Chapter 443: A Cold Glance Across a Crowded Room

"Your Highness? Your Highness!"

Alderon followed Nerissa Delvaris as she made her way toward the balcony. When Harlond called out to him, Alderon simply raised a finger to his lips, giving him a quick shushing gesture.

Alderon adjusted the silk cuffs, letting his fingers brush against the golden thread as he stepped out onto the moonlit stone terrace. His usual easy charm rested naturally on his face, a relaxed half-smile he wore whenever he wanted people to know he meant no harm.

At the sound of his boots, the woman standing near the balustrade turned her head. Her dark gown rustled softly, but she didn’t jump or gasp at his sudden presence. She didn’t drop her fan or fumble with her skirts the way most young noblewomen did whenever the Crown Prince caught them off guard all alone.

"Your Highness," she said, her voice dropping into a low, even pitch. She lowered herself into a formal curtsy, deep, fluid, and executed with the absolute precision of someone who had practiced it ten thousand times. "I offer my humblest congratulations on your twentieth birthday. May the Gods grant you health and a long, peaceful reign."

"Lady Delvaris," Alderon replied smoothly, offering her a warm, easy smile as she straightened back up. He rested one hand casually against the cold stone railing, taking a moment to look at her face in the pale moonlight. "Thank you for the kind words. Though... I must admit, this is the very first time I’ve seen you."

"I rarely travel to the Capital, Sire," she answered flatly.

"Is that so?" Alderon raised an eyebrow, taking a half-step closer and tilting his head just enough to catch her eyes. "That feels like a terrible waste. Seeing a lady standing all alone like this... honestly, it makes my chest ache a bit. Why hide yourself away out here?"

Nerissa met his gaze directly, her eyelids unblinking, her expression completely still. "I was merely waiting until Your Highness was no longer swarmed by five layers of eager courtiers, Sire."

Alderon let out a short, quiet laugh, leaning slightly against the balustrade. "Oh? And what did you intend to do once you managed to get me all to yourself?"

"Offer my congratulations properly, as etiquette demands," Nerissa replied, her tone remaining flat and entirely level. "And second, it would have been terribly rude of me to push my way through while you were busy speaking with the high ministers. A good subject knows when to wait her turn."

"How remarkably thoughtful of you," Alderon murmured, his eyes sharpening just a bit as he leaned in half an inch closer. "And what do you think of the celebration so far? Are you enjoying the party?"

"It is as grand and lavish as one would expect from the royal household," she said. She offered him a faint smile, pleasant enough on the surface but entirely devoid of sincerity. "The wine is excellent, the music is lively, and I don’t think anyone could accuse you of being modest with the arrangements."

Alderon stopped. He looked at her closely, really looking at her face for the first time since he walked out onto the terrace.

Most women he met at these events practically vibrated with nervous energy whenever he stood this close. They leaned toward him, they touched his arm under the guise of laughing at a dry joke, or they looked at him with eyes full of bright, hungry ambition.

But Nerissa? There was not a single flicker of excitement in her eyes. In fact, as he watched the way her shoulders were angled away from him, Alderon realized with a strange, amused jolt that she was actively keeping a good two feet of distance between them.

He chuckled under his breath, shifting his weight onto his back foot as a genuine spark of interest hit him.

"Tell me, Lady Delvaris," he said, crossing his arms over his chest, "did you come to the palace all by yourself tonight? What kind of heartless man leaves a woman like you standing unescorted on a balcony?"

"That ’heartless man’ would be my father, Your Highness," Nerissa answered smoothly. She didn’t look flustered by the personal question at all. "He was unfortunately taken ill with a heavy cold yesterday morning and couldn’t make the carriage ride. I am here representing House Delvaris in his place."

"Ah," Alderon softened his expression, opening his mouth to offer something proper and royal. "I am sorry to hear that. I can have the court physician dispatched to your estate in the morning..."

"Your Highness! There you are!"

A sharp, high-pitched voice cut through the cool night air from the balcony archway. A group of three young noblewomen in bright pastel silk skirts swept out onto the stone terrace, their faces lighting up the second they spotted the Prince. Within three seconds, they had crossed the floor, their heavy skirts rustling as they crowded into his space.

"We have been looking all over for you, Your Highness!" one of them giggled. "The orchestra is tuning up for the waltz! You promised you’d open the dance floor!"

Alderon forced his face back into its practiced, polite smile, turning his head slightly toward the women. "Did I? Time flies when the wine is flowing, I suppose."

He turned his shoulder back toward the corner of the balcony, intending to excuse himself for just a moment to finish his sentence with Nerissa.

But she was already moving.

Nerissa was already taking two slow, graceful steps backward. She caught his eye for a split second, dipping into one final, perfectly proper, and entirely cold bow. She didn’t ask for permission to leave, nor did she wait for him to acknowledge her. She simply turned back and walked into the bright, noisy ballroom, disappearing into the sea of dancing bodies and glinting jewelry as if she had never been standing on the terrace at all.

"Your Highness? Is everything all right?" the woman clinging to his arm asked, tugging gently on his sleeve.

Alderon barely heard her. His hand tightened slightly around his wine glass, his eyes locked onto the empty space where Nerissa had been standing moments before.

His pulse was beating a little faster against his ribs, not with anger, but with a sharp, heavy intrigue that felt entirely foreign in his chest.

She didn’t like him. She didn’t want his attention, and she certainly didn’t care about his smile.

As he let the group of chatterbox noblewomen lead him back into the blinding heat of the ballroom, Alderon kept his eyes fixed on the back of the crowd, searching for the dark dress that had slipped away from him without leaving a single trace behind.