Shattered Charms

Jenna had agreed to the dance—but the moment her hand touched Prince Robert's arm, her chest tightened. Her fingers felt like ice, her pulse fluttered wildly. She couldn't even raise her eyes to his.

"Let's get you something to drink," Robert said gently, instantly noting her unease. He didn't press. His tone was calm, warm, steadying. She nodded mutely, and he guided her through the golden-lit ballroom toward a wide, marble-columned counter, where the other princes were gathered in a casual circle of muted conversation.

As they approached, the other princes turned with mild curiosity.

"She's not Bella," Prince Wysten murmured under his breath, just loud enough for Edward to hear. Edward gave a slow nod, his expression unreadable.

But no one pressed the matter. They all knew not to raise unnecessary questions at a public event.

Robert handed Jenna a glass of sparkling water, careful not to overwhelm her. "Hold on," he said softly, "Breathe first… then sip."

Jenna gave a nervous laugh, clutching the glass with trembling fingers.

Edward spoke next, his voice warm. "Where are you from? I don't believe we've met before."

"Uh—" Jenna hesitated. "I'm just… visiting. From out of town."

"Vague," Robert teased lightly, leaning back against the counter, trying to ease her further. "But I suppose vague is the theme of the evening."

Jenna gave a sheepish smile. "It's… complicated."

As the soft music swelled around them, Jenna began to relax slightly under their subtle warmth. For a moment, she almost forgot who she was pretending to be.

"I should excuse myself for a second," she said gently, placing her glass down and offering a polite nod.

But as she turned, her shoulder clipped the side of a passing trio of women—draped in expensive silks and even more expensive arrogance.

The tallest of the three gasped theatrically, stepping back with the air of someone mortally offended. Her hair was swept into a dazzling diamond-studded twist, sharp features drawn into a perfect sneer.

"Oh dear," she said with mock concern, eyes raking Jenna up and down. "Didn't see you there, darling."

"Neither did I," purred the second, lifting a flute of wine to her lips. "But now that I have… how very curious. A little mouse playing among lions."

Jenna froze. "I—I'm sorry—"

"Sorry doesn't erase desperation, sweetie," the first woman cut in smoothly. "We saw you clinging to them. What's the plan? Latch onto a prince before the clock strikes and turn into royalty?"

Jenna stepped back, her face paling.

"Oh please," said the third with an affected sigh. "Dripping nerves, hiding behind that dress like a hand-me-down curtain. Do you think that's charming?"

Their voices were sharp, low enough not to carry, but poisonous enough to wound.

"You think your modest makeup and poor-man's couture make you fit for this company?" The first lady laughed cruelly, her voice a serpent's hiss wrapped in velvet. "This isn't a talent hunt for charity girls."

Jenna's throat closed. Her fingers curled inward. Around them, only a few turned to glance, the rest too engrossed in the music and crowd. The scene wasn't loud—but it was venomous.

Robert stiffened, ready to speak—but Edward placed a hand near his arm, murmuring, "Not here. Not now. It'll cause a scene—"

The princes exchanged glances. None of them looked pleased. But any overt defense would stir questions they couldn't afford to answer here.

Then it happened.

A hand lifted above Jenna's head—a wine glass, deep red, tilting in slow motion beneath the chandeliers. It shimmered like blood.

Jenna stood frozen, her breath caught in her lungs.

But the wine never fell.

A pale, slender hand gripped the offending wrist—fingers unyielding, elegant, carved in frost.

Everyone froze. Jenna looked at the person and tears welled up. All heads turned.

Kourtney.

Still veiled in her disguise—dark felt hat, discreet glasses—but her eyes… her eyes were prismic, reflecting the sharpest hue of blue now turned winter. They gleamed like cracked glaciers under moonlight.

Her arrival wasn't loud. It didn't draw attention. But the energy shifted. Deathly quiet between only those present. As if the air itself had turned colder.

The princes stiffened. Prince Keith narrowed his eyes at the same girl who had roasted him earlier. "Her again?" he muttered with a raised brow, annoyance flaring in his tone. 

Robert blinked, exchanging glances with the others. 

Kourtney remained steady, her grip unwavering.

"Tell me," she said smoothly, her voice barely above a whisper—but every syllable sharp as a dagger. "Is this how highborn women handle rejection? With tantrums and wine?"

The wine trembled in its glass. The woman whose wrist was gripped blinked in alarm. 

Robert now straightened slightly, who was torn between his princely decorum and the visible urge to step in.

The woman squirmed, her pride wounded. "Let me go—"

She was released. But not gently.

Kourtney shoved her hand away with enough force to unbalance her, and the woman staggered back, heels wobbling, arms flailing slightly as she grabbed onto a nearby guest for support. A few stifled laughs followed. Most thought it a stumble. Only those within the circle knew better.

"She's handling it," Jacen said quietly among the others, arms crossed, a note of reluctant respect in his tone.

"Careful," Kourtney said with icy calm. "Seems your balance is as broken as your character."

Then, without a flinch, she withdrew a small bottle of sanitizer from her pocket, pressed a dab into her palm, and cleaned her hand.

"Touching you felt infectious," she murmured.

