Chapter 5

Hours seemed to pass.

Elowen had long since lost interest in the royal gathering.

The formal greetings were over, dinner had been served, and now the musicians had begun playing a lively waltz.

The ballroom transformed almost instantly.

Nobles paired off across the polished floor, husbands with wives, young ladies with their intended partners, and unmarried gentlemen eagerly approaching daughters from influential families.

Everywhere Elowen looked, people were dancing.

Everyone except her.

She stood quietly near one corner of the ballroom, holding a glass she had barely touched.

I want to go home.

She glanced toward the doors.

Too many people.

Too many eyes.

And judging by the way several young Lords kept glancing in her direction, she suspected someone would eventually approach her.

She had absolutely no desire to dance.

Elowen sighed and looked toward the royal dais.

King Leopold was speaking with Prince Laurent.

She watched them for a moment without much interest.

Then the King said something to his son.

Laurent's eyes shifted. Straight toward her.

Elowen blinked.

Why is he looking at me?

The King continued speaking.

Laurent listened for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh.

Then he started walking toward her.

Elowen's eyes widened. Is he coming here?

Her gaze moved toward the ballroom floor.

Is he going to ask me to dance?

Absolutely not.

I would rather have a sword duel than dance.

Without another thought, she turned away and walked into the crowd, pretending to look for someone.

She had no intention of being dragged onto that dance floor.

Before Laurent could get anywhere near her, Elowen turned around.

Without another thought, she began walking away.

She moved through the crowd, pretending to search for someone.

Behind her, Laurent continued walking.

Elowen didn't look back.

She simply quickened her pace.

She wasn't going to spend the rest of the night being spun around a ballroom by someone simply because royal etiquette demanded it.

I'm going home.

And with that thought firmly planted in her mind, Elowen disappeared into the crowd before Prince Laurent could reach her.

Eventually, Elowen found herself on the palace balcony.

She stepped outside and immediately let out a long sigh of relief as the cool night air brushed against her face.

"Finally..."

She rested her hands against the railing and closed her eyes.

Hopefully, Prince Laurent hadn't noticed that she had deliberately avoided him.

But then another thought crossed her mind.

She had just walked away from the future Crown Prince.

That was, to put it mildly, disrespectful.

Elowen slowly opened her eyes.

"...I might have just made a terrible mistake."

She glanced back toward the ballroom doors.

"I hope he doesn't take it personally."

Then she sighed again.

"I really didn't want to dance."

The peaceful night air barely had time to calm her before—

Bang!

The balcony doors opened wide.

Elowen's shoulders stiffened.

She turned around.

Prince Laurent stood in the doorway.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

He really followed me.

Elowen quickly straightened, putting on the most innocent expression she could manage.

"Your Highness."

She curtsied politely.

"What brings you out here?"

Laurent stared at her.

Elowen smiled sweetly.

As if she hadn't just escaped the ballroom the moment she saw him walking toward her.

"I was about to ask you for a dance," Laurent said plainly. "But you walked away."

Elowen's smile froze. "Oh..." she's right.

She quickly curtsied again.

"Forgive me, Your Highness. I didn't realize."

Think. I need an excuse.

Her eyes briefly wandered toward the ballroom behind him.

"The crowd..." she began carefully. "It was becoming rather suffocating, so I needed some fresh air."

Laurent stared at her for a moment.

Elowen maintained her innocent expression.

Please believe me.

"I see," he finally said.

Elowen quietly exhaled in relief.

At least, he hadn't immediately accused her of running away from him.

Or so she thought.

"Yes. Exactly."

"You walked very quickly for someone who only needed fresh air."

Elowen's smile twitched.

"I was... enthusiastic about breathing."

Laurent stared at her.

Silence.

Elowen immediately regretted speaking.

"I mean—" She cleared her throat. "The air inside was terribly lacking."

"Lacking?"

"Yes."

Laurent's expression remained completely blank.

Elowen nodded as though she had just delivered the most reasonable explanation in the kingdom.

"I was afraid I might faint."

"You looked perfectly healthy."

"That is because I escaped in time."

Laurent stared at her for another long moment.

Then, unexpectedly, the corner of his mouth twitched.

Elowen narrowed her eyes.

Was he laughing at her?

"I see," he repeated.

She gave him a polite smile.

Laurent turned toward the ballroom. "Still, since you're already outside..."

He extended his hand. "...would you like to dance here?"

Elowen stared at his hand. Then at him.

"Your Highness."

"Yes?"

"This is a balcony."

Laurent looked at her without lowering his hand.

"I know."

Elowen's eyebrow twitched.

"Then why are you asking me to dance here?"

"Because you clearly don't want to return inside."

She fell silent.

Laurent's expression remained calm. "So," he added, "the balcony will have to do."

Her smile tightened.

She didn't want to dance. Not with him. Not tonight.

