When I re-enter the ballroom, people are dancing. This is not a good sign. People dancing means the ball has officially started. For the ball to start, both guests of honour must be present. That means Duke Rasiel has finally made an appearance, and I missed it. Not exactly a good thing, although at this point, I am beyond caring.   

  

Thankfully, Sebastian has led me in through a side door, meaning no one has seen me enter the ballroom. I can sneak up behind Giddeon, avoid the official greeting, and very loudly declare that I will not be marrying a dickwad before anyone can stop me. After my rather public display with the marquess, most guests will probably be very aware of my movements. If I can manage to stay to the edges of the room and linger behind Sebastian a little, I should be able to avoid being recognised before the big moment.   

  

‘You have been gone for quite some time, your highness.’ I think it is Prince Hayden who has found me, and I curse under my breath. But when I turn around, I am confronted by Duke Virfain.   

  

‘Your grace.’ I move to curtsey but the duke holds up their hand to stop me.  

  

‘Such formalities are not needed when we have not yet been formally introduced.’ I smile.  

  

‘Indeed, then maybe this will suffice?’ I reach out my hand to them as they did to me before. The corner of their mouth twitches as I do so.   

  

‘It shall.’ The duke accepts my hand and shakes it, firm and brief. ‘But I feel a formal introduction is required.’  

  

‘Let us not pretend that we do not know who the other is.’ I pause for a moment, glancing at Sebastian who is standing beside me, doing a very good job at blending into his environment. ‘If you require a formal introduction, then let me introduce you to Viscount Sebastian Forbes, my personal attendant and… friend.’ The last word comes out a little stranger than I intend it to, and Sebastian looks at me as if I have just run him through with a sword, a kind of panic with a tinge of betrayal. I watch the duke. Is this a test? Maybe. I’m tired, and my brain isn’t doing what it should be.  

  

The duke doesn’t even pause. They bow, something they did not offer even Prince Hayden, and offer their hand.  

  

‘A pleasure, Lord Forbes. I am Duke Elyon Virfain.’ Sebastian, professional even in his shocked state, doesn’t miss a beat and accepts the duke’s hand.   

  

‘The pleasure is mine, your grace.’ If it was a test, the duke just passed. I can see the shock on Sebastian’s face as well, but the duke is the picture of propriety as if nothing is afoot. Quickly, so as not to seem odd, I place my hand on Sebastian’s arm and give it a small squeeze. I never suspected the duke would be rude to Sebastian, and I want him to know this. Sebastian has become dear to me and deserves the same respect as I do. A lot of words to convey through a small, seemingly meaningless gesture, but Sebastian is smart.  

  

‘There,’ I say, ‘all need for formal introductions met, and we can carry on like normal.’ The duke meets my gaze for a few, long moments.  

  

‘You are strange, your highness.’ I have to stop myself from laughing out loud in a very unladylike manner. They don’t even know the half of it.  

  

‘Many people have mentioned something of the sort to me recently. Although I would assume it is not a shock; I do have a reputation, your grace.’ A small frown disturbs the duke’s perfect features.  

  

‘I am aware, your highness, but that was not my intended meaning. I choose to judge an individual based on what I have seen, not what I have heard, and you are very different when compared to my expectations.’ So, this is what it feels like to be a pixie dream girl, to be called ‘different’ by such a stunning face. I guess I am fundamentally different, in a way. I’m not Lyra. But I also think the bar is very low if a simple introduction on behalf of my attendant is enough to cause a stir.  

  

‘I’m sure you flatter me, your grace, unnecessarily, I might add.’ The duke frowns again. It’s a shame to see such a pretty face contort in such a way.  

  

‘You have misunderstood me again, your highness.’ This time I allow myself to laugh, just a little.  

  

‘Then I shall blame the duke, for not properly expressing their meaning.’ In a sadistic sense, this is quite funny, but more than anything I’m tired. Talking to these people means constantly reading between the lines, being on edge in case a compliment is actually an insult, a simple statement actually a threat. At this point, I have forgotten the original goal of the evening and am floating around in leftover anger I don’t quite know where to direct.  

