Chapter 33: _ My Audacity Spun Curiosity

Before I could understand what they meant, Around me, nobles suddenly came alive. Girls who had been pretending not to watch Remus immediately straightened their backs.

One adjusted her neckline. Another smoothed her hair.

A third whispered hysterically to her friend. "Is my necklace crooked?"

"Fix your sleeves. Gods, fix your sleeves!"

"Do I look approachable or mysterious?"

"You look desperate."

"So does everyone else."

The girl immediately smoothed down her curls, checking her reflection in the polished surface of a nearby pillar.

Another girl nearby gasped, immediately adjusting the straps of her gown. "Do you think the silver is too much?"

"You’re trying too hard."

"Then what should I do?"

"Look effortless."

"How does one look effortlessly beautiful?!"

"I don’t know! Just stop panicking!"

I stared at them in disbelief. Was this normal?

Were noble girls always one royal glance away from losing their minds?

Bren crossed her arms. "This is embarrassing."

Miriel, however, looked completely fascinated.

"Oh my gods," she whispered. "He’s choosing someone."

My stomach dropped. "Choosing someone for what?"

Miriel turned to me like I had just asked what a dragon was.

"The first dance."

I frowned. "The first dance?"

"At the Initiation Gala, the royal heirs traditionally invite someone of their choice to open the dance floor," she explained, her eyes still fixed on Remus. "It’s considered a great honor."

Around us, the panic intensified. Girls whispered. Jewelry was adjusted. Hair was fixed. Perfume bottles appeared from nowhere.

A few ambitious nobles even stepped subtly into better lighting, pretending they had not moved at all.

My throat dried up.

Not because I thought he was looking at me. That would have been ridiculous.

I had already learned that this realm contained enough disasters without adding the Dragon Prince to the list.

But judging by the way every girl around me suddenly looked ready to throw herself into his path, someone was about to have a very memorable night.

Imagine being chosen for that dance amidst this ravenous crowd. If I were that unlucky girl, I’d ask the earth to open up and swallow me whole.

I watched the room transform from an elegant gathering of future leaders into a battlefield where the weapons were eyelashes, expensive gowns, and desperate confidence.

Then I looked back toward Prince Remus. He wasn’t even looking at any of them.

His eyes were still searching. Searching for something...

...Or someone.

And then, his eyes fell on me and stopped.

My heart stopped along with it.

His eyes were as silvery as moonlight, cut through by striking red irises that narrowed into razor-thin slits the exact second our gazes collided.

An audible gasp tore from my throat.

Those eyes.

I knew those eyes. I had seen them in my nightmares, in my quietest memories, and in the deep corners of my mind every single night for the last eight years. I had never seen another pair like them in my life.

No. No, it’s impossible.

This was the Dragon Prince. The golden heir to the most powerful throne in all the realms. There was no way he was the same broken boy I had found crying beneath a stone archway eight years ago when I fled Lord Griffith’s estate.

Yet, as I stared at him, I saw it. The silver hair was still braided in the exact same distinct, royal pattern as the boy from my past. The sharp jawline carried nearly the same structure.

My head throbbed violently as my mind fought the reality staring me in the face.

A Dragon Prince wouldn’t make a promise to a trench-born, markless nobody. A Dragon Prince wouldn’t hold a weeping girl’s hands in the dirt and promise to come back and claim her as his wife.

We weren’t just from two different worlds—we were separated by an ocean of blood, status, and power. It wasn’t possible.

He can’t be him.

My mind screamed at me to deny it, because believing it meant facing a devastating truth: the boy a buried part of my heart had spent eight long years waiting for—the boy I had spent years trying to convince myself was dead to me—was standing right in front of me.

And he was someone I could never, ever have.

Hence, my mind searched desperately for another explanation.

Maybe all dragons with silver eyes had red slits. But I knew that was ridiculous. We all had silver hair—some, like me, with colored tinges, but not the same eye color.

Never the same eye color.

How about the hair? Maybe every noble dragon wore their hair like that.

Maybe grief had finally made me lose my mind.

The noise of the ballroom faded into a dull, distant buzz. The glittering lights, the golden Lion architecture, the scent of heavy perfume... all of it blurred into background noise.

Eight years of silent grief, abandoned hope, and suppressed anger surged to the surface all at once, snapping the tether holding my sanity together.

Before I could process what I was doing, my legs moved.

"Elira! What are you doing?!" Miriel hissed in a panicked whisper, reaching out to grab my skirt.

She missed. It was too late. I had completely lost my senses.

I stepped out from behind the safety of the fountain and walked directly into the center of the main aisle.

Whispers turned into shocked exclamations as the crowd realized what I was doing.

A girl in a red gown was walking directly toward Prince Remus.

For a moment, confusion replaced judgment.

"Who is she?"

"I’ve never seen her before."

"Is she from one of the old families?"

"She must be. Look at her."

"Perhaps a hidden branch of a noble house?"

I could feel the room studying me differently. I expected to hear the disgust in their tone but they were trying to place me. Because in this world, beauty, confidence, and expensive clothing meant something.

They assumed I belonged since I was bathed in luxury thanks to Warden Clement and Miriel.

A noble girl near the staircase tilted her head. "Does anyone know her family?"

"No idea."

"Could she be from the outer territories?"

"No. Someone from there wouldn’t be wearing a gown like that."

For a few seconds, I understood why people chased status.

It wasn’t just the gold and the power.

It was this.

The assumption that you belonged before you even spoke.

If only they knew the truth.

There was no powerful family. No hidden title.

Just me. A nobody from a village in Stonewick.

The daughter of a woman who warmed the beds of every noble men in a household.

A girl who had arrived here in a carriage she never asked for, wearing a dress she never earned.

Then, I heard a voice that was entirely too familiar...