Anita’s gaze drifted towards the woman standing beside Cedric. The glint of her silver hair caught her eye at once — she was the Duke of Colbert’s daughter. It was the third time they had been paired together that night.

‘The Duke of Colbert is one of Cedric’s closest allies. It isn’t strange that his daughter would be familiar with him.’

What pained Anita more than the sight itself were the looks exchanged around them. No one save for the Callitheans seemed the least bit surprised. To them, seeing the Crown Prince and Lady Colbert side by side was an ordinary, even expected, sight.

The realization hollowed her chest.

From the highest seat in the hall, the Emperor’s expression darkened. His gaze lingered on his eldest son, dancing leisurely across the floor, and his lips pressed into a weary line. How could he behave so shamefully?

A quiet sigh escaped him. After a brief moment of thought, he turned to his younger son, who was seated nearest him.

“Gerard.”

“You called for me, Your Majesty?”

It was the method that Cedric despised the most: the Emperor turning to one of his other sons to set an example. But tonight, the Emperor no longer cared about appearances. If lending strength to the other side was necessary to correct his heir, then so be it.

Rather than joining the dancers, Gérard stood near the Emperor, stealing discreet glances at Anita. When his father beckoned him over, he immediately straightened up and bowed his head in deference. The Emperor studied his second son for a moment, then spoke as if he had come to a decision.

“You’ve arranged a magnificent celebration tonight. It seems only right that you should be rewarded… Ah, yes, Crown Princess!”

The Emperor paused for a moment as he turned to face Anita. When she stepped forward, he smiled warmly at her and continued.

“How about you present the reward on my behalf? You’re so lovely that a single dance from you would serve as reward enough.”

The words took both Anita and Gérard by surprise. As they were both members of the same royal family, there was of course nothing improper about sharing a dance. In fact, Gérard’s status as a prince made him an ideal partner for the Crown Princess.

And yet, the political atmosphere tonight was treacherous. Gérard had deliberately restrained himself from asking Anita to dance, knowing how it might appear. The Crown Prince’s loyalists were already eyeing anyone near Anita with suspicion, seeing the shadow of the Empress’s faction in every smile or courtesy. He had no wish to make things worse for her.

Anita sensed the tension in the air, too. She had chosen to remain alone rather than entertain the subtle advances of those who had approached her on the Empress’s orders. However, when the Emperor himself spoke, refusal was out of the question.

“I must second His Majesty, Crown Princess,’ the Empress chimed in delightfully. “Gerard’s dancing still needs work. I think he could benefit from learning from you.”

With both sovereigns watching expectantly, nobody dared defy their will. Realizing that it would be better to step forward than to leave her trapped, Gerard smiled faintly and held out his hand.

“As His Majesty commands, dancing with Your Highness would be my greatest honor.”

His posture was impeccable and his tone formal, leaving no room for error. After hesitating briefly, Anita looked down at where Cedric was dancing, then turned back and took Gérard’s hand.

“The honor is mine, Your Highness.”

Fortunately, the previous song ended just as the Crown Princess and the Second Prince stepped onto the ballroom floor. The crowd parted instinctively, opening a path for them as though guided by invisible hands.

Then, a graceful, intricate melody began to play, replacing the brisk tempo of the last piece. Anita’s crimson gown swept outwards in a perfect arc as she turned, while Gerard, dressed in white and sapphire, moved beside her as though a reflection in motion.

Under the dim silver lights that resembled a starry sky, the two of them appeared almost otherworldly — an exquisite man and woman moving in perfect harmony, as if they were part of the dreamlike setting around them.

One by one, all eyes in the hall were drawn to them, captivated.

Though the weight of countless gazes might have made someone else feel uneasy, the longer Anita danced, the more her expression softened. In Callithea, a land steeped in faith where indulgence was frowned upon, dancing was one of the few pleasures women could enjoy without shame. Anita had always loved dancing, and her talent was evident in each poised step and graceful turn.

Gerard, for his part, proved to be a fine partner. Their movements were beautifully harmonized and their rhythm seamless.

“Was I not right, Sister-in-law? I told you tonight would be worth anticipating.”

“It has truly been a wonderful evening, Your Highness, thanks to you.”

Even during the dance, Gerard’s witty remarks and easy charm filled the space around them. The tension that had plagued Anita since her arrival in Laxion seemed to dissolve, and she laughed freely and brightly without restraint. The serene dignity expected of a crown princess was replaced by a radiant liveliness that shimmered through her every movement.

Even when she stood still, Anita was a woman who drew the eye. In Callithea, she was known as the flower of the royal court, and even here, among Laxion’s most fashionable ladies, no one could rival her beauty. Once, her beauty had drawn whispers of pity when she was abandoned by her husband, but now, with her eyes shining and her lips curved in laughter, she captivated the entire hall.

However, beauty invites malice as much as admiration.

“Typical of a Callithean,” a woman muttered under her breath. “Strip away the pious mask and all you see is vulgarity. Just look at her laughing and flirting with her husband’s brother.”

“Indeed,” said another, smirking. “At this rate, she’ll soon find her way into the Second Prince’s bed. The Empress and her circle must be thrilled. How fitting that such shameless hypocrites would flock together.”

