Victoria's seemingly casual yet profoundly wise invitation fell upon the ballroom like a stone cast into a calm lake, sending ripples through the subtly tense atmosphere.
She had not named either of them, leaving the choice to the two men. This not only offered both parties a dignified exit, but also served as a silent test—to see who best understood her intentions, and who would seize this rare chance for private interaction.
Prince Albert almost stepped forward instinctively. As a traditional European nobleman, he firmly believed that in a moment like this, as a prince of higher rank, the honor naturally belonged to him. It was his right—his dignity.
However, Arthur, who understood the princess's intention far better, reacted more quickly in this unexpected situation.
He did not adopt any competitive posture like Albert. Instead, he simply offered Victoria a gentle, understanding smile, then deliberately stepped back, increasing the distance between himself and the princess.
He turned to Prince Albert and made a graceful gesture of invitation—*please, go ahead.*
"Your Highness, Prince Albert," Arthur said, his voice not loud but clear enough for all to hear, "you have traveled far and you are the Empire's most distinguished guest. The honor of accompanying Her Royal Highness to admire the moon should naturally belong to you. I would not disturb your pleasant visit."
With those words, he bowed politely to both Victoria and Albert, then turned and withdrew gracefully into the crowd, leaving the stage entirely to Albert.
The entire assembly was stunned once again—Albert and Victoria included.
Albert had not expected this "rival in love," who had proven so sharp and formidable, to retreat so decisively and proactively. It felt as though he had gathered all his strength for a mighty punch, only to discover that the opponent had vanished at the last moment, leaving him striking empty air—an indescribably awkward sensation.
As for Victoria, as she watched Arthur's figure fade into the crowd, a fleeting, almost imperceptible hint of disappointment flashed in her beautiful blue eyes. But it was quickly replaced by deeper understanding—and deeper feeling.
She immediately grasped Arthur's intention.
He was not retreating. Nor was he conceding defeat.
He was using his actions to support her position—supporting the "gracious words" she had spoken moments earlier before everyone.
She had just declared that Albert was an honored guest, a bridge between royal families. If she had chosen to remain alone with Arthur while leaving Albert aside, she would have contradicted herself, creating embarrassment and earning a reputation for stubborn recklessness.
Arthur's proactive withdrawal elegantly resolved this dilemma for her in the most considerate and magnanimous way. He gave Albert all the "face," all the outward courtesy, while keeping the "substance"—that unspoken, profound understanding—firmly in Victoria's heart.
This subtle thoughtfulness, gentle as a spring drizzle, was far more moving to a young woman than any flowery speech or fierce competition.
*That scoundrel…* Victoria murmured inwardly, a mixture of affection and exasperation. She knew her heart had once again been completely stolen by him.
At last, under the gaze of all present, Victoria could only walk with Prince Albert onto the terrace of Buckingham Palace, wearing a slightly strained smile.
The moonlight on the terrace was splendid, yet Victoria's mind wandered. Albert stood beside her, speaking of German forests, Italian operas, and assorted anecdotes of European royal houses. He tried earnestly to display his erudition and brilliance, but to Victoria, those topics felt so… banal compared to the "visions of the future" and the "fate of the Empire" Arthur had once discussed with her.
---
Over the next two days of the ball, the atmosphere of London's high society subtly shifted.
Everyone could see that in the competition for the future queen's consort, although Prince Albert possessed every advantage of lineage and status, the mysterious young businessman Arthur Lionhearth had won the princess's unmistakable favor in a manner no one had foreseen.
For a time, ambitious politicians and nobles began wavering between the two sides, seeking the safest and most profitable bet for their futures.
Sir Conroy, meanwhile, like a wounded viper, temporarily withdrew to his den. Arthur's consecutive victories at court and at the ball, as well as his growing connection with Prime Minister Melbourne, made Conroy too wary to act rashly. He could only watch everything with cold, venomous eyes, waiting for the next opening.
All of London seemed to fall into an uneasy stillness—the calm before the storm.
And what shattered that calm was a piece of news everyone had anticipated, but none expected to arrive so soon.
King William IV had fallen ill.
The aging monarch, already in his seventies, saw his health rapidly deteriorate after presiding over the grand ball, which had exhausted him. The royal physicians tried every remedy, but nothing could slow the steady fading of his vitality.
A heavy cloud settled over Buckingham Palace.
The nerves of the entire nation tightened instantly.
Everyone knew what this meant.
An era was about to end.
And another era—the era of the new queen—was approaching with unprecedented speed.
The moment of royal succession was near.
For Victoria, for Arthur, for Albert, for Conroy… for all those at the heart of the vortex of power, this signaled the arrival of the final and most decisive confrontation.
All prior competitions, investigations, and strategies were about to become insignificant before this looming, fundamental shift in power.
Whoever secured the most advantageous position during the succession would become the true winner on the Empire's future chessboard.
When Arthur received the news, he was in his office, reviewing plans for the expansion of his factory.
He set the blueprints aside, walked to the window, and gazed into the foggy London sky, his eyes becoming solemn.
He knew the wheels of history had begun to turn inexorably.
And he—and the woman he had grown to love—were about to face the final and most turbulent obstacle on her path to becoming queen.
"A new storm… it's really coming," he murmured to himself.
---