  

‘I was referring to your ability to see logic when others cannot, your loyalty to your staff, and your disregard for tradition in the face of injustice compared to your seemingly random decision to ruin the marquess’ outfit.’ The duke’s tone is level, but it seems I have caused some level of exasperation.   

  

‘And has this ruined your opinion of me?’   

  

‘No, it has simply made me curious.’ Another moment of silence, and the duke meets my gaze in a way I can only describe as captivating. ‘Is my opinion important to you, your highness?’ Now it’s my turn to take a moment.   

  

‘If I want to ask a favour of the duke, I suppose it should be.’ But right now, I am struggling to give a shit about anything except being able to yell in Giddeon’s face, a desperately needed chance to vent my anger.  

  

‘Then tell me the reason you bathed the marquess.’ I sigh, tired and overwhelmed and not wanting to hold onto the information on my own any longer.  

  

‘Perhaps you should ask the young lady he was speaking to.’ Said with a touch more venom than intended, a little unfair considering the duke is not the person who has committed a crime.  

  

‘Ah,’ and something clicks into place in the duke’s mind, and they suddenly seem more understanding and also a little surprised, ‘another gift, I suppose?’ My anger is quite sudden and I struggle to contain it.  

  

‘You are remarkably well informed, your grace.’ I bark the words out, trying to keep my voice at a normal level. ‘It leads me to wonder why you did not aid the young lady if you knew.’ The duke doesn’t seem to be offended. They just keep looking at me with that level gaze.   

  

‘I was unaware of today’s situation.’  

  

‘But you have been aware of other ‘situations’?’ The duke’s indifference is grating on me.  

  

‘I am not often in the capital, your highness. I work off rumours, although you have just confirmed them.’ This deflates me and makes a lot of sense. ‘And I wonder why you did not publicly condemn the marquess when you discovered the truth. We are in a very crowded ballroom; even an allegation would be damaging.’ And with those words, my hackles are once again raised. I feel a little on edge and I don’t like it.  

  

‘No one is likely to believe someone with my reputation, your grace.’   

  

‘That did not stop you when talking to Prince Hayden. It also did not prevent you from sending a letter north.’ The duke is watching me closely. They are right, but that was before today. That was before this story became quite so real to me, before I saw what was waiting in the wings.  

  

‘A direct approach, with my reputation, would be the same as hitting my head against a wall, your grace. It would achieve nothing.’ The duke is still watching me, but they nod as if I have said the right thing.   

  

‘Perhaps I hold my tongue for a similar reason. The word of a duke against the king, even one such as Baldwin, is unlikely to end with sufficient payment for the crime.’  

  

‘There is more than one way to pay for a crime.’ I mutter under my breath.   

  

‘I am inclined to agree with you, your highness.’ The duke leans in closer as they lower their voice, their closeness causing my cheeks to flush. Sebastian seems a little restless standing beside me. I’m getting some intense motherly vibes from him right at this moment and he doesn’t seem to be a big fan of how close me and the duke are standing.   

  

Neither I nor the duke say anything for a full minute, and we seem to settle into a slightly tense silence. We are standing at the ballroom's outer edge, having not moved since the conversation began. A server passes us, and the duke takes a glass of wine for themselves before offering one to me. I glance at Sebastian who does not move to stop me. I gladly accept the glass and take a sip. Although I’m not the biggest fan of wine, something alcoholic would definitely help the night go a little smoother.   

  

Just as I am trying to think of a way to covertly abandon the duke so I can do what I came here to do (that is, tell Giddeon to go fuck himself), they suddenly ask a question.   

  

‘Do you enjoy dancing?’ It is such a random question, seemingly pulled out of thin air, that I don’t know how to answer, am not even sure they are talking to me.   

  

‘Ah, yes, you could say that, depending on the partner.’ The duke nods.   

  

‘Do you already have a dance partner?’ I frown, taking another sip of wine.   