Yet refusing the future Crown Prince outright would be far more troublesome than enduring one dance.

Her eyes dropped to his outstretched hand.

Just one dance.

But the thought of stepping back into that crowded ballroom made her chest tighten.

Why does he have to be so persistent?

Laurent simply waited.

Elowen clenched her fingers.

And she had no other choice but to take his hand.

The moment her gloved fingers rested in his, Laurent gently lifted her hand and placed a brief kiss upon her knuckles.

Elowen froze.

Thankfully, she was wearing gloves.

"Your Highness..."

Laurent simply smiled.

"Shall we?"

As if by perfect timing, the music drifting from the ballroom changed to a slow, gentle melody.

Laurent stepped closer.

One hand settled carefully at Elowen's waist while the other held her gloved hand.

Elowen stiffened for a moment.

Then the dance began.

Their steps were slow and measured beneath the moonlit sky.

Laurent's gaze lingered on her for a moment, quietly taking in her graceful figure and the way she moved.

Elowen noticed. "Your Highness?"

"Hm?"

"You're staring."

Laurent's lips curved faintly.

"I was simply making sure I didn't step on your foot."

Elowen narrowed her eyes.

That excuse is terrible.

Yet she said nothing and continued dancing.

Laurent stepped slightly closer, guiding her gently through the slow rhythm.

Elowen immediately noticed the reduced distance between them until her chest already touch his.

She stiffened. "Your Highness..."

"Relax," Laurent murmured. "It's only a dance."

Elowen frowned, though she continued following his lead.

Why does this feel far more troublesome than a sword fight?

Elowen cursed silently. This is going to be my last dance.

She forced herself to keep smiling as Laurent guided her through the slow steps.

Never again.

She would rather face fifty knights on the training grounds than endure another dance like this.

Until finally, the music came to an end.

Laurent released her hand and stepped back.

Elowen immediately curtsied.

"Thank you for the dance, Your Highness."

Laurent gave a formal bow.

"The pleasure was mine, Lady Ravelle."

Their expressions returned to perfect courtly composure.

And just like that, the dance was over.

As Prince Laurent guided Elowen toward the balcony doors, the sound of the ballroom suddenly changed.

A murmur swept through the crowd.

Louder this time.

People began turning toward the entrance, their conversations overlapping in excitement.

Elowen frowned. "What is happening?"

Before Laurent could answer, the great doors opened.

A royal messenger hurried into the ballroom, still dressed in travel-stained clothes. He dropped to one knee before the King.

"Your Majesty!"

The entire ballroom fell silent.

King Leopold straightened. "Speak."

The messenger bowed his head. "Good news, Your Majesty. The war has ended."

A collective gasp filled the hall.

"The Ashbourne Order has returned victorious."

Elowen froze. Her heart seemed to stop. The Ashbourne Order?

The messenger continued, his voice carrying through the entire hall.

"Lord Nathaniel Ashbourne has led the final campaign to victory. The enemy forces have surrendered, and the kingdom's borders are secured."

Cheers erupted.

Nobles began whispering excitedly.

"The Ashbourne heir has returned!"

"Lord Nathaniel is a hero!"

"They won!"

Elowen barely heard any of it.

She simply stood there. No.

Her fingers slowly curled around the fabric of her gown. This is too early.

In her previous life, the war had not ended like this.

Not now.

Not at this point.

Nathaniel had returned much later, after months of fighting. And by then, so many things had already happened that had shaped the rest of her life.

But now—

The war was already over.

Nathaniel was coming home.

How?

Could this be because of me?

For the first time since her rebirth, Elowen felt something far more frightening than the memories of her previous life.

Uncertainty.

She had believed she was walking along a road she already knew.

She thought she could avoid certain mistakes because she knew where the road would lead.

But now the road was changing beneath her feet.

I twisted the future.

Her breathing became shallow.

If Nathaniel had returned early...

Then what else had changed?

The King rose from his seat, his expression bright with pride.

"Send word to the Ashbourne estate. Prepare a royal reception. Valoria will welcome its heroes."

The ballroom erupted once more.

Then the messenger added,

"Lord Nathaniel Ashbourne is expected to arrive at the capital soon."

Elowen's stomach dropped. Nathaniel is coming back.

She had spent two years preparing for the future she remembered.

But suddenly, that future no longer seemed reliable.

Beside her, Laurent glanced toward her.

For the first time that evening, he noticed the way her expression had completely changed.

"Lady Ravelle?"

Elowen didn't answer.

And now—

He was coming home.

A hero.

Much earlier than she had ever imagined.

Elowen's mood soured instantly.

The celebration around her suddenly felt unbearable.

"Your Highness, please excuse me."

She gave Prince Laurent a brief curtsy, without the polite smile she had worn earlier.

Before he could respond, she turned and walked back into the ballroom.

Her eyes immediately searched through the crowd.

Father.

She needed to find Duke Alistair.