A Dance of Duty

Location: The Grand Ballroom, Eldoria's Royal Palace

The grand ballroom of Eldoria's royal palace shimmered with golden chandeliers and glistening marble floors. Nobles draped in the finest silks and velvets filled the vast hall, their laughter and hushed conversations mingling with the soft melody of the string quartet. Tonight was the night Princess Evangeline was to be formally introduced to the court—a spectacle meant to reassure the nobles that their long-lost princess could indeed be a proper lady.

Eva, however, felt like she was walking into a lion's den.

Draped in a flowing sapphire gown that cinched at the waist and cascaded like a waterfall, she should have felt regal, but the weight of expectation pressed down on her like a corset laced too tight. She would rather be anywhere else—scaling the palace walls, riding through the forests, or sparring with Lucian in the training yard. But instead, she was here, drowning in lace and etiquette, forced to smile at strangers who only saw her as a pawn in their political games.

At the top of the grand staircase, King Aldric stood tall, his crown gleaming under the chandelier light. To his right, Lord Magnus watched her with sharp, calculating eyes. She avoided his gaze, her stomach twisting at the memory of his earlier proposal. To her left stood Sir Lucian Valemont, her ever-present shadow, looking as composed as ever in his formal black-and-gold uniform. His sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes gave him an air of authority that made the noblewomen whisper behind their fans.

"Smile, daughter," Aldric murmured, his voice laced with quiet warning.

Eva barely managed a strained smirk as the herald announced her entrance. The room fell into a hush before applause rippled through the hall. She descended the steps, each one feeling heavier than the last. She spotted Isolde in the crowd, the ever-loyal maid giving her a mischievous thumbs-up, while Tobias, the palace dishwasher, grinned from the servant's alcove.

Once she reached the ballroom floor, the music resumed, and the festivities began. The nobles feasted, gossiped, and danced in elegant formations. Eva tried to slip into the background, avoiding Magnus' looming presence and the tedious introductions, but her escape was short-lived.

The King raised a goblet. "Let the princess's first dance commence!"

Eva's blood ran cold. Oh, no.

A path cleared in the ballroom, and before she could protest, King Aldric's commanding voice rang out:

"Sir Lucian Valemont, as the princess's most trusted protector, you shall have the honor of the first dance."

Eva's heart nearly stopped. She turned sharply toward Lucian, who remained stoic, but she caught the flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance? Amusement? He gave a curt bow and stepped forward.

The nobles watched with barely concealed intrigue. Some smirked, expecting the wild princess to make a fool of herself. Others whispered, no doubt questioning why the dance was not reserved for a nobleman.

Lucian extended his hand. "Your Highness."

Eva glared at him. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" she muttered under her breath.

"I'm merely following orders," he said evenly, though she swore she saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

Swallowing her frustration, Eva placed her hand in his. His grip was firm, his touch warm against her gloved fingers. The music began—a slow, sweeping waltz. Lucian led her into the dance with practiced ease, but Eva, having little patience for courtly nonsense, stumbled on the first step.

A few gasps echoed through the hall.

Lucian's grip tightened. "Focus," he murmured. "Left foot first."

Eva scowled. "You're supposed to be my guard, not my dance instructor."

"And yet, here we are."

They moved in slow circles, her initial stiffness easing as she followed his lead. The nobles watched intently, searching for any misstep, but to Eva's surprise, Lucian guided her effortlessly.

For a brief moment, she forgot about the eyes on her. The scent of his cologne—warm cedar and leather—lingered in the air, and his firm hand on her waist was steadier than she expected. She dared to meet his gaze and was caught off guard by the intensity there, a quiet storm beneath his usual restraint.

Then, as if the universe demanded she ruin the moment—her foot caught the hem of her dress.

She lurched forward, her balance slipping. Lucian reacted swiftly, catching her before she could completely topple over, but not before the sound of her clumsy misstep echoed in the ballroom.

The music halted. A ripple of muffled laughter spread through the crowd.

Eva straightened immediately, cheeks burning.

Lucian exhaled through his nose, his grip on her firm but not unkind. "Are you trying to fall on purpose?"

"No," she gritted out. "The floor is slippery."

He arched a brow. "Of course it is."

More laughter. Lord Magnus, ever the opportunist, stepped forward with a mocking smile. "Perhaps the princess should sit before she further humiliates herself."

Eva's hands clenched, but before she could snap back, Lucian moved.

"I believe we are not finished," he said, his voice calm but commanding.

He nodded to the musicians, who hesitated before resuming the melody. Then, to Eva's shock, he twirled her back into the dance.

She barely had time to process what was happening. He led with more confidence this time, not allowing her any chance to stumble. The laughter faded as the audience watched in fascination. Lucian's grip was firm, his movements precise, guiding her through each step until she matched his rhythm.

For the first time that night, she didn't feel like the clumsy, unwanted princess.

She felt like someone worth watching.

By the time the dance ended, the nobles clapped—hesitant at first, then more enthusiastic. Eva and Lucian stepped apart, but not before he leaned in slightly and murmured, "Try not to trip on your way back."

She shot him a glare, but there was no malice in his expression. If anything, there was the ghost of a smirk.

"Try not to be insufferable," she countered before turning away.

As she walked off, she felt multiple gazes on her—some amused, some judging, and one particular pair, belonging to Magnus, filled with dark calculation.

The night was far from over.

And Eva had a feeling things were only going to get worse.