A New Year’s masquerade ball was always an event to remember. The grand throne room of Zolhida’s opulent palace shimmered tonight, not just with festive decorations and the flickering glow of countless candles that chased away the heavy half-darkness, but also with the sparkle of precious gems adorning the myriad costumes and masks. The esteemed guests, hidden behind their disguises, played a game of deception, each trying to outwit the others about their true identities. Tonight, everyone was incognito, and that made the revelry all the more thrilling.
With such thoughts swirling in his mind, Prince Derek, the younger brother of King Frank of Sevalia, sipped the last of his favorite wine from a crystal goblet, barely concealing a satisfied smirk. His gaze lingered on three unknown ladies who curtsied before the royal balcony, their ample bosoms nearly spilling from their low-cut gowns. The young, self-assured, dark-haired charmer followed them with his eyes, already concocting an excuse to leave the royal entourage and descend into the hall to, as it were, mingle more closely with the people.
Every grand celebration of this scale inevitably ended for Derek in the royal chambers, wrapped in the arms of some pretty baroness or viscountess. Tonight, he had no intention of breaking this fine tradition. Though, he’d need to be more discerning in his choice—or rather, make sure to uncover who hid behind the mask before whisking them off to bed. The last thing he needed was to accidentally seduce a visiting princess and spark an international scandal. His brother wouldn’t pat him on the head for that, and Derek had no plans to tie the knot anytime soon.
“Take a good look, Derek. We’ve gathered the cream of the crop once again. Maybe you’ll finally spot your future bride among them!” King Frank’s voice cut through his musings, as if on cue. A happily married man and a stern ruler, Frank saw it as his duty to mold his younger brother into a mirror image of himself—minus the crown, of course. But Derek had his own ideas, and he believed his dear family ought to respect them. At least, that’s what he told himself.
“I’m still young,” Derek waved off the suggestion with a grimace. He scanned the crowd of guests and grimaced again. Masks, turbans, shawls... This year, the court tailors and designers had outdone themselves. The young beauties had set a new trend—completely concealing their faces while boldly showcasing their décolletage. If the eyes were hidden, there was no shame to be had! “Besides, how am I supposed to recognize anyone? They’re all in masks!”
“Look with the eyes of your heart,” Queen Ariella chimed in, her voice warm and teasing. The raven-haired, flawless beauty—mother to Prince Charles and Princess Denila—was the only member of the dynasty Derek truly felt a kinship with. Spirited and fierce, the daughter of a former bandit, she had unmasked spies in her youth, saved Zolhida from a coup, and even rescued Frank from certain death. Now, she was a respected benefactor to the people, a loyal friend, and the king’s steadfast companion.
“Every man has a duty to build a strong, happy family, and you’re a prince, the king’s brother! You’re our lion!” King Arlet, cousin to Frank and Derek and ruler of the United Alliance of Kingdoms, joined the conversation. His reign had been forged by his wife, the legendary Elsa of Endalasia. Yet, despite their regal status, at Zolhida’s court, this couple was not merely monarchs but cherished family, always welcomed with open arms.
“Easy for you to say! In our Alliance, there were only two women worthy of being called lionesses, and you and Frank snatched them up! The rest... they’re second-rate. I can’t choose from among them,” Derek protested, his face twisting into another scowl.
“With that attitude, you’ll never marry. Shall I take matters into my own hands? I’ve got a knack for this,” Queen Elsa of the Alliance offered with a radiant smile. After all, it was she who had arranged the marriage of Zolhida’s monarchs a decade ago.
“No, thanks,” Derek shot back, adjusting his mask and taking a step toward escape. “I’ll marry when I find the one who takes my hand, kisses me, and leads me away—and when, among a hundred others, I see only her!”
With an exaggerated bow, the prince bolted toward the crowd, blending into the sea of revelers.
Remembering exactly where those three beauties had paused, Derek easily identified one as Baroness Arska, whom he’d tried to charm at the last ball before being distracted by an easier conquest. Well, tonight, lovely Angelina, it’s your turn to entertain His Highness after this grand affair.
But in an instant, the baroness was forgotten. Derek’s attention—along with that of everyone nearby—was captured by another lady. Slender and delicate, she danced alone, seemingly needing no partner. She twirled, spun, and clapped her hands, merging with the lively, upbeat music, becoming one with its rhythm. Dressed in a bronze-brown gown with a daringly deep neckline and a tight corset, she was utterly captivating, intriguing, and stirring. Yet, frustratingly, her face was hidden behind a thick veil, and her hair was completely tucked beneath a turban, not a single strand visible. So unlike anyone else, so unique...
