>>Amber
"I actually have no idea," Ahin looked down in dismay, "The order ca from above."
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"North," He answered, "I’ve being assigned to work under Duke Wellington,"
"North?" I tilted my head, "But that place is always freezing! Isn’t it?" I frowned, "And they haven’t told you why you’re being transferred? Isn’t that odd?!"
"I might have offended a higher up." He said, "Political things like this happen all the ti," He pursed his lip for a second, "The only weird part is, I don’t rember being rude to anyone," He shook his head as he looked down, "I wish I didn’t have to leave," He looked at and our eyes t, "I thought I’d be staying,"
My heart jumped at his words. Then I looked away.
"When are you leaving?" I couldn’t look at him at the mont.
"In a few days," He answered, "Like maybe two or three days,"
"Oh..." Things went a little quiet after that. I could tell the aning behind Ahin’s words. He had been very clear about his feelings after all.
...
We reached the entrance of the ballroom
"Here," Ahin presented with a small knife before the door was opened and we walked through it.
"What’s this for?" I stared at the sleek dagger
"It’s just in case," He said, "I want you to keep it. Since you’ve beco a Saint. Anything can happen."
"Even when you’re here?" I teased him
He chuckled, "I won’t let anything happen to you as long as I’m here but, just in case, you might need to defend yourself." He paused, "It’s more of a gift,"
I took the knife from him, "Thank you," It was a pretty design.
"It’s easy to hide." He explained, "In your sleeve, in your dress, it’s got a bit of magic imbued in it and it sticks to fabric, you just need to position it right,"
I slipped in in my sleeve, with how it was made, it easily stuck with the stitching
"It’s nice," I smiled at him and he gave one back to , but I noticed how his gaze lingered on .
???
Why is he staring?
As if he had read my mind, he spoke, "You look beautiful," His genuine complint made my heart skip a beat but at the sa ti I felt guilty as well.
I had not given Ahin an answer, and now he was going to leave.
We then walked through the door and I subtly glanced at him, then looked away
...
"Presenting, Her Grace, Saint Amber, and Sir Ahin of the Royal Guard," Our nas were announced as we entered the Ball room.
The room was bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of crystal chandeliers, their light reflecting off the gilded walls and the vast expanse of polished marble beneath my feet. The soft hum of conversation mingled with the delicate strains of a string quartet,
The Princess, the host of the party, stood at the far end of the room, resplendent in a gown of midnight blue velvet, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that sparkled like starlight. Her golden hair was arranged in an elegant cascade of curls
I was always jealous of how pretty she was and how her features made her ’glow’, while my dark hair and pitch black eyes never gave the attention I wanted.
I put on a smug smile.
I can’t believe how crazy for attention I was as Corvina. I understand now that it was never about my looks, but more about the fact that since I didn’t receive love from my family, I was never able to love myself as I was.
The air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers—roses, lilies, and jasmine—artfully arranged in grand bouquets that adorned every corner of the room. The tables were set with the finest porcelain and crystal, laden with delicacies that tempted the eye and the palate. Silver platters held an array of canapés, pastries, and fruits, each more delectable than the last.
"Should I get sothing for you?" Ahin asked
"A glass of wine," I told him, "I think I’m gonna need it."
He nodded and moved away from as I went further into the crowd. The people there greeted
"Saint Amber,"
"Hello Saint,"
"Nice to et you, Saint Amber,"
It was expected but also a bit tiring. That’s when I noticed a waiter co in my direction. He was holding a tray with wine glasses.
"Miss," He ca and offered one.
"Thank you," I took it as I looked around. Where is Ahin? He must be looking for . I asked him to get wine and then I vanished from my place. I hope he finds fast.
I sipped the wine as I kept looking around. That’s when I saw the Princess, Ophelia, and her group of friends approach .
"Saint Amber," She had a smile on her face, "So nice of you to join us,"
"Princess," I gave her a courtesy bow.
"Saint Illaris," I gave her a nod and she nodded back but didn’t say anything. The rest of the group didn’t greet either. They all stared at
I couldn’t shake the feeling that sothing was amiss.
Ophelia looked up and down, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "My, my, Saint Amber, what an... interesting choice of attire. Lavender, isn’t it? How quaint." Her tone was light, but the barb in her words was unmistakable. A few nearby guests stifled their laughter, casting curious glances our way.
What is she on about?
"Your Highness, did you not send this dress?" I asked politely.
"? Why would I do that?" She paused, making an ’O’ with her mouth, "Oh? Did you not have any money to buy a dress yourself? So you wanted mine? You should have told then, I’m always happy to help the poor,"
I felt a flush rise to my cheeks, the sting of her comnt making my grip tighten around the stem of the wine glass in my hand. Before I could muster a response, the Princess closed the distance between us, her movents graceful yet deliberate. She placed a hand lightly on my arm, her eyes locking onto mine with a calculating gleam.
