Chapter 27

As the final notes faded, the couples slowed their steps and turned toward one another. Across the ballroom, ladies gathered their skirts while their partners bowed, exchanging the customary courtesies that signified the end of the dance.

Elowen curtsied before the Crown Prince.

"Thank you for the dance, Your Highness."

Laurent bowed in return, though the amusement in his eyes had not diminished.

"You make it sound as though you have just fulfilled an unpleasant obligation."

"Would Your Highness prefer that I pretend otherwise?"

"Not at all. I find your honesty refreshing."

He offered his arm, and Elowen accepted it as he guided her away from the crowded dance floor, toward a quieter corner near the tall windows. From there, they could still see the ballroom, but the orchestra and the surrounding conversations no longer drowned out their voices.

"Now that I have successfully kept you from escaping," Laurent began, "I hope you will indulge me in a proper conversation."

"Was our dance not a proper conversation?"

"You spent half of it looking as though you were calculating the shortest route to the nearest exit."

Elowen gave him a look of quiet reproach, which only made him smile.

"I heard that your knights have grown considerably in number," he said. "My father mentioned the matter recently. You must have been quite occupied."

"There is still much to be done. Numbers alone do not make a force capable, Your Highness."

Laurent regarded her with interest.

"You speak as though you have already been commanding them for years."

"I have learned that giving orders is the easiest part of leadership. Ensuring that those orders are carried out properly is considerably more difficult."

"Then I shall have to be careful if I ever find myself on the receiving end of one."

"You need not worry, Your Highness. I would never presume to give the Crown Prince an order."

"How disappointing. I was rather looking forward to discovering what sort of commander you might be."

Elowen smiled politely, but before she could respond, a familiar voice sounded behind her.

"Your Highness."

Laurent's attention shifted over her shoulder.

Elowen recognized the voice immediately.

Duke Nathaniel Ashbourne.

She turned, her expression settling into the composure she had maintained throughout the evening. Nathaniel stood just behind her, impeccably dressed, his dark eyes moving briefly from Elowen to the Crown Prince.

"Duke Ashbourne," Laurent greeted him. "I hope you are enjoying the celebration."

"Very much, Your Highness."

Nathaniel bowed before turning his attention to Elowen.

"Lady Ravelle."

"Your Grace."

Laurent glanced between them, seemingly unaware—or perhaps simply unconcerned—of the tension that had settled into their otherwise ordinary exchange.

"Have you come to claim the next dance, Duke Ashbourne?" he asked lightly.

Nathaniel's expression remained composed.

"I am afraid I arrived too late for that, Your Highness."

"Then you shall have to be quicker next time."

"I shall keep that in mind."

Elowen remained silent, her hands folded neatly before her.

She could feel the weight of Nathaniel's presence beside her, but she refused to search his expression for an explanation. Whatever had brought him here, she would not assume it had anything to do with her.

Laurent, meanwhile, glanced toward the ballroom as the musicians began preparing for the next set.

"I should return to my guests shortly," he said. Then, turning to Elowen, he added, "But I trust you will not disappear before I have the chance to speak with you again, Lady Ravelle."

"I shall endeavor not to, Your Highness."

"That is hardly a promise."

"It is the best I can offer."

Laurent laughed softly before inclining his head to both of them.

"Until later, then."

"Until later, Your Highness," Elowen replied.

Nathaniel bowed as well.

Once the Crown Prince had departed, the small corner seemed to grow quieter, despite the music continuing in the ballroom.

Elowen kept her gaze on the passing guests for another moment before turning toward Nathaniel.

"Was there something you needed, Your Grace?"

Her tone was courteous, without the slightest hint of familiarity.

Nathaniel looked at her, his expression difficult to read.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then his gaze shifted toward the dance floor where Laurent had just disappeared into the crowd.

"Nothing in particular, Lady Ravelle."

Elowen waited, wondering why he had approached her at all.

But Nathaniel offered no further explanation.

And somehow, that silence was more frustrating than any question he might have asked.

Elowen was about to respond when the sound of the orchestra abruptly faded.

It was not the musicians who had stopped playing on their own. A hush had begun spreading from the entrance, passing through the ballroom as one conversation after another fell silent. Even the nobles nearest the dance floor turned toward the great doors.

An imperial herald stepped forward, his staff striking the marble floor with a sharp, resonant sound.

"His Imperial Majesty, the Eastern delegates, has arrived!"

A fresh wave of whispers swept through the hall.