  

‘Yes, my brother, Prince Rakan’. I show the duke my dance card, and Rakan’s hasty scrawling of his name over the first two lines.    

  

‘There are still three other spaces on your dance card, your highness.’ I nod, not quite sure if they are trying to ask what I think they are. It’s such a roundabout way of asking that I’m convinced I’m imagining things, but I sigh and say:  

  

‘If you would like to dance with me, your grace, you can just ask.’ The duke looks into their glass of wine  

  

‘I see.’ But they don’t ask. Instead, the silence continues for a few more moments until the duke places their glass on a nearby table and bows. ‘With the new upcoming tournament, I’m sure our paths with cross again, your highness.’ And with that, the duke disappears into the crowd and vanishes from sight.   

  

'Your highness, the duke seems...’   

  

‘Strange.’ I finish Sebastian’s sentence for him, feeling a little disorientated by the conversation. ‘Yes, they are a very strange individual.’ But I have uncovered some very useful information. The duke knows. Or at least the duke had heard rumours, enough rumours from a reliable enough source that they were inclined to believe it. As strange as the duke might be, they definitely seem interested in this information. If a marriage will not tempt them, nor an alliance with the royal family, perhaps a promise to act as a mole in the palace will. I need to know more about what the duke actually wants, but it’s a start. And it also means I can now happily trash Lyra’s reputation without worrying too much about what Duke Virfain will think. It seems they’re not exactly a stickler for etiquette or rules.   

  

With that in mind, let’s get this party on the road.  

  

*  

Finding Giddeon is not difficult. Unlike Duke Virfain, who seems determined to remain invisible until the moment they want to be seen, Giddeon draws attention like a moth to a flame. He is towards the back of the ballroom, near the throne, in conversation with the king. He has a mini entourage, a well-dressed woman standing next to him (I have no idea who this woman is, which is not comforting, but judging from looks she is likely his sister), an array of knights, and two personal attendants. Outside of his party, there is a large circle of people that seem to gravitate towards and around him. It’s a strange thing to see from afar, like watching planets orbit a sun, a forced indifference that does nothing to hide their desire to be near him.   

  

He is good-looking if tall, blonde, and handsome is your thing. But tall, blonde, and handsome is definitely Giddeon’s thing and he carries himself as if everyone is looking at him. Which they are. Because he is the male protagonist. The longer I spend in this novel, the more vehemently I hate its author.   

  

I haven’t exactly told anyone else what my plan is, and I have told no one about my trump card. Rakan was the one to point it out to me a few days ago in passing, but he has no idea that I am going to attempt to weaponize it this evening. Sebastian is currently standing next to me, clueless that I’m planning to make a scene. Sebastian being involved at all is definitely not a part of my (in all honesty, not very well thought out) plan. Keeping that in mind, I need a good reason for him to leave the room for at least thirty minutes. That should give me enough time to slap a bitch and leave a bitch. Thankfully, the large windows lining the left side of the ballroom have all been opened. Although it is technically summer, the evenings still feel like spring and there is a slight chill in the air. I fake a shiver and turn to Sebastian.  

  

‘Would you fetch me my shall, please, Sebastian? It’s a little cold with the windows open.’ He looks at me for a moment and I can see a look of suspicion in his eyes. It seems his motherly attitude has given him a keen instinct, so keen it’s like he knows I’m lying.   

  

‘Yes, your highness.’ He says eventually. ‘I will be right back. Please, wait for me here.’ I know he is asking me not to get entangled in any other ‘situations’. I smile and nod, watching him walk away and feeling a little guilty. But not for long. As soon as he has left the ballroom, I make a beeline for Giddeon and his little solar system. I puff out my chest, straighten my back, and square my shoulders. I let the anger I’ve been trying to suppress simmer to the surface, let it make me braver and louder.   

  

‘I find it hard to believe that the duke has taken this long to introduce himself to his fiancé.’ My voice is loud, and as I emerge from the crowd all eyes are on me. Including Giddeon and the king. Although King Baldwin looks like he wants me to disappear. ‘However, I will forgive you, Duke Rasiel. It is only a temporary engagement, so I understand your desire to forgo formalities.’  

