Chapter 19: The Velvet Blade

The Artisan Guild Ball, Gilded Hall

Golden chandeliers glittered like a thousand stars trapped in crystal. The Artisan Guild spared no expense for its annual winter ball—silken drapery, musicians on balconies, a banquet table that stretched half the hall.

Everyone who was anyone was here.

Except, originally, Elira.

That changed the moment the Crown Prince announced his personal attendance—and his wife as his honored guest.

Now every noble in the hall watched the grand staircase, breath held like a collective prayer.

Then she appeared.

Princess Elira descended the marble steps in a gown of nightshade-blue, dusted with silver like a midnight snowfall. Her hair was swept up in a braided crown, small sapphires woven through like frozen stars.

But it wasn't just her beauty that stunned the room.

It was the man beside her.

Crown Prince Kaelion, in black velvet with crimson trim, one gloved hand resting lightly on hers. His face, carved in cold stone, gave nothing away—but the closeness, the way he led her with deliberate poise, spoke volumes.

He'd never escorted anyone in public. Not once.

Until now.

Whispers flared like sparks among silk-draped nobles.

She wasn't supposed to come.

He brought her anyway.

She looks like a queen already…

They reached the floor. Elira dipped into a graceful bow. Kaelion did not. He simply let the crowd absorb the shock—and reveled in their discomfort.

An Hour Later, Ballroom Floor

Elira danced with dignitaries, spoke to artists and guild leaders, laughed with jewelers and foreign ambassadors. And she remembered every lesson she had learned in the Velanthian court: smile with sincerity, listen like it matters, and never forget who holds the blade behind the curtain.

"Crown Princess," purred Lady Saelinne, gliding over with a goblet of spiced wine. "You look… radiant. That dress—was it tailored in Dravendor, or imported?"