The carriage wheels came to a stop. Lorielle stepped down gracefully beside her mother and sister. She held the hem of her dress and subtly pushed out her belly. The fabric was heavy and tight around her upper body down to her waist, making it difficult to breathe properly even though the gown accentuated her curves. Her sister, on the other hand, moved effortlessly compared to her, who was stuffed into tight clothes, making her movements feel stiff.
The tall metal doors stood before her, guarded by castle guards on duty. Next to them were the stewards who welcomed guests and checked invitation cards.
As they crossed the bridge, a steward approached them. "Greetings, my lady," he bowed before her mother, then to her and her sister. "May I have your name and invitation card please?"
"Have it..." her mother replied in a calm tone.
"I'm sorry to have bothered you, Lady Elmsworth," he said after confirming the card.
"I knew you were only doing your job," her mother responded while dismissing him with a hand gesture.
"Make sure you don't embarrass our family tonight. Remember, our fate lies in your hands and your sister," her mother said as she turned to face her.
"I understand, Mother," Lorielle replied, feeling pressured.
"What's with your face? Put on a bright smile," her mother said, gritting her teeth as she helped adjust her dress, which seemed to be the source of her stress.
"Lady Elmsworth," someone called from behind.
"Good day, Lady Moore," her mother greeted the woman, whose gaze was fixed on her and her sister.
"You look so fabulous tonight, and by the way, I love your dress. Where did you have it made?" She admired the silk, tracing her finger slowly around the fabric.
"My lady… your card," the steward interrupted the conversation.
"Can't you see I'm in the middle of a conversation?" she snapped.
"My apologies."
"What are you doing just standing there?" she frowned. "Provide him the card," she shouted at the girl behind her, who appeared to be her maid.
With trembling fingers, the girl produced the card. She handed it to the steward, who confirmed the identity before dismissing himself beneath the cold stares of the lady.
"Back to our previous conversation. I love your dress; I'd love to know where you got it from?"
"I'm flattered, my lady, thank you for your kind words. You look fabulous as well. The dress was bought from Oakhaven and sewn by the best tailor there."
"Really?"
"And these must be your daughters," the lady said as she shifted her gaze to focus on her and her sister.
"Greetings, your ladyship," Lorielle greeted.
"I must say, your daughters are truly lovely, especially your youngest. She would make a perfect daughter-in-law in my household. What do you say to that?"
"I thought we were here for a party, your ladyship," her mother's mood shifted immediately. "Such discussions are not suitable for a place like this."
"I do understand, but I wouldn't want anyone else seeking your daughter's hand in marriage before my son does. As you know, Collins is not in town but will be returning soon from Stonebridge. And I know how highly he speaks of your younger daughter."
"Lady Moore, I would prefer we have this conversation another day."
"If you will leave us be, a party awaits us," her mother said as she excused herself, followed by her daughters.
Together, they stepped inside.
Lorielle swore she had never seen a hall as spacious as this in her life. The hall was vibrant and colourful. Different people dressed in their finest attire stood elegantly, poised and composed.
The sound of laughter and clinking glasses grew louder as she moved forward.
"Welcome, noble guests," the herald announced via microphone. "We are honoured to have you all. His Highness sends his warm greetings to every family who, out of their kind hearts, left their business to attend this celebration. Have fun, everyone." The herald left the stage.
"Remember what I have always told you, make no silly mistakes," her mother warned again before leaving her side.
"I'll go and look for your father and brothers; they should be here by now."
"Be good, you two," her mother pointed.
"Okay, Mother," Lorielle replied.
She watched her mother gradually disappear from view.
Whispers circulated around the hall like a gentle breeze. Murmurs spread as groups of people discussed.
Noble people delight in gossiping, she thought.
"Did you hear?" someone whispered. "The Grand Queen Dowager organised this party to choose a future queen for the king," claimed one of the ladies.
"You think so?" another replied. "I thought this was just the usual gala we attend."
"My mother told me this Gala isn't just an ordinary party; it has hidden motives," she continued to have the girls' utmost interest.
"Then we'd better behave ourselves. Who knows, he might take a fancy to one of us. Maybe me," giggled the fourth girl, touching her cheeks with both palms.
"Can't wait for the party to start— I mean, the real party," said a third voice. "I hope I get to dance with him."
"I doubt the king and his brothers will be here tonight," the second girl said, not wanting to imprison herself in false hope.
"Of course, they will be here. It's just not the right time yet," the fourth girl replied.
"Well, let's wait and see," the girls said while they continued with other gossip.
"Gosh... it's so crowded I can hardly breathe," her sister complained, sipping her drink with distaste.
Several men in the hall glanced their way, some with lingering stares, awkward smiles, but none dared to step forward—except one man standing not far from the corner. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, held ultimate curiosity as he calculated his approach.
Slowly, he stepped forward.
"Good day, gentle ladies," he greeted, his voice smooth, matching his handsome face. He bowed slightly, his obsidian eyes lingering on Lorielle. "I am Lord Vincent of Redbrook. It's an honour to meet you."
"Same here, my Lord," Lorielle blushed politely.
"May I have your name?" he asked.
"I am Lady Liora Elmsworth, daughter of Lord and Lady Elmsworth of Westvale. With me are my elder sister and the first daughter of our family," she introduced herself.
"My pleasure to meet you," he bowed to Lorielle.
"If you don't mind... may I have this dance?" he asked, kissing the back of her hand, which made her blush deeper. "I must say, you have the finest fingers," he added. "Shall we?" he asked again, guiding her to the dance floor.
Now alone, loneliness began to creep in as the dance floor had already been filled with couples enjoying the evening.
The clock ticked quickly, matching her racing heartbeat. Minutes, seconds, hours—all passing in a blur.
Suddenly, the door swung open, drawing every eye. She slowly looked up, following the gazes of the crowd.
There he was— the one she'd been waiting to see.
Standing in the doorway was the king, his posture upright, his face unreadable, his gaze fixed unwaveringly.
His eyes swept over the crowd—then they settled.