Prince and the woman rumored to be his future princess consort.

My gaze locked onto them.

Lady Juliana was breathtaking. Her soft pink hair, cascading down in loose waves, framed a delicate face that seemed almost ethereal under the chandelier's glow. She moved with effortless grace, each step measured and elegant. The gown she wore, though traditional in its silhouette, was anything but ordinary.

A true masterpiece of craftsmanship, her gown was a vision of elegance—pristine white with delicate hues of pink seamlessly woven into the fabric, creating an effect reminiscent of cherry blossoms carried by the wind. The bodice, tailored to perfection, shimmered with intricate silver embroidery that caught the light with every movement. The square neckline, modest yet flattering, framed her collarbones gracefully, while soft sleeves draped just below her shoulders, revealing a hint of skin in a refined manner. The skirt cascaded like a flowing waterfall, pooling behind her in a delicate train that embodied the very essence of royal grandeur.

Then my gaze shifted—to him.

The Crown Prince moved with effortless grace, his presence commanding yet approachable as he escorted Lady Juliana through the hall. His arm rested lightly against hers, his hand steady and assured. As they walked side by side, he offered polite smiles to the nobles they passed, exchanging brief greetings with the effortless charm expected of a future emperor.

Even from a distance, my eyes remained fixed on him. He was as striking as ever, his presence undiminished by the grandeur around him. His attire—an immaculate white ensemble—fit him as though it had been woven from the very essence of royalty itself. Every stitch, every gilded detail exuded an air of both majesty and precision. Gold embroidery traced the edges of his high-collared jacket, forming delicate, intricate patterns that shimmered beneath the chandeliers. The royal crest, embroidered onto his chest, gleamed like a mark of destiny. Unlike Lady Juliana's gown, his attire bore no pink hues, yet together, their matching white attires spoke volumes. A pair that had been chosen. A pair that belonged.

Instinctively, my gaze dropped to my gown—white, adorned with gold accents and a delicate scattering of blue crystals. It stood in stark contrast to the sea of noble attire surrounding me—deep blues, rich burgundies, and opulent golds. No one else wore white, save for the prince, his partner, and me.

The realization crept in like an uninvited shadow. Had I unknowingly drawn a comparison between myself and the prince's esteemed childhood friend, his chosen companion for the evening? Would my choice of color stir unwanted whispers, fuel speculation I hadn't intended? In this moment, an uneasy thought took hold—I looked as though I had intentionally mirrored the prince's attire, as if making a silent statement I had no right to claim.

But then, just as quickly, I dismissed the thought with a quiet exhale. What was done was done. There was no use dwelling on something that could not be changed. Besides, my style—my presence—was my own.

I was lost in thought, my mind drifting amidst the low hum of conversations and the golden glow of the chandeliers. But then—just as the Crown Prince passed by—his gaze found mine.

Time stilled. The world around me dulled into silence, and for a fleeting moment, there was nothing but him.

My heart stopped. And then, all at once, it restarted—fast, erratic, a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I sucked in a breath, but it barely reached my lungs. I couldn't look away. Nor did he.

His eyes held mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. And then—he smiled.

Not the polite, practiced smile he had offered the other nobles he passed. This was different—subtly curved lips, a gaze that smoldered just beneath the surface, something unreadable yet undeniably striking. There was a warmth in it, something deeper than mere acknowledgment. Something that made him look even more handsome—if that was even possible.

Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he nodded at me.

It was instinct—thoughtless, automatic—that made me nod back. That was all I managed. No smile, no words. Just a stunned, breathless reaction.

And then he was gone. His gaze shifted forward, his attention returning to the grand hall as he continued his steady, elegant stride. Step by step, he walked toward the elevated seats where the royal family would sit, settling just below the thrones of His and Her Majesty.

Yet, long after he had passed, I remained frozen, my eyes fixed on the space he had occupied only moments ago—staring at nothing, staring at air, as if the echo of his presence still lingered there.

Oh, gods, help me. I whispered to myself.

Marian's voice jolted me from my thoughts.

"Hey, Aerin, what was that?" she asked, her tone laced with curiosity.

I blinked, feigning innocence. "The what?" I asked, as if I had no idea what she was referring to—even though I knew exactly what she meant.

She didn't bother answering with words. Instead, she mimicked the prince's earlier nod—except hers was exaggerated, her eyes squinting dramatically, lips curling into an impish grin that stretched nearly to her ears, her head tilting far too much to one side. Arms crossed, she radiated pure mischief.

"Pfft!" I burst into laughter. "Stop that—you look absolutely ridiculous."

Turning away from her antics, I started toward a nearby servant to exchange my empty wine glass for a fresh one.

Marian and Cassandra trailed after me.

"Yeah, what was that, exactly?" Cassandra pressed, her voice tinged with intrigue.

"Nothing!" I insisted, my voice firm. "What exactly are you both trying to imply? Didn't he only nod in their direction?" I gestured toward Erol and Cedric, who still lingered where we had stood moments ago. As if to shift the burden onto them, I let the assumption fall—pretending it was them the prince had acknowledged, not me.

"Weren't they imperial knights?" I added.

"Well, Cedric is," Marian conceded.

