As they entered, it felt like the entire hall took a breath.
Heads turned. Conversations slowed. Even the music seemed to lean toward the great doors for a heartbeat. There was something like gravity around them—Elissa and Alistair stepping into the light together.
Alistair carried himself with the calm authority of the Castle. Elissa at his arm looked like something carefully placed and somehow still entirely out of anyone's control—mesmerizing in her beige dress with its fine pearl work, her dark hair now loose and flowing down her back instead of pinned up.
Her features were soft, almost fragile, but there was grace in the way she walked, in the way she held her shoulders despite every eye in the room turning toward her.
Kestrel, who had been standing with a cluster of nobles, broke away the moment she saw them.
"Elissa," she said with a bright smile as she reached them, her expression warm for the crowd but her eyes sharp. "You're finally here. Come with me, there are people you must meet before they think I've been hiding you."
Her gaze flicked once to Elissa's hair—down now, most of the flowers gone—and then to Alistair's arm.
Elissa felt that look like a needle. Before Kestrel could say anything more, she gently uncurled her hand from Alistair's sleeve.
For a heartbeat, her eyes lifted to his.
He held her there, his gaze lingering on her face, then on the loosened waves of her hair, then back to her eyes. There was a question there. And an answer he already knew.
He loosened his arm just enough for her to slip away.
"Go," he said quietly, only for her. "You're needed."
Something in his tone made her chest tighten. She nodded once and turned to Kestrel.
Kestrel slid her arm through Elissa's and led her into the crowd.
On the other side of the hall, Prince Rael lounged on a low, cushioned sofa, a glass of blood wine in hand. As the pair entered and the room reacted, he watched with lazy interest.
A small smirk curved his lips.
"Now that," he murmured to himself, "is going to be a problem for someone."
He took a slow sip, humming at his own thought, eyes flicking between Alistair, Elissa, and the other nobles' shifting expressions.
Not far off, another figure watched as well—their gaze narrowing when they saw Elissa. She looked…fresh. Too fresh for a girl who, not long ago, should have been shaken to pieces.
Maybe in a while, they thought, that calm will crack. No one stays untouched forever.
Meanwhile, Kestrel guided Elissa through the nearest gap in the crowd.
"In a low voice, she asked, "What happened to your hair? I left you with a whole bouquet stuck in it."
Elissa's hand rose self‑consciously to the loosened strands. "There was a…little mishap between the doors," she whispered back. "I'll tell you later."
Kestrel's brows knitted slightly. "Mishap with who?"
Elissa's cheeks warmed. "Later," she repeated, even softer. "But it's fixed now. Mostly."
Kestrel glanced back toward where Alistair had been. "Everything good?" she asked quietly.
Elissa nodded. "Yes. It's…fine now."
Kestrel didn't push further—for now.
They didn't get much further before two familiar figures approached.
Vane and Dante slipped through the crowd toward them: Dante a little more composed, Vane wearing that easy, trouble-making half-smile.
"There you are," Vane said, sweeping a light, exaggerated bow. "The hall just got much more tolerable."
Dante gave a short nod, eyes taking in Elissa's dress, her hair, her slightly nervous posture. "You look very elegant tonight, Lady Elissa," he said seriously. "The color suits you."
Elissa's cheeks went pink. "Thank you," she said, dipping her head. "Both of you."
"Oh, we're being thanked with the same breath," Vane sighed dramatically. "Careful, Dante, we'll get competitive."
Dante glanced at him, unimpressed. "I'm not competing with you over compliments."
"You shouldn't," Vane replied. "I'd win."
Kestrel snorted. "You'd trip over your own ego halfway through."
As they spoke, a servant passed with a tray and they each took a drink. Elissa's fingers curled around the stem of her glass, the coolness a strange contrast to the warmth creeping over her skin. Her eyes flickered to her right feeling someone's stare ,and met with his dark blue one's. She everted her eyes and looked at her glass .
The music shifted to a new melody—a waltz, graceful and slow.
A new presence joined them, polite but impossible to ignore.
"Lady Elissa."
She turned.
Lucius stood there, the guest prince, dressed in rich, foreign-cut formalwear that marked him as not of this castle. There was a calm confidence in him—not the authority of a host, but the easy assurance of someone well used to being received and watched.
"Your Highness," Elissa said, dipping her head slightly.
Lucius offered a brief nod to Kestrel, Vane, and Dante, then focused back on her.
"If you are not yet promised this dance," he said, voice smooth and respectful, "may I have the honor?"
Vane gave a little low whistle under his breath, quickly smothered by a cough. Dante shot him a look.
Kestrel's eyes flicked between Lucius and Elissa, then to where Alistair stood across the hall. She said nothing—but she was watching.
Elissa hesitated only a heartbeat. Lucius had helped her before, had been…kind, in his own way. And he was a royal guest. Refusing would draw more attention than accepting.
"Yes," she answered softly. "I would be honored, Prince Lucius."
"Just Lucius, if you please," he said, a faint smile touching his mouth. "At least while we are dancing."
He extended his hand.
Elissa placed her fingers in his, feeling the weight of curious gazes all around them. As he led her toward the center of the hall and onto the dance floor, she couldn't help herself—she glanced back over her shoulder.
Across the room, Alistair stood where she'd left him, listening to a minister , eyes fixed on her.
For a second, their gazes locked.