"Make sure all the cakes and desserts are placed on the table. And arrange the wines properly—for the guests," Queen Madeline's voice rang out, firm and urgent.
It echoed from the far end of the room, where a curtain had been drawn back to reveal a long table already filled with trays of food and elegant displays of sweets.
The maidens moved in perfect rhythm, their steps quick, their arms loaded with dishes. Margaret stood to the side, watching the flurry of motion. For a moment, she wondered—was this a royal ball, or a grand feast for the entire kingdom?
The head maiden stood out among the rest. Her black hair was trimmed into neat, elegant short curves. Though younger than the queen, her posture was firm and graceful, and despite having two children, she moved with the energy of early spring.
"Oh, Eloide," Queen Madeline said with a breath of relief.
Eloide offered a small smile and bowed her head. "My Queen, you should not trouble yourself with the arrangements. Allow me to handle it," she said gently.
Madeline shook her head, her voice dropping to a whisper. "There's been a change of plans."
Margaret was close enough to catch every word.
"The princess… she's not feeling well."
Eloide gasped, cutting her off. "Then I shall send for the maidens to bring her medicine at once."
"Oh, I've already handled it," Madeline said with a short, awkward laugh. She leaned closer, lowering her voice further. "I'd rather we focus on the feast. Keep the guests at ease. Let's make sure no one is bored. Feed them our finest delicacies."
Eloide looked anxious now, her fingers gripping her dress as she scanned the room filled with eligible young men.
"How do we change their minds?" she murmured. "There are more suitors here than I can count."
Margaret sighed softly, watching as her mother's brow furrowed in frustration. Queen Madeline looked genuinely overwhelmed, and for a moment, Margaret nearly laughed.
She was tempted to reveal herself—to let the Queen know she'd changed her mind—but the spectacle before her still held her breathless.
Gwen had entered through the main doors, but Margaret had chosen the back entrance, the one rarely noticed. She wanted her presence to be known to her parents firstly. It was Eloide she had intended to find to pass the message—but thank the stars, her mother was here.
Margaret's eyes swept across the ballroom. From this corner, her view was limited, but she could still make out the elegance. The chandeliers shimmered in soft colors, casting a warm, enchanted glow. The balcony curtains were drawn open, allowing moonlight to spill in like liquid silver.
Ribbons and silk streamers curled around every pillar. Some draped artfully across the windows, styled with exquisite detail.
But what truly left her mouth agape were the suitors.
Yes, nobles, barons, royal scholars, and even merchants had arrived—with their wives, their guards, their dignity. But the bachelors—oh, they were everywhere. She sensed that many of them were human. They wore the most fashionable tailored suits and cravats. Their shoes gleamed. Their hair was slicked back or styled to perfection, some trimmed into clean cuts that framed their confident faces.
They dressed to impress, and they knew it. Their poise was practiced, their charm almost choreographed. It was as if they'd all stepped out of the same romantic tale—and for a moment, Margaret nearly rolled her eyes.
Yes, Gwen had been right. They were handsome.
Perhaps if she hadn't stumbled upon Dante, she might have been flattered.
At the thought of Dante, Margaret wondered what he was doing. It was the royal ball—perhaps he was hidden in the shadows, like the other shadow vampires, ready to protect if something went wrong.
But that only deepened her sadness. Why couldn't all the lights be turned off, leaving only the moonlight to illuminate the room? That way, he could join them. Why couldn't he step out from behind the curtains and mingle with the other eligible bachelors? She longed to see him in a suit, standing among them.
She wondered if he was here at all, or if he had left the task to the other shadow vampires.
"Oh, Margaret," her mother called, snapping her from her thoughts.
Margaret turned to see her mother's wide eyes and slightly open mouth. "I sent you tea to rest, because I thought you wouldn't come."
Margaret glanced at her, she was dressed in the same blue gown, her gold grown firmly atop her hair. If not for her mother's shock, she could almost see the relief in her expression. "You did come. I do hope I haven't forced you into this—only if you truly wanted to be here."
"Oh, Mother," Margaret replied softly, "I came of my own will."
Maiden Eloide's face twisted with concern. "Princess Margaret, do you still feel unwell? Perhaps you should rest if you're not comfortable…"
Before Margaret could respond, Queen Madeline quickly took over. "You should be announced," she said with a bright smile. She moved toward Margaret and placed a hand gently on her elbow. "My dear, would you like to be announced officially? You really didn't have to if you're not ready."
Did she?
Her mother was already holding her wrist, leading her away from the food table.
"Of course I should be announced," Margaret said, her voice steady, though she wasn't sure she believed it.
