"Most unusual," a voice drawled from the shadows.
Smooth, low, carrying a thread of amusement.
"A princess sprawling in the dirt like a stablehand. Have the courtiers within driven you so mad?"
I didn't even flinch.
My arms stretched wider, and I arched my back against the grass with a groan of relief.
"If you've come to scold me, you're too late. I've already been lectured half to death tonight. Kindly mind your own business, mystery voice."
A soft chuckle followed. Then footsteps...measured, unhurried...approached until the lantern light caught his face.
My breath snagged. He wasn't dressed like the others, drowning in frills and jewels.
His attire was sleek, understated, though still undeniably regal.
Broad shoulders, sharp cheekbones, eyes the color of storm clouds after rain.
"Oh," I said, sitting up and brushing grass off my skirts with zero grace. "A prince. Of course."
I squinted at him. "Tell me you're not here to bow too. Because if you are, I'm running straight into that fountain."
His mouth curved into the faintest smirk. "Fear not. I bow for no one."
I arched a brow. "Ohhh, we've got a rebel prince. How refreshing. Tell me, do you always sneak into gardens to insult exhausted women lying in the grass, or am I just special?"
He tilted his head, clearly intrigued rather than offended. "Special, maybe. I expected the great Princess Ioana to be… different."
"Join the club," I muttered. "Everyone here expects me to be something I'm not."
His gaze lingered on me a moment, sharp and calculating, as though he could peel back my skin and read the truth underneath.
Then, softer, "You are not what I was told."
"And you," I shot back, smirking, "are not nearly as boring as I expected."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between us, broken only by the fountain's song and the distant hum of music from the ballroom.
His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile.
"Bold," he said finally, voice low. "Very bold."
I shrugged and flopped back down into the grass, arms splayed like a starfish. "Bold keeps me alive. Besides, what's the point of being a princess if I can't tell people exactly what I think?"
He laughed then, quiet but genuine, the kind of laugh that slipped out despite himself.
My eyes fluttered closed. "You should get going. You don't want to be seen with an ungraceful Princess sprawled lazily in the garden."
I cracked one eye open to find him still standing there, arms folded, studying me like some peculiar riddle.
"Well?" I said, smirking. "Are you just going to loom there all night? It's very stalker-ish, you know."
His lips twitched again. "And very unprincess-like. I must say."
"Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment."
For a moment, his gaze softened...barely. Then he stepped back into the lantern's edge, shadows reclaiming him.
"Rest well, Princess," he said, inclining his head the tiniest fraction. "Maybe the garden shall be kinder to you than the hall."
"Wait." I pushed myself up onto my elbows. "You can't just walk off all mysterious after judging me. What's your name, anyway? Don't tell me it's Classified."
He paused, glancing over his shoulder. The faintest smirk tugged at his mouth.
"Kaelric," he said simply. "Prince Kaelric of Ardinvale."
And before I could say anything , he disappeared into the shadows.
My gaze lingered on the spot where he stood. I didn't care who he was...but one thing stood out .
He didn't speak in that super archaic language everybody used.
Old, yes but better.
I stayed a bit more, almost forgetting that there was a ball going on. A ball in which I was the chief celebrant.
I stood, grabbing my shoes and noticing all too soon, the dirt on my gown.
I huffed, glaring at the stubborn streaks of green smeared across my gown.
No matter how hard I brushed, the dirt clung like it had sworn a royal oath to embarrass me.
"Perfect. Just perfect. Princess of Grass Stains, that's me," I muttered, stomping into the wardrobe chamber.
The racks of gowns loomed over me like judgmental giants, every last one stiff, shiny, and screaming uncomfortable.
After rifling through endless layers of velvet and satin, I found one that was at least lighter.
"Not good, but better," I grumbled, wriggling into it before anyone noticed.
When I stepped back into the ballroom, the entire place froze.
Conversations died mid-sentence. Every pair of eyes turned on me.
The maids looked like they'd seen a ghost...where had I gone? why was I in another dress?...and for a second, I wanted to vanish right back through the doors.
Instead, I squared my shoulders and marched in like I belonged there.
The king...my supposed father...rose at once, smiling proudly as if none of this were strange.
"The first dance," he announced, taking my hand.
And so it began.
Alistair, the ever-smirking older brother came next. "Try not to trip this time, little sister," he teased.
I stepped firmly on his foot in reply, enjoying the hiss that escaped him.
Next was Cedric, stiff and formal, barely meeting my eyes as though he might break me if he looked too long.
Then came the endless line of princes...bowing, smiling, twirling me until I couldn't tell one from the other.
Round and round. My gown swirled, jewels glinted, and the music blurred into a dizzy hum.
My chest tightened and the floor seemed to tilt beneath me.
"Another dance, Your Highness?" a prince asked, his hand waiting.
I tried to nod. One step. Two. My vision blurred. Three...
The music screeched to a halt as my knees buckled.
Gasps filled the hall.
The prince caught my arm, but my body slipped from his grasp, heavy and limp.
The last thing I saw before everything went black was the king's face twisting in horror and Alistair's smirk finally shattering into something that looked alarmingly like fear.
Then...darkness.