In the Shadow of the Crown

Chapter 24: A Dance with Shadows

Eliza stood before the grand mirror in her chamber, her reflection framed by the flickering glow of candlelight. The silk of her gown cascaded over her figure like liquid midnight, its deep sapphire hue shimmering with every breath she took. The bodice was embroidered with delicate silver thread, curling into intricate patterns that whispered of nobility and restraint. Yet the daring cut of the neckline, exposing the soft curve of her collarbone and the fading mark Raen had left told another story entirely.

She traced the bruise with the tip of her gloved fingers, her expression unreadable. Let them see the battlefield, Raen had said. And now, she was about to walk into it.

The banquet would be a spectacle. A carefully orchestrated performance where every glance, every word, was a blade sharpened for war.

A knock at the door.

“Eliza.” A voice smooth as velvet, yet edged with amusement.

She turned to find Elric leaning against the doorway. Dressed in a deep navy doublet adorned with silver embroidery, he looked every bit the perfect nobleman the golden prince the court adored. His tailored coat fit him with effortless elegance, the high collar framing his sharp features, his gloved hands resting idly at his sides. A sapphire pin, the crest of his house, gleamed against the fabric, catching the light.

But it was his eyes that unsettled her.

Cool. Calculating. A storm brewing beneath the surface.

“You look exquisite,” he murmured, stepping closer.

She did not move as he reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips with the grace of a man who had spent his life mastering the art of deception. His lips barely brushed against her glove, but the message was clear.

Possession.

Expectation.

A performance they were both bound to play.

“I assume you approve of the dress,” she said dryly.

His smirk widened. “Oh, I approve of many things tonight.” His gaze flickered lower to the barely concealed mark on her throat before meeting her eyes again. “Though I must say, your choice of accessories is…bold.”

She did not flinch. Did not avert her gaze.

“I thought you liked bold,” she countered.

A chuckle, dark and knowing. “I do. But let’s see if our dear Duke Raen appreciates your defiance as much as I do.”

Her fingers curled at the mention of his name, but she forced herself to remain composed.

[Raen will be there.]

The thought sent a slow, measured pulse through her veins. [What would he do when he saw her at Elric’s side? When he saw the ring that now adorned her finger - a symbol of a union she had never agreed to?]

[Would he stay silent?]

[Or would he burn the entire court to the ground?]

“Shall we?” Elric extended his arm.

She hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand atop his.

Because tonight, hesitation could mean death.

***

The ballroom of the royal palace gleamed with opulence. Chandeliers hung like frozen constellations, casting a golden glow over the marble floors. Silk banners draped from the vaulted ceilings, embroidered with the sigils of noble houses, a reminder that power here was both inherited and contested.

Eliza walked at Elric’s side, her chin lifted, her steps measured. The murmurs began the moment they entered. She could feel their gazes, their curiosity. The countess returns. The bride-to-be. But what of the Duke?

And then, as if conjured by the whispers themselves, she felt it.

A presence.

Dark. Commanding.

A slow, deliberate shift in the atmosphere.

She turned her head and there he was.

Raen.

Standing near the grand staircase, clad in black and crimson.

His coat, adorned with the insignia of his house, bore intricate gold embroidery - regal, yet menacing. A high-collared tunic, fastened with silver buttons, framed his broad shoulders, while the deep red sash at his waist spoke of nobility, of bloodlines older than the kingdom itself.

And his eyes - molten gold, fixed on her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

Eliza could not look away.

Nor could he.

The music swelled around them, yet the ballroom had gone silent.

Elric, ever perceptive, let out a soft chuckle. “Ah. And so the wolf arrives.”

Raen moved then.

Slow. Purposeful.

Crossing the room with the ease of a predator that knew there was no true competition.

He did not acknowledge Elric.

Did not acknowledge anyone.

His gaze was only for her.

“Eliza.”

Her name, a low murmur that sent warmth curling through her chest.

Raen reached for her hand, fingers brushing against hers in a touch that was neither forceful nor pleading. It was a challenge. A silent question.

[Will you take my hand?]

A sharp inhale. A heartbeat suspended between them.

And then. Elric’s grip tightened on her waist. A subtle, possessive reminder.

“Eliza,” Elric murmured, low enough for only her to hear. “Choose wisely.”

The entire court watched.

Waiting.

And in that moment, she realized...

No matter whose hand she took…

She was already lost.