The music played on, but she stopped. Turning to face the prince, she glided through the crowd of rivals with ease, her steps soft and silent, as if she floated. She extended her hand to the handsome prince, confidently taking his, and he, as if spellbound, surrendered. He became the one so easily led.
They left the crowded, noisy hall, venturing far down a corridor...
“Hey there, who are you, beautiful? What’s your plan? If you’re here to kill me, at least kiss me first—I’m all yours. You dance like a dream; I’m breathless just watching you. Do you know who I am? Where are you taking me?”
Questions... So many questions. His voice rang with amusement. He had no idea what was happening, but he felt strong enough to take control of the situation at any moment.
The girl hurried down the corridor, holding the prince’s hand tightly. Who knows where they might have ended up if Derek hadn’t grown tired of playing along. Abruptly stopping, he tugged her hand, pulling her into his embrace. He tried to lift her veil, but she wouldn’t allow it, quickly intercepting his hands with her own and guiding them to her waist. This turn of events suited them both just fine.
“Who are you?” he asked again, now utterly baffled.
“Your destiny,” she declared with certainty.
“So this is what it looks like!” Derek laughed, a skeptical chuckle escaping him. “Then I’m obliged to see you.”
“I’ve no objection, but on one condition,” she whispered, her voice soft as velvet. It was clear and tender, pleasing to the prince’s ear. Her waist was slim and firm. Her figure, unlike her face, was on full display, drawing his gaze. She was what they call an hourglass. If only he could peek beneath that veil, it would be perfection!
“What condition?” he asked, raising a curious brow. Without a word, the girl pulled a handkerchief from her neckline and began to tie it over the prince’s eyes. Then, she gently took his hand and placed it on her cheek.
“Look with the eyes of your heart...”
“I’ve heard that one already today,” Derek muttered, deciding this lady must be one of Queen Elsa’s entourage—such whimsy was just like her. Better not to argue. If she didn’t want to show her face now, he’d see it later. Resolving to get acquainted through touch, he gently traced her cheek, feeling a dimple form under his fingers, then the frame of long lashes, a small nose, high forehead, sharp cheekbones, and a chin with another dimple. Honestly, it was quite unusual. And somehow, he found himself enjoying it.
“You must be very beautiful,” he smiled, sensing her smile in return as her full lips widened.
“So, can I kill you if I kiss you?” her voice teased, dripping with sarcasm.
“If I like the kiss...” the heir grinned broadly.
“Let’s find out...”
Derek hadn’t anticipated what came next. The lady stepped forward, pressing him closer to the wall, and softly met his lips with hers. Her hands flew up, wrapping around his neck, while he, stunned by her boldness, held her tightly, his hands gliding down her back to her hips and up to her neck. Her gown, with its bare shoulders, invited further exploration of her velvety skin, so pleasant to touch. Under his fingers, he felt a small mole on her right shoulder blade, and a few soft strands of hair, like cotton, slipped from beneath her turban. Meanwhile, their lips melded in a surge of tenderness, sensuality, and passion. This kiss was unlike anything the young man had ever experienced, and somewhere deep within, something trembled faintly.
“Well, how was it?” she whispered against his lips, catching her breath after the intensity he hadn’t expected from himself.
“Not enough to say for sure,” was all he could manage, reaching for her lips again... this... stranger... So bewildered by what had just happened. By what he suddenly felt...
“Then find me. When you do, you can kiss me as much as you want...” she said, placing a small pendant into his palm. And then... she slipped from his strong grasp as swiftly as she had come. The sound of her heels echoed down the corridor. Derek stood there, stunned. Finally snapping back to reality, he yanked the handkerchief from his eyes and looked around, only to find no one there. He darted one way, then the other... Where had she gone? He rushed back to the festive hall, scanning the unfamiliar masquerade costumes. Nothing. He stepped onto the royal balcony, thinking he might spot her from above if the mysterious lady was still there.
“Derek, what’s wrong?” familiar voices called out nearby, but the prince didn’t hear them, still lost in those sweet, unsettling moments.
He remembered what he still held, clenched between his fingers. A small, heart-shaped silver medallion burned with the warmth of his palm.
So many questions swirled in his mind... What had happened? Who was she? And most of all—why was his heart pounding so fiercely?