The Ball

That night, Lorraine prepared for the ball with care. She didn't want to go, but if she had to, she'd be ready. Sylvia and Emma followed her every word, writing down her instructions. They always did what she asked, even though Lorraine rarely explained herself. Her plans were smart, and they trusted her because they always worked.

Aldric burst into the room, his energy lighting up the space. He chatted with Lorraine as usual, and soon laughter echoed around them. He never allowed Lorraine to go to bed in a bad mood. He knew she was hurt to see her flowers crumpled on the ground.

Leroy, walking slowly toward his wife's chamber, heard the sound. After last night's tension and the flowers he'd damaged, he wasn't sure how to face her. The door was open just a crack, and he peeked inside.

Lorraine sat in a chair, her golden hair glowing in the candlelight. Aldric perched on the table, facing her, casual and awfully close, talking fast and signing with his hands. Emma stood beside Lorraine, laughing loudly, holding her belly. Even Sylvia, leaning against the wall, had a small smile.

Leroy's eyes locked on Lorraine. Her smile was brighter than he'd ever seen, full of life. His chest tightened, a shadow crossing his face. He stared at Aldric for a moment, almost stepping in. But then, without a word, he turned and walked away.

-----

The next evening, Lorraine dressed for the ball. She picked a dark, plain gown, one that wouldn't catch anyone's eye. At her father's events, she always wore dull colors and simple jewelry. Standing out brought trouble, especially from Elyse, who bullied her relentlessly.

Once, Lorraine had worn her favorite bracelet, which once belonged to her late mother, to a ball. Elyse stole it with a smug grin. Since then, Lorraine learned to fade into the background.

Emma fixed her hair in a simple, elegant style. Lorraine added her homemade lip color, a deep red made from Vyrnshade blossoms. Yes, it was poisonous, but it smelled sweet and strong, a scent she loved. She looked in the mirror. The navy-blue gown dulled her icy blue eyes, hiding her beauty. That was how she wanted it.

Leroy waited by the carriage, his golden mask on, looking tall and strong. Emma climbed into the back, but hesitated when she saw Cedric already there. The two had grown up in nearby towns and used to be friends. Now, since Cedric's return, Emma avoided him. Lorraine noticed but stayed quiet, her own worries weighing her down.

Lorraine studied Leroy closely, taking in the sight of him dressed in the outfit she had meticulously tailored with the help of the best tailor in the capital. His golden hair, which blended seamlessly with the golden mask, was tied back with a black silk ribbon. His braided hair, too, was tied back. She didn't like to see him hide his kingdom's traditions, but maybe he wanted to blend in with the others in Vaeloria.

Even through the mask, she couldn't help but notice his piercing green eyes fixed on her. She wasn't going to get swayed by that anymore.

Leroy held out his hand to help her into the carriage. Lorraine ignored it, climbing in alone. She was upset he'd forced her to attend the ball, after all, and this was her small way of showing it.

Leroy hid his smile behind his mask and followed her inside, saying nothing. The silence felt heavy as the carriage started moving.

Lorraine glanced out the window, looking for Zara. The warrior had ridden proudly in the victory parade, but now she was gone. Lorraine smirked to herself. Her husband knew how to keep his mistress safe.

Leroy, however, couldn't take his eyes off Lorraine. The navy gown she wore seemed to dim the brightness of her captivating eyes. She had chosen not to wear any jewelry, opting for a look that didn't draw attention. He recalled how breathtaking she appeared in soft pastels. Time had been incredibly kind to her, making her even more enchanting as the years rolled by.

But why did she choose to conceal her beauty?

He let out a sigh, reached into his pocket, and retrieved a ring. It was truly exquisite—an aquamarine stone surrounded by diamonds, set in gleaming white gold. Without a word, he took her gloved hand and slid the ring onto her finger. The gem matched her eyes, and he had to buy it when he saw it.

Lorraine pulled back at his touch, staring at the ring. It was gorgeous, but she knew Elyse would want it. She'd written to Leroy about Elyse's thefts. Did he not care? Or... did he mean for Elyse to take it? The thought stung.

Still, she couldn't help but admire the ring. It looked expensive. The rest of the ride passed in silence.

-----

They arrived at Duke Arvand's mansion. The iron gates stood tall, decorated with the family crest: a two-headed eagle in black and silver. One head looked up at the sky, the other down at the ground, a chain in its claws showing their loyalty to the Crown. The colors midnight blue and ash silver with gold edges shone in the torchlight. It was her family's sigil, a mark of her father's power as the patriarch of the House of Arvand, the family that helped the Dravenholt family get the crown.

Lorraine's heart pounded. She hated this place. For all the history associated with this place, she only had memories of pain and suffering. Fear gripped her, but she took a deep breath. She wouldn't let it win.

Leroy stepped out, and before he could help her down, her father's people rushed to greet him. He was the hero tonight, and the crowd cheered. They would call him "dog" in the presence of the Emperor, but bow to him in the presence of her father.

In the chaos, Lorraine slipped away from him. She didn't care. She entered the ballroom, found the fainting couch area, and sat down. This spot was Lorraine's clever trick. Tucked in the fainting couch area, head bowed, eyes half-closed, she seemed harmless, fading into the shadows of the noblewomen's swirling silks and glittering jewels. They spoke freely, their voices sharp as thorns, spilling secrets around her.

Tonight, their whispers struck deep, targeting Leroy's mistress and Lorraine's childless marriage. "If she could bear children, she'd have them by now," one lady sneered, her fan snapping shut like a trap. "One from their first year, another when the Prince returned five years ago."

Ten years, no heirs. "Barren," they hissed, the word a dagger in Lorraine's heart.

She was used to their venom, but tonight they twisted it deeper.

"The Crown Prince should remarry Elyse," another murmured, her voice low, plotting. "She's borne two sons. She'd give him an heir, no question."

Lorraine's eyes fluttered shut, her heart sinking like a pebble in a dark stream. She wasn't shocked. Her father, Duke Arvand, had planned this victory ball for Leroy, not just to celebrate but to scheme, to push Elyse, his favored daughter, into Leroy's arms.

The betrayal stung, but Lorraine kept still, her face a mask of quiet strength. Leroy would welcome it, so what could she do?

The gossip paused as the courtesans swept in, their gowns gleaming like starlight on a still lake, setting fashion trends the noblewomen secretly envied. The ladies scoffed, lips curling in disdain, but their eyes traced every sway, jealous of the courtesans' grip on men's desires. Lorraine watched, her lips tight, her Vyrnshade-tinted red lip color wafting its sweet, floral scent into the air.

Then, a sharper gasp rippled through the crowd.