The announcement came at dawn.
A grand masquerade ball.In honor of peace between the warring noble factions.A celebration of unity, they said.
But I knew better.Everyone did.
A masquerade was not a dance.It was a hunt.A place where daggers were hidden behind smiles, and betrayal wore perfume.
I stood at my window, watching the couriers spread the invitations across the city.Gold-trimmed envelopes, each sealed with the royal crest.Beautiful. Extravagant.
And absolutely soaked in blood.
"My lord."Ronan appeared behind me, his voice low."The invitations have reached the merchant guilds and the minor lords. They're all attending."
"Of course they are."I smirked."Vultures never miss the scent of a fresh corpse."
I turned away from the window and faced my loyal right hand."Tell our people: every alley rat, every discarded soldier, every whisper broker — I want eyes inside that ballroom."
"And Evelyne, my lord?" Ronan asked carefully.
My smile sharpened."Especially Evelyne.She'll move her pieces that night.And I'll be watching… ready to snatch them away before she even realizes."
Across the palace, Evelyne sat before her mirror, the mask resting in her lap.
White porcelain, painted with crimson filigree.Delicate. Elegant.Deceptive.
Just like her.
Her maid fastened the last pearl into her braid, hands trembling."My lady, they say this ball… it will be dangerous. Perhaps you shouldn't—"
Evelyne's voice cut through the room, soft but icy."Prepare my dress.The darker, the better."
She rose, lifting the mask to her face, her reflection splitting in two.The perfect princess.And the ruthless schemer beneath.
Her fingers traced the edges of the mask."Soon, Leonhart. Soon…"
As the night of the ball arrived, the entire capital transformed.
Lanterns lit the streets in gold and crimson.Silk banners fluttered from every window.The scent of spiced wine and roasted meats filled the air, masking the stench of fear and ambition.
The palace gates opened, and the guests flooded in — nobles, merchants, diplomats, each hiding behind elaborate masks.Peacocks. Wolves. Serpents.All pretending this was a party, when it was really a battlefield.
I stepped into the ballroom dressed in black and silver, my mask shaped like a snarling beast.
The music swelled, but beneath the melody, I could almost hear the whispers:"That's the cursed prince.""Stay away from him.""Dangerous.""Unpredictable."
Good.Let them fear me.
Fear was the sharpest weapon in my arsenal.
But then—
She arrived.
Evelyne.
Dressed in midnight blue, her mask shimmering like a dying star.Her entrance silenced the room.
Elegant. Graceful.And utterly lethal.
Our eyes met across the ballroom.Brother and sister.Enemies bound by blood.Co-conspirators in a game only we understood.
I raised my glass in mock salute.She tilted her head, lips curling into the faintest of smiles.
It wasn't warmth.It was challenge.
The music changed.A waltz.
Couples took to the floor.Masks spun and twirled, hiding intent and identity alike.
And then, as if fate itself demanded it—Evelyne stepped forward.So did I.
Our hands met at the center of the floor.Cool fingers against mine, stiff and formal.
We danced.
The world blurred around us, voices fading into meaningless noise.
Her voice, soft as velvet but edged like glass, brushed my ear:"Enjoying your little army of rats, brother?"
I chuckled darkly, my grip tightening around her waist."Almost as much as you enjoy plucking noble sons from their fathers' shadows."
Her heel tapped against mine — an intentional, almost imperceptible jab.A warning.A threat.A promise.
I spun her hard, forcing her to stumble before she caught herself, smiling sweetly as if nothing had happened.The other guests clapped, oblivious to the duel happening beneath their noses.
Around us, deals were being made in whispers.Promises exchanged.Knives sharpened.
And neither of us missed a single one.
When the dance ended, I released her hand and leaned in, voice low:"Careful, Evelyne. Some masks are harder to take off once you've worn them too long."
She turned her face slightly, her breath cool against my cheek."And some monsters forget they were human once, Leonhart."
We parted then, stepping back into the sea of courtiers and snakes.
But I could feel it — the storm tightening.The tension crackling between us like a drawn bowstring.
Tonight, no blood would be spilled.Not yet.
But the knives were out.And they gleamed sharper than ever beneath the golden light.
Above, the chandeliers glittered.Below, the players danced.
And somewhere in the dark corners of the palace, fate held its breath.