  

It is impossible to deny that Giddeon is beautiful. Standing this close to him, I can see he has perfectly symmetrical features and his blue eyes are what you might call piercing. But he also looks exactly like some typical American frat boy type you find in old-school millennium romcoms. It makes it easier to dislike him. Those piercing eyes of his appraise me, narrowing as he does, before he bows a little stiffly.  

  

‘My apologies, your highness. Allow me to belatedly introduce myself…’  

  

‘No need. We do not need to be acquainted. Once we are no longer engaged we shall be strangers, and strangers have no need to be introduced if they are never to meet again.’ It seems like the king is trying to burn me alive on the spot with his eyes.   

  

‘Lyra, what kind of joke is this?’ I turn to give the king a steely stare.   

  

‘Your majesty, I would appreciate you not referring to me using my first name. It is uncomfortable having a stranger act so familiar with me.’ There is an intense silence, the tension so thick it becomes difficult to breathe. But I don’t back down. In such a setting, the king can’t react like he did before. This gives me a chance to act as rudely as I want while the king has to police his actions. And either way, he deserves it. When I met with him before, he was unnecessarily aggressive. In every memory Lyra has of the man, he is verbally abusive and short-tempered. My mother dated a man like this in my old life. I don’t have to put up with it again.  

  

Giddeon is watching me closely. There is something happening on his face, leaving him with a sort of shocked frown that isn’t exactly complimentary to his features. Eventually, the woman standing beside him, also blonde, blue-eyed, and beautiful, steps forward.  

  

‘If you will allow, your highness, I would like to introduce myself.’ She waits for me to answer before she continues, and I immediately like her more than her brother (not hard). ‘I am Eleanor Rasiel, lady of Vedian, and sister to Duke Rasiel.’ She curtseys, a gesture I return.  

  

‘My pleasure, Lady Rasiel. I am Princess Lyra Venvaris, the only princess of Lycium and daughter of King Baldwin.’ She smiles.  

  

‘I am honoured to meet you, your highness.’ Lady Rasiel glances at her brother before continuing. ‘If I may be so bold, your highness, we were under the impression that this ball was to celebrate my brother’s engagement with the princess.’ I smile at this. As it stands, I cannot be sure what side Lady Rasiel is on. However, her introduction has drawn a crowd, and nearly the whole ballroom has become hushed as the guests begin to gather and watch. No matter what she hopes to accomplish, Lady Rasiel has inadvertently helped me. I have an audience, now I just need to play out the performance.  

  

‘Then I am afraid you have been called here under false pretenses, my lady, for which I apologise.’ I pause, then raise my voice. ‘It seems the ducal family of Vedian has forgotten an essential part of the Lycium tradition of royal courting; the dowry.’ I let the word sit heavy in the air for a few moments before continuing. ‘Duke Rasiel cannot court me without first offering something valuable in exchange.’   

  

Giddeon audibly sighs, and the look of shock he was previously wearing changes to one of exasperation. I know what he is thinking. I am a stupid princess, unaware that what I am talking about is something he has already arranged. He relaxes into a look of condescension, to the point where he actually rolls his eyes.  

  

‘An exchange has already been made. I have agreed with the king an exchange of military personnel…’ I interrupt him mid-sentence.  

  

‘I’m sorry, your grace, but are you not familiar with the traditional rules when offering a royal dowry? According to official royal etiquette, you must bring the proposed dowry to me, not the king.’ This is true. I have checked this with Rakan, who found the exact book it is recorded in. It is not a law; as I said, it’s a tradition, a part of etiquette, something that isn’t always followed. But it might just be enough. I say it with my chest. Assume confidence and allow it to create doubt.   

  

Giddeon laughs. What an actual prick.  

  

‘There is no such rule, princess.’ The way he says the word princess makes me want to slap him.  