Spite spread like rot, feeding on its own poison. Encouraged by the whispers, a man leaned closer to his companion and grinned lewdly.

“Seeing the Crown Princess like this, I can imagine what the rest of those Callithean women are like. Perhaps I’ll visit their quarters tonight, find a bit of entertainment, eh, my lord?”

“Watch your tongue, Baron.”

The cold interruption snapped through the air. Every head turned towards Dian, the speaker. His expression was glacial, his voice edged with warning. The offending noble paled and his smirk disappeared as those around him coughed awkwardly and began to disperse.

Dian’s eyes followed their retreat, filled with open disdain. Then, regaining his composure, he turned his gaze back to the dance floor and his master.

The Crown Prince had just finished dancing. His movements were unhurried and deliberate. However, when Dian saw where his lord was heading, his jaw tightened.

Cedric was walking straight towards the Crown Princess.

And that could mean only one thing.

“When she finishes her second dance, begin.”

The order from earlier echoed in his mind.

“Time it with the fall of the music. That piece will suit the second dance perfectly.”

A chill crawled down Dian’s spine. It’s too soon, he thought. Four songs ahead of schedule.

But the look in his master’s eyes told him that the plan had changed.

Just as confusion began to cloud his thoughts, Dian suddenly recalled the look on his master’s face from moments earlier. When all eyes in the hall turned towards the Crown Princess and the Second Prince, the Crown Prince followed their gaze.

Those eyes were cold as frost. The memory of them sent a chill down Dian’s fingertips. Although the Emperor had suggested the dance, Cedric was clearly displeased to see his younger brother with the Crown Princess.

Yet not long ago, his orders had been the opposite.

“A scandal would suit her just fine. If the Empress becomes desperate and tries to draw Gérard to her, then so be it. It’ll make things easier when the time comes to dispose of her.”

Dian clenched his jaw. He could not fathom his master’s whims, but now was not the time to ponder them. The Crown Prince had taken the Crown Princess’s hand — an unmistakable signal. When the current piece ended, the plan would begin.

At his silent gesture, the agents mingling throughout the crowd began to move. No one noticed the subtle shifts: the servants adjusting their trays; the guests stepping aside; the guards changing their posts. Everything flowed as if it were part of the performance itself.

‘It will begin soon.’

As he prepared to move, Dian turned away. However, he found his gaze was unwillingly drawn back to the joined hands of the Crown Prince and Crown Princess. He could not look away.

··· ✦ ···

The opening notes of ‘Wings of Dawn’ filled the air. Composed more than two centuries ago by the prodigy Raphael Jord, the piece was a masterpiece that was still being performed in royal courts across the continent.

Inspired by the first flutter of a fledgling bird’s wings, the music began softly and tentatively, gradually increasing in tempo and complexity as it soared high before plunging into stillness, only to rise again in breathtaking swells.

It was a dance for the bold. The intricate steps required quick pivots, sudden reversals and flawless coordination. Those uncertain of their footing quietly slipped off the dance floor, choosing the safety of their seats over the risk of embarrassment.

Dancing such a piece with someone who inspired tension rather than comfort made every nerve in Anita’s body stand on end. She moved carefully, synchronising her breathing with the rhythm. In contrast, her partner remained composed and relaxed. Even as the melody accelerated, Cedric moved with fluid elegance, tracing sure steps in the air.

‘Gerard, you’ll have to hand over the Crown Princess to me. I’m far too jealous to keep watching.’

Until now, Cedric had barely looked at Anita all evening. Then, without warning, he changed his mind and crossed the room to take Anita’s hand from his brother’s grasp. He announced loudly that he couldn’t bear his jealousy any longer.

‘So this is politics.’

Anita thought as he drew her close.

‘He must have his reasons.’

But when their eyes met as she turned, she felt her breath catch in her throat. Having avoided his gaze all night, facing it now felt like standing too close to a flame. Startled, she lowered her head again.

“You’ve improved. Last time, you couldn’t stop stepping on my feet.”

A faint chuckle escaped Cedric’s lips as he spoke. Unlike when he had seized her hand from Gerard, there was no mockery in his voice now, only a calm, almost casual tone as he guided her through the dance.

‘Why…?’

Anita’s heart thudded softly in her chest. She knew only too well that Cedric despised her. He despised her deeply. Yet this knowledge did not stop the fragile flicker of hope that rose unbidden within her. This hope grew when she realized what he was referring to: their childhood, when they had moved through life together in harmony, laughing easily with each other.

“I was young then…”

She murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. She was only six at the time, far too young to keep pace with the rhythm of ‘Wings of Dawn’. Nevertheless, even then, Cedric, who was two years older, had danced flawlessly.

‘How foolish I must look…’

A faint flush spread across her pale cheeks, giving them a delicate pink hue that made her blue eyes stand out even more. Cedric noticed the fleeting color and the nervous tremor in her gaze, and the corner of his mouth curled up.

He couldn’t help it. Seeing her like this, still transparent and painfully easy to read, drew a quiet, mocking smile to his lips.