The gentleman's hand brushed Heather's gloved fingers. With careful poise, he leaned in and laid a soft kiss on the back of her hand.
She blinked, startled—but not displeased. The man was striking. Blonde hair like champagne silk, eyes the hue of a summer sky. Dressed impeccably, he exuded grace, charm, and just enough wealth to catch the attention of every ambitious heart in the ballroom.
"I'm Minister George," he said with a gentle bow.
"Heather," she curtsied, cheeks flushed.
"May I borrow a few minutes of your time, my lady?"
Heather glanced quickly at Eloise, who gave a subtle nod. Heart fluttering, she followed the minister into the crowd, her red gown catching stares like a flame in the wind.
⸻
Eloise let out a quiet sigh and stepped away from the polished grandeur. She moved to a far corner of the ballroom, choosing silence over spectacle.
This world was not hers.
Not the crystal chandeliers. Not the feathered masks or the golden flutes of wine. And certainly not the strained laughter of people hiding secrets behind smiles.
She plucked a glass of sparkling punch from a tray as a maid passed. Her fingers trembled only slightly.
When would the king appear with his bride?
And why did the thought of such an old man marrying yet another woman bring such unease?
She sipped quietly, eyes drifting. Her aunt was nearby, speaking animatedly to a rotund nobleman. Elma hovered beside her, pretending to be something soft and submissive. It almost made Eloise laugh.
⸻
Up above, from the second floor balcony, Lord Asher stood beside Odin, staring down at the festivities like a wolf watching a herd of sheep.
He wasn't listening to Odin anymore. His attention was on one person—and one only.
Her.
Eloise.
Even in a sea of silk and powdered faces, she stood apart. Her dress was simple. Modest. Her hair long and free, dark against the pale elegance of her skin. She didn't sparkle...but she glowed. As if untouched by the arrogance of this world.
"I'll be back," Asher murmured, already walking away.
⸻
"Eloise."
She turned. Her gaze softened instantly.
"Mr. Fisher," she smiled.
He looked different tonight—his brown hair combed neatly, a royal-blue tunic replacing his usual apron. He looked nervous, but handsome. Familiar.
"You don't seem to enjoy the party," he said.
"I don't," she confessed with a faint laugh. "Too many masks. Too much glitter."
"Same here," he chuckled. "Told Lady Camilla I needed a drink just to get away."
They stood together, the noise of the ballroom dulling around them. Their world was smaller than the grand hall...a little space where things felt safe.
"Eloise," he began, but a voice interrupted.
"Levi!"
Lady Camilla approached, gliding in like frost on marble. She clutched his arm possessively, clearly flustered. Her sharp gaze turned to Eloise.
"I've been looking everywhere," she said before noticing who Levi had been speaking to. "Ah... Miss Eloise, wasn't it?"
Her smile was saccharine. "Didn't recognize you without a mop in your hand."
Eloise's smile faltered, her grip tightening on the glass.
"Lady Camilla," Levi muttered, clearly uncomfortable.
"Oh, don't mind me," she cooed. "It's just... surprising to see someone like her here."
Eloise didn't reply. She wouldn't give Camilla the satisfaction. Still, a tightness coiled in her chest. She turned slightly, ready to excuse herself—
"Lady Camilla."
A new voice. Calm. Cold.
They all turned.
Asher stood just beside them, dark and composed, his presence quiet but commanding.
Camilla bowed awkwardly. "Lord Asher."
"Were you troubling my guest?" His voice was even, but his stare cut like a blade.
Camilla blinked. "Your guest?"
Even Levi looked stunned. Eloise froze.
"Yes," Asher said simply. "Would you excuse us now?"
Lady Camilla nodded quickly, grabbing Levi's arm. "Come, Levi."
Levi hesitated...but followed.
His eyes met Eloise's briefly before vanishing into the crowd.
⸻
Asher turned to her, gaze unreadable.
"What's your name?"
She blinked, unsure why he was speaking to her at all...let alone protecting her.
"Eloise," she answered cautiously.
The orchestra swelled. A new piece began, and couples flooded the floor in elegant rhythm.
"May I have this dance?" he asked, extending a gloved hand.
Eloise hesitated.
But her fingers found his.
⸻
She wasn't trained in dancing. She barely knew the steps.
But Asher moved like water—fluid, effortless. He guided her gently, allowing her to follow without stumbling. The press of his hand against her back was light, but firm enough to guide her.
She realized people were staring.
Why?
She wasn't anyone important.
"Who are you?" she whispered as they turned.
Asher smiled faintly, spinning her and catching her again. "Curious, aren't you?"
She narrowed her eyes. "You still didn't answer."
He chuckled. "And yet you danced with a stranger."
"You didn't seem dangerous."
He smirked. "Most wolves don't."
Eloise frowned, unsettled.
"You're not the prince, are you?" she asked skeptically.
"A prince? No." His smile returned. "A mere general. Nothing more."
But the way he moved, the way people watched him, the weight he carried...it was not the aura of a simple man.
"Then why are you watching me?" she asked.
He leaned in just slightly. "Because you don't pretend white fox."
Then, as the song ended, the music slowed.
"The king and his bride approach," a herald called.
The crowd parted.
⸻
Eloise stepped back from Asher, unsettled and confused.
Who was this man?
And why did he call her... white fox?
Asher turned to her one last time. "I'll see you again, little fox. And stay away from couples."
With that, he vanished into the crowd.
⸻
Trumpets echoed through the hall.
The king entered—grey, aged, and smiling faintly.
Beside him, the new queen.
Eloise stared.
She was radiant—long blonde hair and green eyes like glass. Far younger than the king, yet older than Eloise. And beautiful in an almost unreal way.
"The union of King Louis III and Lady Colette," the herald announced.
The crowd cheered.
Eloise didn't.
She simply watched.
And wondered what the cost of such beauty must be.
⸻
Later, as guests began to depart, Heather found her sister.
"Ready to leave?" Eloise asked.
Heather nodded, eyes still sparkling. "Should we wait for Eric?"