The woman turned crimson.

Edward exhaled slowly. "That… was necessary."

Robert smirked, folding his arms. "That was art."

Even Keith, arms folded tight, remained wordless—his scowl sharper than before, but layered now with the sting of being shown up.

The meanest one regained her voice, pointing with venom. "You—who do you even think—"

Kourtney didn't let her finish.

"I think," she said, "you wear silk and sapphires, but your dignity is threadbare."

There was no raised voice. No outburst. Just clean, poised truth wrapped in ice.

"Wh-who do you think you are?" the woman stuttered, 

Kourtney looked her top to bottom bored. "I don't think you are worthy enough to know."

She turned, standing before Jenna now—shielding her completely, her voice cutting quieter still.

"You insulted the wrong girl tonight," she said, her tone now deadly calm. "And you're lucky I'm too civilized to correct that with a slap."

The first woman opened her mouth again—but this time, Keith's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"I think that's enough."

His tone was cool and steady, not raised, but final—leaving no room for argument. His gaze settled on the trio, sharp and unyielding. "You've embarrassed yourselves enough for one evening," 

The three women faltered, their humiliation sharp.

Without another word, they disappeared into the crowd.

Edward let out a breath, straightening his collar. "That could've escalated."

Robert, after a moment, released a breath. "She defused it better than we could've."

Wysten, arms crossed, muttered, "Efficient, I'll give her that."

Jacen gave a quiet nod. "That's not the kind of presence you see often."

Keith folded his arms, eyes fixed on where she'd disappeared. "Always has to have the last word, doesn't she?"

Nicholas gave a quiet chuckle, unfazed. "Correction," he continued, "She stopped something ugly before it turned worse."

Jenna had sunk beside a nearby column, breath uneven but eyes still wide and alert. No sobs, no hysteria—just frozen. Stunned. Like someone trying to hold herself steady after surviving a sudden downpour.

Kourtney moved to her without pause, kneeling beside her and gently placing an arm around her shoulders.

"Hey…" Her voice dropped as she crouched next to her. "I've got you."

Jenna blinked. "I—I froze. I didn't know what to do—"

"They went too far. And you froze. That's all." Kourtney wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You're safe now."

She smoothed back a loose strand of Jenna's hair, unaware—or perhaps uncaring—that six princes stood only a few feet away.

The princes looked on, caught in the silent weight of the scene.

Their presence didn't register until she rose again, steadying Jenna by the elbow. Her gaze flicked to the side—and landed on them.

Her expression changed instantly.

The warmth in her eyes vanished.

Keith was the first to speak, sharp and sarcastic. "You've got a flare for theatrics, don't you?"

Kourtney didn't flinch. "Would you have preferred a spilled drink and public humiliation?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound like we condoned it."

"You didn't stop it," she replied, tone crisp. "Not until after I did."

"We considered it," Jacen said carefully, "but stepping in would've drawn even more eyes. The hall was already watching — if one of us intervened, it might have turned her dignity into a spectacle."

Kourtney didn't speak right away, but her gaze didn't soften. "So you let her endure it... in silence?"

Jacen's jaw tensed. "We were trying not to make it worse."

Wysten stepped in gently. "It wasn't neglect. It was restraint… though I'm not sure it felt any better."

Nicholas, who had been quiet until now, nodded once. "You stepped in when it mattered. Before things crossed a line."

Edward added with a low breath, "We were relieved, honestly. Someone had to stop it. And you did it with more grace than any of us could've managed."

Robert offered a faint smile. "You did what we didn't. What we probably should've. Thank you… for that."

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them.

Edward stepped forward concerned with a fresh handkerchief to Jenna.

"Are you alright, Miss?"

She nodded faintly, whispering, "Thank you…"

Kourtney turned back to Jenna and lightly touched her arm. "When you feel steady, go grab your things. We won't be staying long."

Jenna nodded faintly and walked off. Kourtney's gaze followed her for a beat—measured, unreadable.

Now alone among royalty once again.

The silence hung in the air like dust motes suspended in light.

"So…" Wysten said, his tone dry but not unfriendly, "you sneak past palace gates, rescue damsels, and shame aristocrats. Do we thank you for the show, or just try not to get in your way?"

Kourtney didn't look at him. "I wasn't aiming for either."

Edward chuckled softly. "Still, I'd say we're… intrigued."

She didn't answer.

Robert stepped closer, resting a casual elbow on the counter beside her. "We've met thrice, and I still don't know your name."

She reached for Jenna's forgotten water glass and took a slow sip. "Then it probably isn't yours to know."

Keith exhaled sharply from the side. "Wonderful. Another enigma with an attitude."

Kourtney didn't flinch. Her eyes slid to him, calm and unimpressed.

"Still talking?" she said, tone dry as glass. "Must be exhausting hearing yourself so much. Or do you just like the sound?"

She took another sip of water, unhurried.

"Either way—I'm not your audience."

Keith's jaw tightened, the muscle flickering as he stared at her. "You're really testing your welcome."

Kourtney offered the faintest shrug.

A beat passed, charged.

Even Jacen gave a quiet snort, while Robert tried—and failed—to hide his grin.