People would whisper if she wasn't announced. All these people had come for her—she couldn't just sneak into the ball like a squirrel and start conversing with potential suitors in an attempt to chase them away, even though that was exactly what she had in mind.
Queen Madeline giggled, then paused, adjusting Margaret's crown. She stared at her for far too long, as though searching for some hint of… something.
"Oh, Mother," Margaret said with a low laugh.
"I just want to be sure you're ready for this," her mother said, her blue eyes locking with Margaret's. For the first time, Margaret saw the true concern in her mother's gaze.
Margaret had never been announced this way before. Her eighteenth birthday had been far more private, just family and a few close friends. Ravencrest was the only country where the king didn't follow tradition strictly. When Margaret had told him of her phobia about facing a crowd, he hadn't pushed her into it, despite her mother's protests. He'd arranged a small ball for just their family, and it had been manageable. She hadn't felt overwhelmed.
But this ball was different. The curtains were drawn back, creating more space in the room for even more people. It was a grand announcement, one she wasn't prepared for.
Now, her hands shook at her sides. Her teeth chattered slightly. She kept her face as calm as possible, hoping her mother wouldn't notice. But Queen Madeline did.
"Oh, Princess, you don't have to if you don't want to..."
"I can... I can manage..."
"Is that my little niece?" A soft whisper came from behind her, followed by Uncle Josiah's face appearing. He grinned boyishly at her.
A wave of relief washed over Margaret at the sight of him. She had spent most of her days with him in the village, and his presence was the comfort she craved.
Uncle Josiah was muscled like her grandfather Gavin, her mother's father. His deep black hair was smooth, though long enough to fall to his shoulders. There was always a playful glint in his eyes. His brows never furrowed when he looked at her. When her mother couldn't understand her, he was the one who came to her rescue, often teasing that his big sister could be a pain at times.
In this moment, Queen Madeline looked relieved by his presence. "We have to make an announcement, Jo, but she doesn't seem ready."
Margaret pouted her lips, and Josiah mirrored the expression. "Now, now, why squeeze that beautiful face?" He stepped closer, resting a hand on her shoulder. He was taller and more muscular than both she and her mother, though not quite as tall as her father or godfather Sebastian. "Do you not like it here? Should we visit the garden? The air is lovely this time of night."
The thought of going to the garden eased her mind, and even her mother seemed to soften at the suggestion. But Margaret shook her head. "These people have come for me. I can't just abandon them."
"Very well." Josiah grinned. For someone who rarely wore a suit, he looked exceptionally fine today. He had chosen a deep brown suit with a milk-colored cravat. He extended his hand toward her. "Shall we?"
Margaret's lips parted. She didn't understand what he was asking. Then he raised an eyebrow when she didn't take his hand. "I'll walk you."
Madeline was about to protest, but when she saw her daughter grin and place her hand in Josiah's, she smiled and urged them forward.
"Alright," Margaret said, following him toward the back stairs that would lead to the high stand.
Draven came up behind his wife and embraced her.
"Did you see that?" Madeline asked.
"Your little brother seems to have won our daughter's favor," Draven chuckled, watching Josiah and Margaret with pride. "She's beautiful."
"Yes, yes, she is," Madeline replied, her composure starting to slip as her husband kissed the hollow of her neck. Thank goodness they were away from the crowd, hidden behind a pillar.
"Good gracious, Draven."
"You're beautiful too," he whispered in her ear.
.....
When Margaret reached the stairs, despite her uncle holding her hand, her heart began to beat so fast she feared she wouldn't be able to do this.
"Sweetheart," he coaxed, rubbing her hand gently, "I'm here with you."
Margaret relaxed and smiled at him.
"Ready?"
She nodded. "Ready."
Her gaze shifted, and she caught sight of Gwen and Godfather Sebastian. Like her father, his white hair was neatly trimmed, and there was a glint in his emerald eyes.
They both nodded at her, and she began to relax. Perhaps she could do this.
They began to ascend the stairs, heading toward the top.
Each step with her uncle by her side made her feel a little more at ease.
When they reached the top, all eyes turned to her. Whispers ceased, and every suitor's gaze swept over her. But as she looked at them, there was no hint of fear in her eyes.
Her uncle looked at her with pride, then he made the announcement.
Everything happened so quickly, leaving no room to process. After the announcement, she stepped forward, into the crowd, toward her ball, and the waltz began. People began to sway.
That was when the fear returned. She would have to dance with several suitors and eventually choose among them. She could decline them, but still, the thought of dancing with so many men almost made her want to scream…