  

‘A dowry shall be presented to the royal in question, to their staff and to their aide, to be accepted or rejected at their discretion.’ I quote directly from the book in question, glad I took the time to memorise the passage. Giddeon scoffs at me.  

  

‘What are you saying, your highness?’  

  

‘She is quoting from ‘Code and Conduct’ written by the founding king of Lycium, Edvard the First. It is the same text we base our laws on.’ I am shocked at Lady Rasiel’s words. As she speaks, she is not looking at her brother, but instead at me. I can’t read the look on her face, and I cannot even begin to fathom why she is helping me, but I don’t question it.   

  

‘I was unaware that the Rasiel family had not followed proper royal etiquette. I apologise, your highness.’ As Lady Rasiel bows deeply, I glance at the king. That is a very unhappy-looking man, a man who seems unable to speak. I look at Giddeon. Oh gee, another very unhappy man.  

  

‘I was unaware of such a law…’ Giddeon starts, before the king interrupts him, finally finding his voice.  

  

‘There is no such law. These women are speaking falsehoods.’ The way King Baldwin says the word woman, the way he spits it out like it’s poison, makes me clench my fists. I take a few seconds to gather myself before I say something that will lose me any chance at an upper hand.  

  

‘I was unaware that the king held such little regard for traditions. It seems somewhat embarrassing that two women must remind you, your majesty.’ I glare at the king. His face is so red with anger it looks like it might explode. But there is a definite crowd now, and they are beginning to whisper and murmur. The knowledge I have learned about the king and the crown prince has allowed me to assume the king is not exactly popular, particularly within aristocratic circles. He has often overlooked tradition, famously by disrespecting the late empress and daring to have an illegitimate girl. How damning it must be to have that very daughter point out your lack of etiquette and regard for tradition. It’s more powerful coming from Lyra than it would be from anyone else.   

  

‘I shall receive your dowry, Duke Rasiel, along with all others offered, before any engagement is offered.’  

  

‘Who else would offer a dowry to a princess that does not know how to behave around a marquess?’ He glares at me, thinking he has gained some upper hand. ‘You think no one sees your behaviour?’  

  

‘And you think you can openly insult a member of the Venvaris family, Duke Rasiel?’ I take a few steps closer to him, not exactly in his face, but enough to intimidate him. ‘Who do you think gave you that title?’  

  

‘You are not the king.’ Another step closer and I’m able to lower my voice.  

  

‘Neither are you, no matter how much you chase it like a wild dog.’ Why else would he marry Lyra? Why else would he have kept up the engagement for so long in the novel? It is a guess, but judging by the look on Giddeon’s face, it’s hit some kind of nerve.  

  

‘Lyra…’ The king says my name as a warning.  

  

‘Your majesty, I must ask you again not to use my name. As a stranger, it makes me uncomfortable.’ I look towards the king as I speak, then back at Giddeon. ‘I shall receive your dowry, Duke Rasiel, and I shall discuss with my aide if it is suitable. Although, if this exchange is anything to judge you by, then I imagine I shall find you extremely lacking.’ If nothing else, then I have definitely caused a scene. There is a wave of murmurs making their way around the ballroom. I’m not sure what the general attitude of the room is, but it should start rumours of discontent, of a false engagement, and if nothing else then at the very least how inadequate Lyra is to be engaged to such a prominent and important figure. An illegitimate brat with attitude cannot marry such a coveted man.  

  

Before leaving, I turn to Lady Rasiel, giving her a curtsey. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady Rasiel. I hope to meet you again under better circumstances.’ Lady Rasiel smiles and returns the curtsey.   

  

‘It is an honour, your highness, that is my hope as well.’ I give her one more close look, trying to read her face, trying to understand why she helped me rather than her brother. I make a mental note to send her an invitation to afternoon tea to try and figure her out.   

  

With one last look at the king and at Giddeon, both of whom seem to be barely containing their anger but are unable to speak, completely unprepared for my words, I leave the ballroom. All eyes are on me as I make my way across the room. Despite my discomfort, I congratulate myself on having achieved my goal. I have made a scene. I will not be marrying Giddeon.