That night, Vivian's sleep was shallow, broken by images she couldn't name. When she opened her eyes, the sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains was sharp, too clean—unlike Elourne's soft morning haze. The air here always seemed a little to still, a little to watchful.
She turned her head and found Lily still curled beneath her blankets, golden hair tangled over her pillow. It was rare for her sister to sleep in. normally Lily was up with the sun, curios and humming. But perhaps the palace's weight pressed on her too.
Vivian sat up slowly, listening. Distant voices carried through the hallway—more chatter than usual. She stood, wrapping herself in her shawl, and padded towards the door. The moment she opened it, she nearly collided with a flushed servant girl holding a scroll.
"Oh!" The girl gasped. "Lady Vivian, perfect timing!"
Vivian frowned. "What is it?"
"The king has issued an announcement. A ball is to be held this evening. You and lady Lily are expected to attend."
Vivian blinked. "A ball?"
"Yes, my lady." The girl curtsied. "The seamstress will be up shortly to assist with your attire. Everything has been arranged."
Before Vivian could ask more, the girl turned and hurried off, scroll still clutched tightly in hand.
A ball. Why now?
She glanced back at lily, who stirred and opened one green eye. "Did I hear something about a ball?"
Vivian exhaled. "Apparently, it's tonight."
Lily sat up instantly, the covers falling from her shoulders. "Tonight? That's so sudden!" she paused, then smiled. "But that's exciting, isn't it?"
Vivian didn't answer.
A ball at a palace like this wasn't just dancing and gowns. Not when its king Cassian calling the tune.
By midday, the room was a flurry of silk and lace. The seamstress, a sharp-eyed woman with pins in her mouth and tapes around her neck, draped fabrics over their frames, measuring and muttering to herself.
Vivian stood stiffly as a dress of deep forest green was adjusted to fit her frame. The bodice dipped modestly, embroidered with silver leaves, while the skirt fell in soft folds. It was beautiful, too beautiful, she didn't belong in a dress like this.
Lily twirled in a flowing lavender gown. Beaming. "Do you think there will be music from other kingdoms?" she asked the seamstress, who only hummed in reply.
Vivia said nothing. Her eyes drifted to the window, where dark clouds were starting to gather in the distance. The sky had been so clear this morning. Strange.
Later, a woman arrived to style their hair. Lily requested braids and jewels, her excitement infectious. Vivian allowed her curls to fall naturally, though the woman wore silver strands into them, catching light as she turned.
"You'll catch his Majesty's eye," the woman said with a wink.
Vivian's stomach tightened.
The ballroom doors opened just after twilight.
Vivian had seen the palace halls glitter, but nothing prepared her for the sight that awaited her now. Crystal chandeliers floated above without visible chain, casting soft light over polished marble and golden arches. Tables lined the edges, draped in ivory cloth and adorned with exotic fruits, and wine that shimmered their glasses. The guest—nobles, emissaries, creatures from the other kingdoms—moved liked pieces in a painted dream.
But the most striking presence was King Cassian himself.
He stood atop a curved staircase, robed in black with crimson embroidery curling along his sleeves like veins. His dark hair was swept back, his posture regal, but it was his eyes—those deep unnatural red eyes—that drew every gaze.
Vivian felt attention on her the moment she entered, as though she'd stepped into a spotlight.
He did nor smile.
She swallowed hard and took Lily's arm, guiding her slowly into the room. They exchanged greetings with nobles they didn't recognize—tall men with silver skin, woman with feathered hair and eyes like glass. All smiled too perfectly.
When Cassian descended at last, silence fell like snowfall. He stood at the heart of the ballroom, wineglass in hand, voice steady and smooth. "I thank you all for accepting my invitation tonight. Let this ball mark not only peace among the four kingdoms, but the beginning of something greater—an age of remembrance."
Vivian's brows knit together. Age of remembrance?
"And," he added, his gaze sliding deliberately towards her and Lily, "Let it also mark the extended stay of our honored guest from Elourne—lady Vivian and Lady Lily."
There was a pause.
Then murmurs spread like ripples. Some eyes turned curious. Others turned cold.
Vivian's spined straightened.
He hadn't told her. He hadn't warned her. He just declared it—before the entire room.
Cassian raised his glass in a toast. "To beauty, to unity, and to the future."
The room drank. Vivian did not.
She could feel Lily's eyes flick to her, confused but silent.
The music resumed moment later, as if nothing has shifted—but everything had.
Vivian stepped out onto the balcony an hour later, needing air. The night breeze cooled her burning cheeks. Behind her, the ball continued—laughter, music, clinking glasses.
But she could still feel his words pressing on her chest like a stone.
"Do you always flee before the dancing ends?"
"I needed air," she replied carefully.
"Strange," he mused, "I thought you needed answers."
Vivian's mouth tightened. "What gave you the right to decide we're staying?"
"I thought last night made it clear," he said simply.
She frowned.
He stepped closer. "Do you think last night's words were for show?"
She hesitated. "You speak in riddles."
"I speak plainly, you just don't want to hear it."
Vivian folded her arms. "Then speak plainly now."
He studied her for a moment. "You and your sister are safer here than anywhere else. And I intend to keep it that way."
"That's not your choice to make."
"But I've made it."
Their eyes locked, a thread of fire between them.
After a moment, Cassian stepped back, offering a thin smile. "You'll find our chambers redecorated tomorrow. If you dislike the color, you can speak to the steward. I had them redone for a longer stay."
Without another word, he turned and vanished into the ballroom.
Vivian stood alone, trembling—not from fear, but from something else. She didn't go back inside. Not yet.