The Ball of Valmont was more than a celebration. It was the kingdom's heartbeat a night where destinies twisted like silk and secrets glittered beneath every smile.
At the heart of the kingdom, the Celestine Spire gleamed silver towers crowned with sapphire domes, glowing softly under a thousand enchanted lanterns.
Tonight, the palace breathed with life. Carriages of crystal and enchanted glass lined the outer courts. Velvet banners marked the arrival of every noble house. Floating gondolas shimmered through the sky, carrying guests from faraway kingdoms.
Inside the marble grand hall, a herald stood at the top of the grand staircase, his voice echoing through vaulted ceilings. "Announcing: Lord Talvren of the House of Ironlight, with Lady Mirielle of the Sapphire Isles!" A tall, golden-haired man swept in with a woman trailing sapphire-blue silk. They smiled but their eyes flicked, calculating, to every other noble in the room.
"Announcing: High Scholar Bram of the Silver Quill, Keeper of the Astral Library!" An elderly scholar with a cane and a glittering chain of silver scrolls shuffled through, mumbling to himself. His apprentice trailed behind, trying to adjust their too-big robes. "Master, your sleeve's caught on the" RIP. "…Never mind." By the champagne tables, a cluster of younger nobles snickered. "Did you see Lord Talvren's new cloak? Desperate for attention." "Please, you're one to talk. You bedazzled your shoes."
"It's called fashion, darling." Two sorcerers leaned over a balcony, watching the crowd swirl below. "Think anyone's going to die tonight?" one asked dryly. "Not unless someone spikes the wine." "I'm rooting for that scholar kid to trip over the king's robes." "Bet." Some guests arrived masked glittering gold, carved bone, delicate lace.
Rumors swept the room: "Did you hear? The masked figure in white is from the Eastern Empire." "No, they're the Flame Priest's envoy. Look at the embroidery."
"I heard the Valmont's are hiding something., maybe." "Hush! You'll get us cursed."
The Celestine Spire itself felt alive. Mosaic floors shimmered with enchantments. Columns carved with ancient constellations pulsed faintly with magic. At the far end of the hall, a massive glass wall revealed the starlit gardens outside where silver fountains danced in rhythm with the music inside.
Floating chandeliers dripped light like falling stars. The air hummed with layered sound: the rustle of silk, the clink of glasses, lilting strains of harp and violin.
As the herald announced the next names, a hush rippled through the crowd.
"Announcing: Princess Seraphina Valmont, First Daughter of Aurelis, and her honored guests…" The room stirred. Eyes turned. The music slowed. Seraphina entered first
Behind her: Kai and Mina. And Waffles, wearing a tiny velvet cape someone had forced on him. The herald struck his staff once, A sharp crack that cut clean through the music. Every dancer froze mid-spin. Silk whispered. Jewels trembled.
Breath held. The herald's voice rose, echoing through the gold-domed hall: "Announcing: His Highness, Prince Lucien Valmont of the Northern Dominion…"
A ripple recognition, fear spread like a cold tide. "...and his honored guest…"
"…Miss Maria Velyn of Eldermere." Silence. The kind that made the chandeliers seem too loud. Every head snapped toward the grand staircase. Lucien appeared first, descending like a storm wearing formal attire. He wore a tailored black coat lined with silver runes that shimmered like frost under torchlight. A high collar framed his sharp jaw. His hair longer than protocol allowed fell in dark waves swept back behind a silver clasp shaped like a wolf's fang.
He was dangerous elegance. Then Maria stepped into view. Gasps cut the air.
Her gown was a flowing white-silver, soft as spilled moonlight. Translucent sleeves shimmered with faint magic like stardust caught in fabric. Her hair, usually unkempt from running through library stacks, was braided with thin strands of crystal-thread.
She looked ethereal, nothing like the quiet academy girl who shelved forbidden books.
Lucien held his arm out. Maria hesitated, terrified then placed her hand in his.
They descended together. And that was the scandal. A prince escorting a commoner.
Not as a servant. But as a chosen guest. Seraphina stood near the center fountain, statuesque in an emerald gown that looked carved from gemstone. Golden wing-shaped pauldrons curved over her shoulders, catching the chandelier light.
A ceremonial longsword hung at her hip she had refused to come unarmed.
When she saw Maria, her face went white. Shock flashed. Then disbelief. Then something raw and wounded she buried so fast no one else saw it. She whispered, barely audible: "Lucien… how could you invite her?" Her eyes never left Maria. Queen Eleanor, dressed in midnight blue with a silver coronet, she tilted her head the slightest degree. Interest. Calculation. Recognition of a complicating factor.
A commoner at my daughter's coming-of-age ball? Lucien, what game are you playing? King Alaric Clad in black and gold, stern as carved granite.
His jaw tightened once. His eyes followed Lucien with a cold fury that made courtiers quietly step away from his aura. Cyrus of Mirehall Wearing teal velvet with storm-silver cuffs, he nearly dropped his drink. "Lucien brought a COMMONER to the Moon Ball?" He choked on air. "Mirehall is going to implode." Valen Dore, in midnight robes stitched with constellations that shifted like living stars, he muttered:
"That's the girl from the archives… He's either brilliant or suicidal." Mina, spinning in her borrowed sky-blue gown, she slapped her own mouth and squealed. "That's MARIA! OUR Maria!" Kai dragged her back before she could barrel into the royal procession.
And kai, in a black coat that fit him irritatingly well, he watched Maria with an unreadable, protective stillness. Not jealousy. A sense of danger. "This is not going to end quietly," he whispered. Whispers rose like venomous vines: "A commoner?"
"Has he lost his mind?" "Is this a political statement?" "Or rebellion?" "Who is she? What power does she have?" As they reached the last step, the orchestra shifted to a softer, reverent note. Lucien released Maria's hand only long enough to guide her forward with his palm at her back. A statement. A claim without words. Scandal carved into ceremony. Maria swallowed hard. Everything felt unreal.
The weight of silk around her body. Her voice broke quietly:
"Why did you bring me here?" Lucien didn't look at her, eyes already scanning the crowd like a predator mapping threat line. "You deserved to be here," he said quietly.
Then louder, colder: "And none of them can stop that." After positioning Maria carefully near Seraphina close enough for safety, far enough from the nobles' claws Lucien walked alone toward the dais. The room seemed to bend around him.
His coat trailed like a shadow. Every step echoed with icy authority. He stopped before King Alaric. Bowed. "Your Majesty." Cold silence. The king's words dropped like stones:
"You test the boundaries of my patience, Lucien." Lucien lifted his head, eyes bright and fearless. "Then tonight should be entertaining." A sharp breath from the queen.
A murmur through the hall. The king's jaw clenched so hard the air trembled.