Elowen turned toward the entrance.

Their arrival was not something one could simply overlook.

Yet what followed was not quite what Elowen had expected.

A group of young men entered the ballroom, walking with the easy confidence of people accustomed to being watched. They were tall and broad-shouldered, their skin ranging from warm bronze to deep brown, and their dark hair was styled in ways unfamiliar to most of the gathered nobles.

Their attire was unlike anything worn by the Valorian aristocracy.

Rich fabrics in deep crimson, gold, and midnight blue were arranged in layered garments, embroidered with intricate patterns that resembled winding vines and unfamiliar celestial symbols. Heavy ornaments adorned their wrists and necks, while finely crafted belts rested at their waists. Some wore long, open-fronted coats over fitted garments that left part of their chests exposed, revealing smooth skin and elaborate ornaments resting against their collarbones.

It was neither careless nor indecent. Their clothing was deliberately fashioned according to a different standard of elegance, one that seemed to value boldness and the display of finely crafted adornments.

They moved without the slightest hesitation.

Several Valorian nobles exchanged uncertain glances. Others watched with undisguised curiosity, attempting to conceal their surprise behind their fans and wineglasses.

The newcomers, however, appeared entirely untroubled by the attention. They spoke quietly among themselves, their expressions relaxed, as though entering a ballroom filled with unfamiliar faces was an ordinary occurrence.

Elowen's gaze moved across the foreign delegation, taking in their familiar garments, their confident bearing, and the ease with which they carried themselves beneath the attention of an entire ballroom.

Then, one by one, she recognized their faces.

Finally.

They had come.

Not years later, as she remembered from her previous life, but now—at the very celebration where Valoria's nobles had gathered to honor their Crown Prince.

But her attention settled on the man at their center.

Their leader was young. Far younger than one might expect of someone who commanded such a distinguished company, yet there was nothing uncertain about the way he carried himself. His companions stood near him, but none seemed to overshadow him. If anything, their arrangement made his presence all the more apparent.

He was, quite simply, unhumanly attractive.

He did not need to raise his voice or demand attention. He possessed the sort of presence that drew it naturally.

Several ladies nearby had already begun whispering behind their fans. Even some of the young noblemen appeared to be measuring the foreign leader with undisguised curiosity.

Elowen paid little attention to them.

She remembered that face too well.

In her previous life, she had learned that his beauty was the least remarkable thing about him—and certainly not the quality one ought to underestimate.

Across the ballroom, the foreign leader turned his head slightly, his gaze passing over the assembled nobles.

For one brief moment, Elowen wondered whether he would recognize her.

She stood perfectly still, her expression as serene as ever.

After all, to him, she was merely another young noblewoman among Valoria's aristocracy.

At least, that was what she hoped he would believe.

Beside her, Nathaniel had remained silent since the delegation's arrival.

Welcome to Valoria, she thought, watching their leader approach the Emperor and Crown Prince.

The conversations throughout the ballroom gradually subsided as the foreign delegation came to a halt before the imperial throne.

The Valorian Emperor stood to receive his distinguished guests, the Empress at his side and Crown Prince Laurent positioned a step behind them. The atmosphere was one of formal courtesy, though the curiosity among the assembled nobles was impossible to conceal.

The foreign leader stepped forward.

Yet his expression remained composed, his dark eyes carrying the quiet confidence of someone who had never needed to seek recognition.

He placed one hand over his chest and bowed his head in greeting.

"Your Imperial Majesty," he began, his voice deep and clear enough to carry across the hall. "It is an honor to finally stand before the sovereign of Valoria. I am Varkhan, the leader of this delegation and the first prince of Orynth."

A ripple of whispers traveled through the ballroom.

"Orynth?"

"The Orynth people?"

"I thought their territory was beyond the eastern mountain ranges."

"Have they truly come all this way?"

Some of the older nobles exchanged knowing glances. The name was not entirely unfamiliar to them. Orynth was a distant realm whose people had long maintained trade routes through territories most Valorians had never visited.

However, knowledge of the Orynth people remained limited among the younger generation. For many of them, this was the first time they had seen representatives of that race in person.

And now, their prince stood before the imperial throne.

Elowen lowered her gaze to conceal the recognition in her eyes.

Varkhan.

The name had not changed.

Neither had the face.

Still, seeing him here, years before she had expected, sent an uncomfortable thought through her mind.

Everything is happening earlier.

