82

The ballroom is a hive of guests and servants by the time Dove makes her appearance after nearly running late. Every coven that they call friends is there, greeting her with kindness and respect. Dove tries keeping up with the names and faces but gives up when she remembers she only sees them once a year – and tonight will be the last of it.

Tonight will be the last of everything.

She walks with an odd certainty around her, acting the part of a perfectly proper and poised princess, offering a greeting here, engaging in conversation there, and delivering brief yet neutral options whenever presented with a question.

Wearing the gown Jacques picked, Dove is surprised to be stopped by every lady in the room to compliment her attire, each one mentioning how the colour brings out her eyes magnificently. She couldn’t help but feel as if Jacques was right there in the room with her, attending the ball through the compliments of others.

“There she is, the birthday girl,” Chelsea calls when spotting her sister. With a glass of wine in hand, she waltzes over to pull her into a big hug. “You look stunning, Dovie. You’re outshining every star tonight in that dress.”

“And still, you’re the one with an entourage of drooling lords.” Dove peers over her shoulder at the three young men standing idly by, pretending as if they weren’t dumbly following the older princess around.

“Only because they know you’re taken.” Chelsea gives her shoulders a tight squeeze. “Which reminds me, your prince is waiting for you on the dance floor. Oh, and Dove,” her voice drops a pitch, a sign that she’s about to get serious, “just remember it is *your* heart at stake here. Whatever choices you make tonight, please keep it in mind; forming alliances are easy, but fixing a heart isn’t.”

Dove staggers a bit at how swiftly her sister lets her go, reeling from her words. Before she could ask what that meant, Chelsea had already waltzed off with the young men tailing her.

Left alone, she has no choice but to look for Rubin to fulfil her promise to him. Luckily, dancing it one of the few lessons she didn’t find completely worthless. It could be done with a partner, and more than once had she run to Jacques to help her when Madame Caitlyn became too strict.

Rubin stands near the dance floor just like Chelsea said, conversing with his father and Lorcan. Even from afar, she can hear the word ‘wedding’ being thrown about, sending her stomach twisting in panic.

Taking a deep breath, Dove chases the feeling away and elegantly joins the little group. “Good evening, gentlemen. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Of course not, love,” Lorcan replies, eyes gleaming with pride and joy at the sight of his daughter in that dress. “You look absolutely breathtaking, Dove. I never thought I’d say it, but tonight you even outshine your mother.”

“I’ll say!” King Aldrich huffs a laugh. “Just look at my poor son here, he can hardly speak to save his life.”

Indeed, Rubin is looking at her like he did on the first day they met. In complete and utter astonishment. His father is right, he can’t even speak.

“Then it is a good thing he only needs his legs for what I require him for,” Dove jests, linking her arm with his and guiding him to the dance floor. “I do believe I promised you the first dance, didn’t I?”

The orchestra plays a slow yet joyful tune when they take their place on the dance floor, surrounded by other couples gliding about. While the prince slowly comes to his senses, Dove had taken the lead and places her hand in his. A moment later, and they’re dancing and moving with the fluid rhythm of the music.

Rubin’s voice had finally returned, although still a bit stammering. “Dove, you look…that dress…your eyes…”

Finding his speechlessness amusing, she saves him before he can stutter on. “Thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“You think so?” He smiles bashfully. “Funny, your sister said so too.”

“Really?” Dove steals a glance at Chelsea standing on the sideline, observing them with hopeful eyes. However, there is something else that only she would how to detect, a hint of remorse perhaps? “And which words did she use to convey the message?”

“Well, I believe her exact words were ‘You’re looking handsome as ever, Prince Rubin. My sister is truly lucky to have you’.” The tips of his ears turn a subtle shade of red as he shrugs it off. “But I’m certain she was only being nice.”

“Sure,” Dove mutters, her gaze alternating between him and her sister.

Rubin spins her out and back, dipping her lightly before dancing them towards one of many exits that lead to the gardens. Little did she expect him to interlock their fingers and pull her outside, escaping the crowds and dancing couples.

“Where are we going?” She asks once they’ve passed a fountain, wondering if he knew the answer to that himself.

And she stood correct when he laughs, calling a reply, “I don’t know. How about you lead the way instead?”

“That’s probably wiser and safer.”

Dove proceeds to lead him down a little footpath that passes a vast rose garden, the smell of roses lingering in the air. And then to the right, where the hedge maze awaited. Knowing its twists and turns by now, she leads him right to its centre where a smaller fountain lazily spews water, and a bench planted opposite of it.

“Just when I thought I’ve seen everything this place has to offer, things like this appear and I’m yet again speechless.” Rubin utters a breathless laugh.

“Welcome to my life in which you’ll never be bored,” Dove replies, smiling.

Sitting at the edge of the fountain, she plays her hand through the water, overly aware of the prince claiming a spot next to her. She can feel him staring, anticipating for something to come that she has no idea about.

“Dove,” he begins, reaching for her hand, “these past few days have truly been most memorable to me. Although I think we both agree that I’m not taking you on any more hunting trips once we’re married.”

She nods dramatically. “Trust me, I’ll stay home willingly.” There are no Jacques and Gustavs in the Southern realm to save her limbs and life when freak accidents like those befall her.

Laughing, the prince shifts closer to her to take both her hands in his. The atmosphere has grown stuffy all of a sudden as he gazes into her eyes, searching for something she doesn’t know what he wishes to find. But she finds out soon enough.

“I believe I found what I was looking for when I came here,” he says after a moment. “However, I think it’s ironic.”

Dove swallows thickly. “What’s ironic?”

“It’s ironic how I set out to win your heart, only somehow, you won mine first.”

And then he’s leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Unlike last time, Dove doesn’t turn her head, but instead allows him to kiss her in hopes that it would ignite the spark she so desperately craves. Anything to just feel something for him.

But alas, there is nothing. His kiss is as good as a handshake, unlike Jacques’ which froze time itself and left her hunger for more.

And that’s when Chelsea’s words finally made sense – forming alliances are easy, but fixing a heart isn’t. Especially if that heart happens to belong to the prince, who believes her to be in love with him as he is with her.

“I’m sorry, Rubin,” she whispers, breaking the kiss. “But I can’t give you hope where there is none. For once, I must do what is right for both of us.”

Rising to her feet, Dove leaves him at the fountain and disappears down the maze. She stumbles only once when one of her heels catch on a root, slipping off her foot. Leaving it behind, she proceeds to run, letting her feet carry her exactly where her heart tells them to go.