Her Grace

[If only I had asked for his name.] Seren ended the sentence, closed her diary, and gazed at the starry night. Her mind drifted back to the masquerade ball, where shadows and elegant figures danced under warm lights.

The warm hues glimmered from the lights above the nobles as they moved with sophisticated grace, filling the mansion with a suffocating mist of gossip. Seren leaned against the frigid marble wall by the window. She gazed out at the moon in an attempt to drown out the loud music. She held a drink in one hand while the other hand fidgeted with her jade necklace, and her gown cascaded elegantly to the floor.

"Look who decided to show her face," sneered a snob noblewoman, swirling the liquid in her glass.

"The prince must have pitied her," another whispered, eyes glinting with malice.

"ugh, but our prince is too kindhearted for his own good," sighed a third, lips curling.

The gossip only grew louder, drowning out the classical music. Seren stood there, incapable of saying anything. "How could she say anything anyway?" she thought. The rumors, after all, were true. Recently, her family experienced a financial setback. Their land was struck by fires that led to a famine. It left the noble family in dire straits. Now, they desperately sought to recover their losses by arranging a marriage for Seren.

As the whispers sharpened, Seren’s fingers tightened around her glass, the chill seeping through. Her tongue felt heavy, every retort catching in her throat. She contemplated whether to leave or stay, swaying slightly in thought. As she did, A figure in a fox mask appeared from the crowd. His clothes were well-tailored, and he extended his hand with a smile.

"Has Alice lost her way in Wonderland?" he asked, teasing.

Caught off guard, she stood there, staring at his extended hand. The gesture was foreign to her, and confusion flooded her mind. As a noblewoman, she had been taught that physical contact with anyone outside her family was scandalous. Nobles in her country did not interact physically with anyone who was not considered family.

She lifted her head, "It is disrespectful of me to hold hands with someone who isn’t considered family," she said smiling.

"Forgive my ignorance, Your grace," the man replied.

He extended the brushed suede edge of his jacket for her to grasp as he guided her away from the suffocating, toxic cloud that had begun to swirl ominously in the air since her arrival at the mansion. The fabric felt light in her hand, a fleeting warmth was a contradiction from the chilly cloud that was swirled by the snobs in the party causing her to feel as though she belonged next to the chilling wall of isolation.

Trying to steal a peek at the man who had pulled her from the cage of gossip, she noticed that he had dimples and eyes that held a rare quality, almost like tiger-eye gems. Lost in the rarity of his eyes, her thoughts were interrupted as he stopped at their destination: the balcony.

"Kind of snobs, wouldn’t you agree?" he said, his eyes dull and a flat smile on his lips.

"I should have stopped them," she said, her voice trembled.

"But how can anyone silence the truth?" Her eyes bore an empty spark.

The night felt cold against her exposed cheeks. She gazed over the garden from the balcony; everything seemed tiny. Yet, she could only feel the biting wind on her face. She felt so insignificant as if the all-knowing, strong daughter of the marquess could barely hold the beverage glass in her hand.

"The truth lies with the financial problem, not the title," the man said.

"What?" she asked.

"The daughter of the marquess. You have a title that lies high above all these snobs," he said.

"They can't reach you, so they try to drag you to their level," he added.

She froze, letting the information seep into her mind. Looking at the moon, which poured its light over the land, The winter chill bit at her cheeks, but it was the sting in her eyes that she couldn’t hide. She kept her gaze fixed on the moon, unwilling to let him see her tears. Nobles didn't show vulnerability.

"Thank you," she said softly without turning to face him.

He noticed her shiver before she did, so he slipped off his jacket and offered her the jacket, it draped over her shoulders, creating a cozy halo while the chilly cold howled.

She finally turned to ask for his name, but by then, he had already disappeared into the sea of masked nobles.

"Now how could I reach him?" she thought, looking at the moon, her gaze shifting swiftly to the gentleman’s jacket from the previous night. She exhaled, feeling powerless once more.

The door to her room was knocked, interrupting her train of thought.

"Come in," Seren said.

It was the jester accompanied by two maids who brought in some food.

"Your Grace. Ever since you entered the castle, you haven't been eating properly," one of the maids said.

"It's been a fortnight since your arrival," the other maid declared, she was worried for Seren's well-being.

"And that's where my part shines," the jester snickered.

"Since these two snitched on you to the king, I am assigned to be your jester," he said.

"The king believes you would be sad and homesick," he added, shaking his head.

Seren looked visibly perplexed, trying to understand their endearing gesture, until she chuckled as it clicked, placing her hand over her mouth, she realized they had misunderstood her circumstances.

"Well I know I am funny, but why are you laughing?" the jester asked, a perplexed grin lighting up his face.

She explained that she couldn't eat certain foods unless they met her country's quality standards, since she couldn't tell how things were cooked and maintained, she could only eat what she trusted.

The jester laughed, and the two maids apologized for their ignorance. Seren dismissed the issue and asked for their names.

"I'm Owen, your jester. Please take care of me," he said.

"Since I was the King's," he sneered dramatically.

"I am Lotus, your maid, Your Grace. I hope to be of use," the maid said.

"I am your other maid and bodyguard, Bala," the other maid added.

"It is an honor to meet you all," Seren said, smiling brightly.

"I am Seren, and please! No more heavy honorifics, okay?" Seren requested.

"Is our Highness humble, or is it just a shame to carry such a name?" Owen teased.

"I say mind your business, my little fool," she snickered.

"Your Grace, I may be yours, but I am no little," Owen smirked.

She blinked momentarily, confounded. Her lips parted slightly, and heat crept up her neck. She turned away, suddenly focusing on the maids.