"First Prince Varkhan," the Emperor greeted warmly. "Your arrival is a most welcome surprise. We were not informed that the Orynth delegation would be joining us for this celebration."

Varkhan inclined his head.

"Please forgive our unexpected arrival, Your Majesty. The journey was long, and we believed it more appropriate to present our greetings in person rather than allow a letter to speak in our stead."

His gaze shifted briefly toward Crown Prince Laurent.

"Furthermore, we wished to extend our congratulations to His Royal Highness on this important occasion."

Laurent returned the greeting with a courteous smile. "Your presence honors us, Your Highness. I hope Valoria will offer you a pleasant stay."

"I have no doubt it will."

At a subtle gesture from Varkhan, several attendants stepped forward.

Behind them, servants and guards began carrying in an astonishing number of lacquered wooden chests. Some were long and narrow, reinforced with gold fittings, while others were broad enough to require two men to lift. They were arranged in orderly rows before the imperial court.

The sight alone silenced the remaining whispers.

Varkhan turned toward the Emperor.

"On behalf of the Orynth people, I present these gifts as a token of our respect and the beginning of a lasting alliance between our realms."

At his signal, the attendants opened the first series of chests.

Gold.

Rows upon rows of gold ingots gleamed beneath the ballroom's chandeliers, their surfaces reflecting the warm light. Several nobles leaned forward before catching themselves, their expressions betraying their astonishment.

The next chests contained carefully wrapped medicinal herbs, sealed glass vessels, dried roots, and small containers of powders whose uses were known only to experienced healers. Other boxes held finished medicines, each protected in its own delicate packaging and marked with unfamiliar Orynth script.

The offerings were extraordinary in both quantity and value.

"These are but a portion of what our people can provide," Varkhan explained. "The gold is offered as a symbol of our goodwill, while the medicines are intended for your imperial infirmaries and physicians. We hope they may be of service to the people of Valoria."

The Emperor's expression brightened with genuine pleasure.

"Such generosity is not easily forgotten, Prince Varkhan. Valoria welcomes the friendship of Orynth, and I trust that our peoples will find many opportunities to prosper together."

"We share that hope, Your Majesty."

The Emperor gestured toward the gathered court.

"Then allow me to introduce you properly to the people who stand closest to our throne."

He began with the Empress, followed by Crown Prince Laurent and the other members of the imperial household. Varkhan greeted each of them with measured courtesy, neither overly familiar nor excessively formal.

Then the Emperor introduced the great houses of Valoria.

The marquesses, counts, and viscounts stepped forward in turn, offering their names and titles. Varkhan acknowledged them all with the same composed attention, though his eyes occasionally lingered on those whose family names appeared to hold particular significance.

Finally, the Emperor's gaze moved toward the ducal households.

"Allow me to introduce the most prominent ducal families in my empire."

Duke Alistair Ravelle stepped forward first, with Duchess Evelina beside him and Elowen standing at their side.

"The Duke and Duchess of Ravelle," the Emperor announced. "Their house has served the crown faithfully for generations."

Varkhan inclined his head.

"Duke Ravelle. Duchess Ravelle. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Duke Alistair returned the greeting with dignified warmth. "The pleasure is ours, Your Highness. We hope your stay in Valoria will be a fruitful one."

Varkhan gaze then moved to Elowen.

For a brief moment, the noise of the ballroom seemed to recede around her.

She met his eyes with the calm, practiced expression expected of a young lady presented before a foreign prince. Her posture remained impeccable, her hands resting lightly together before her.

"And this is Lady Elowen Ravelle," the Emperor continued. "The Duke and Duchess's only daughter."

Varkhan regarded her for a heartbeat longer than courtesy strictly required.

Then he bowed.

"Lady Ravelle."

"Your Highness," Elowen replied, lowering into a graceful curtsy.

Nothing in her voice betrayed the fact that she knew precisely who he was.

Nor did she allow herself to wonder whether he remembered her.

The introductions continued with the remaining ducal households, including Duke Nathaniel Ashbourne. Nathaniel greeted the foreign prince with the reserved dignity expected of his station, and Varkhan returned the courtesy without apparent distinction.

Yet Elowen watched closely.

The Emperor was pleased. The nobles were fascinated. The Crown Prince appeared eager to learn more about their distant guests.

To everyone else, this was the beginning of a promising alliance.

To Elowen, it was the beginning of the nightmare that had once consumed her—and threatened Valoria itself.

Yet this time, she welcomed it with an open heart.

For she would rather face the darkness willingly than let it destroy them again.