"Right?" I said, as if that settled the matter. By then, I had already retrieved my new glass of wine and was making my way back toward the group.

Marian, however, was unconvinced. "Oh, I don't know," she mused, her voice playfully conspiratorial. "The atmosphere felt different for a second there, didn't it, Cassandra? Like there was… something unspoken. Something mysterious, yet I can't quite put my finger on it."

Cassandra nodded thoughtfully. "I agree. The prince's demeanor shifted, if only for a moment."

"You're imagining things." I waved a dismissive hand. "What would have been different? He was just greeting us as any prince should. It's his duty."

That's what I told them—but inside, my thoughts wavered.

Because I had noticed it too.

For a brief second, something had shifted. The look in his eyes, the subtle curve of his lips—it hadn't been the same polite acknowledgment he gave to the others.

But of course, I couldn't tell them that I had been alone with the prince in my chambers earlier. And I certainly couldn't confess the utterly embarrassing situation I had put myself in.

More than that, I couldn't even be sure if what he had said was meant sincerely.

"We are friends now."

He had said it so suddenly, in response to my challenge. But had he truly meant it? Or had it merely been a convenient answer in the moment?

The thought gnawed at me.

And yet, as we made our way back toward Erol and Cedric, I chose to let it be. There was no point dwelling on something I couldn't quite grasp—not now, not here. The weight of unspoken thoughts lingered in the back of my mind, but I pushed them aside, focusing instead on the present.

As we rejoined them, Erol raised a brow, swirling the wine in his glass with a knowing smirk. "Done being the center of attention?" he teased.

Cedric chuckled beside him, shaking his head. "You do have a way of drawing all eyes, Aerin. Even the ones you wish wouldn't linger too long."

I rolled my eyes, feigning indifference. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Marian and Cassandra exchanged a glance before breaking into knowing grins.

"Oh, but you do," Marian said, tilting her head toward a particular direction. "We've noticed Lord Vellian stealing glances at you since earlier, and a couple others , too." she continued as she scanned the room.

Cassandra smirked. "Poor man has been trying to work up the courage to approach, but it seems Cedric over here is keeping him at bay."

I blinked, following their gaze discreetly. Sure enough, Lord Vellian stood across the ballroom, lingering near a group of nobles but casting occasional glances in my direction. The moment he caught me looking, he quickly looked away, pretending to be deeply invested in whatever conversation he was engaged in.

Cedric scoffed, taking a slow sip from his glass. "If he's afraid of me, that's his own problem. I haven't even done anything... yet."

Erol let out a low laugh. "You don't have to, my friend. One look at you and the poor bastard looks ready to flee."

I sighed, shaking my head. "You're all being ridiculous."

Marian gasped, placing a dramatic hand over her chest. "Ridiculous? Aerin, we are simply looking out for you! If Lord Vellian ever finds the courage to step forward, you must tell us immediately. We shall be watching this unfold."

I groaned, covering my face as they all laughed at my expense. The conversation soon shifted back to lighter topics—gossip about the latest courtly scandals, upcoming gatherings, and musings over the extravagant fashion displayed at tonight's banquet.

Despite their teasing, I found myself smiling. The tension from earlier faded, replaced by the warmth of familiar company. Whatever had transpired in that fleeting moment with the Crown Prince—his gaze, his smile, the inexplicable shift in the air—I decided to let it rest, at least for now.

I scanned the room in search of my father, but he was nowhere to be found. Who leaves their unmarried daughter unescorted at a grand ballroom?

My question was quickly answered when a family knight stepped to my side.

"My lady, I am Edwin. His Grace had an urgent matter to attend to, so I will be escorting you for the remainder of the banquet."

I sighed but nodded in understanding. My father—the ever-busy duke. It was nothing new.

"Good evening, Sir Edwin. Please take care of me," I answered politely.

Cassandra pouted, linking her arm with mine briefly. "Ah, Aerin, I would stay with you, but you know—duty calls."

She meant the unspoken duty of noblewomen at banquets—socializing, solidifying connections, gathering whispers of gossip, and keeping up with trends.

"Ah, right!" I agreed with a nod, and Marian did the same before we all parted ways.

Now, I was alone, save for my knight trailing silently behind me.

I made an effort to join the circles of ladies engaged in lively conversation, but the moment I stepped closer, their chatter died. Some flinched, others bowed hastily, their eyes darting away. A few even trembled as if I were something to be feared.

I sighed inwardly. It was clear—no one wanted to talk to me.

"Excuse me, Sir Edwin, would you mind directing me to the powder room?"

"Ah, this way, my lady," he motioned with a respectful nod.

"No," I said quickly, shaking my head. "You don't need to accompany me. I won't be long." My tone was firm, making it clear I wanted to be alone.

I needed to breathe.

After freshening up, I let my feet carry me aimlessly through the halls, away from the suffocating atmosphere of the ballroom.

The corridor was long and dimly lit, the towering armored statues casting eerie shadows under the silver glow of the moon. The silence was thick, pressing in on me like an unseen force.

Then, not too far ahead, I noticed a large opening. Moonlight spilled through, illuminating the path beyond. Without a second thought, I quickened my pace and stepped outside.