Chapter 32 Another Ball
Dane’s POV
The garden didn’t return to normal after she left.
That was the problem.
I remained where Meira had stood, the echo of her presence clinging to the air like a disturbance no one else could hear. The rake leaned against the stone wall, abandoned. A pale petal loosened itself from the rose trellis and drifted down, settling near my boot. For reasons I refused to examine, I didn’t move it aside.
I should have walked away.
I had obligations waiting for me—an entire hall full of desperate nobles and painted maidens, all gathered for what my father insisted on calling a celebration. A nonsense ball, more like it. The mere thought of their voices, their laughter too loud and too practiced, already set my teeth on edge.
Instead, my thoughts followed a maid with lowered eyes and hands that trembled only when she believed herself unseen.
They made you invincible.
The words tasted strange even now. I hadn’t planned to say them. They had slipped out, raw and unguarded—truth, unfiltered and unwelcome.
She wasn’t the same fierce girl I’d met in the forest.
That version of her had stood her ground. Had looked at me without fear or apology, eyes bright with defiance despite the danger surrounding her. I missed that girl.
I turned sharply and left the garden.
The palace corridors bent to my presence as they always did. Guards snapped to attention. Servants flattened themselves against cold stone, heads bowed low, movements careful and silent. Respect, they called it.
I knew better.
It was order. Distance. Fear—carefully disguised and drilled into bone.
From the outside, my life looked flawless. A crown waiting. A kingdom kneeling. Power woven into my name.
In truth, it was already in shambles.
Meira hadn’t feared me the way they did.
She feared existing.
And that—somehow—unsettled me more than rebellion ever could.
By the time I reached the ceremony hall, my mood had worsen beyond repair.
Music filled the space, It was too bright and eager. Light from a hundred chandeliers reflected off polished marble and jeweled gowns. Laughter rippled through the crowd, rehearsed and hollow.
“You’re late,” my father said.
His voice was weaker than it used to be, though the irritation sharpened the words. I flicked my gaze toward him briefly before turning away, already moving past.
“Dane,” he called, louder this time.
He followed, clearing his throat, forcing me to halt. When I turned back, I found him closer than I expected—older, thinner, wearing a crown that suddenly looked heavier than gold.
“Please,” he said quietly. “You promised me. Remember?”
I laughed once, sharp and humorless. “No, I didn’t. I said you forced it down my throat.”
His jaw tightened. “You agreed.”
“I stopped resisting,” I corrected. “There’s a difference.”
For a moment, the Alpha King mask slipped. His voice softened, losing its command. “Just tonight,” he said. “That’s all I’m asking.”
I looked into his eyes—and hated that I saw exhaustion there. Vulnerability.
I hated even more that it stirred something close to sympathy.
“I’ll try,” I said finally.
It was the last thing I offered before walking away.
“Dane!”
Darius intercepted me before I could disappear completely. He was impeccably dressed, as always—dark jacket tailored perfectly, confidence worn as easily as silk.
Anyone watching might mistake him for the prince tonight.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” he said. “Where have you been?”
“Around.”
He laughed. “You look good. Honestly, someone could mistake you for the groom.”
“Don’t start.”
He grinned wider. “You should dance. Ask any maiden. They’re practically lining up.”
“I don’t feel like searching.”
“I could search for you,” he offered, eyes glinting with mischief. “Save you the trouble.”
I shot him a warning look. He ignored it.
Minutes later, he returned with a red-haired girl clinging to his arm, smiling so hard it nearly unsettled me. Her excitement radiated off her in waves.
We danced.
I didn’t say a word.
She filled the silence easily—talking about the palace, the music, the honor of being chosen. I nodded when necessary, focused on the steps, on not being rude.
But my mind betrayed me.
Meira.
Every pause became her silence.
Every bowed head became her flinch.
When the music finally ended, relief washed over me far stronger than it should have.
Darius lingered once the girl left, studying me with narrowed eyes.
“You seem distracted tonight, Your Highness.”
“I’m not,” I said.
It was a lie.
He didn’t press further. He swallowed and stepped back.
Good.
Without realizing it, my feet carried me toward the servant wing.
The realization struck hard—and annoyed me.
I stopped, exhaled, and changed direction abruptly, flagging down a passing steward instead.
“What is Meira’s assignment?” I asked.
The man blinked. “M—Meira, my prince?”
“Yes.”
“She rotates, sire. Cleaning mostly. Sometimes kitchens. Rarely assigned to the upper floors.”
Rarely seen.
Easily forgotten.
“Who oversees her?”
The steward hesitated. “Aunt Elizabeth, sire.”
The name tightened something cold and sharp in my chest.
“Thank you,” I said.
He bowed deeply and fled.
I stood there for a moment longer than necessary, the noise of the celebration distant behind me.
The conversation wasn’t over.
Not even close.