"Do tell ," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Where did you find such a unique piece? It must have been quite the search." Her words were sugar-coated, but the condescension was clear, "It’s odd you wore a dead person’s dress while you also look exactly like her."
It hit then. She sent this dress to mock for wearing the dress Corvina wore.
"A dead person’s dress," A lady behind her said
"Gosh, what a horrible choice." Soone from the crowd heard our conversation and spoke
"Can’t bla her, she’s a peasant."
"She looks exactly like that dead wench, it’s nauseating."
So this is what the princess wanted to do.
"You may not know this," Ophelia said, "But you look exactly like this woman everyone despised and-" She shook her head at with a disgusted expression, "This dress, she wore this exact sa dress," She looked into my eyes as she gasped, "You didn’t steal this, did you?"
"Excuse ?" I pointed at myself, "? I don’t even know what you’re saying."
"It’s just that, I don’t think anyone would make a copy of a dress already worn by nobility, and especially her." She pointed at her head and twirled her index finger around, "You know, your lookalike was a crazy wench," She lowered her voice, "She wouldn’t allow anyone to repeat her dress."
As she spoke, I sensed movent behind . A subtle signal from the Princess had drawn one of her attendants closer, and in an instant, I felt a sharp push from behind. I stumbled forward, the montum sending off balance. My wine glass, already precarious in my tightened grip, tipped dangerously.
In a split second the rich red wine sloshed over the rim of the glass, arcing through the air before splashing down onto the Princess’s pristine gown. Gasps echoed around the room as the vivid stain spread across the midnight blue velvet, marring its perfect surface.
The Princess’s eyes widened, and for a mont, there was a stunned silence. Then, her expression shifted, a mix of shock and outrage. "Oh dear," she exclaid, her voice carrying through the ballroom. "Saint Amber! Why!?"
Her words cut through , the humiliation searing. I could feel the weight of every gaze in the room, the whispers starting to circulate.
"Did she just throw wine at the Princess?"
"She must be out of her mind,"
As the initial shock of the spilled wine began to dissipate, the Princess’s expression transford. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her lips quivered ever so slightly. She clasped her hands together, holding them to her chest in a gesture of distress.
"I didn’t an to offend you or anything," She began, her voice trembling just enough to elicit sympathy. "I was only trying to offer a gentle suggestion. I rely pointed out that perhaps Saint Amber’s dress wasn’t the best choice." She paused, looking around the room, ensuring she had everyone’s attention. Her eyes t mine briefly, filled with feigned sorrow and betrayal.
"But it seems," She continued, her voice rising in volu and emotion, "That my words were misunderstood. I had no intention of causing any offense. There was certainly no need for such a drastic reaction." She glanced down at her wine-stained gown, the deep red of the spilled wine stark against the dark velvet. "I cannot believe that you] would throw wine at , especially here, at my own ball."
Tears rolled down her cheeks, her friends ca over to console her while they glared at .
"Just because you’re a Saint, you can’t do that!"
"That’s right, how can you ruin the Princess’s dress!"
All eyes were on .
"Gosh, I can’t believe a peasant turned into a saint,"
"She has no manners!"
"On top of wearing a dead woman’s dress and even looking like her, it seems her personality is similar too."
Her words hung in the air, and I could feel the shift in the room’s atmosphere. Whispers spread like wildfire, and the looks directed my way were no longer just curious; they were judgntal, critical. I could hear snippets of conversations—disbelief, shock, and condemnation mixed with speculation about my motives.
"How could she do such a thing?" I heard soone murmur.
"Such behavior is unbecoming," another voice added, filled with disdain.
"Poor Princess, she was only trying to help," A sympathetic guest comnted, their voice tinged with righteous indignation.
I felt the weight of their words pressing down on , my humiliation deepening with every passing second. The Princess continued to play her role to perfection, dabbing at her eyes with a delicate lace handkerchief, her expression one of wounded innocence.
"I only wanted to be kind," She said, her voice softer now, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. "But it seems my kindness has been repaid with cruelty."
The crowd around her murmured in agreent, the collective mood shifting in her favor. I stood there, feeling utterly isolated, my cheeks burning with a mix of anger and sha. The Princess had masterfully turned the situation to her advantage, painting herself as the innocent victim of my supposed malice.
Shit
I almost forgot about palace drama like this. Life was so peaceful in the cafe, away from this bullshit.
I wanted to defend myself, to explain that the wine spill had been an accident, but the atmosphere was so charged against that any words I might say would likely fall on deaf ears. The princess already denied sending the dress, so I can’t even say anything back in that matter.
I pursed my lips in anger and embarrassnt.
The damage was done, and the Princess’s performance had sealed my fate for the evening.
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