Chapter 3 : The Third Princess (3)
The evening air was cool and still as Esme sat beside James Lorton on the palace veranda.
A gentle breeze rustled the fragile leaves of the nearby potted trees, while faint music drifted from the ballroom beyond.
The balcony remained quiet, with only a few guests strolling nearby, making it the perfect setting for a private conversation.
Esme found herself sincerely enjoying James's company.
He spoke with enthusiasm about his studies and his dreams of becoming a court official.
He wasn't simply chasing status—he genuinely aimed to improve the lives of Enorth's people.
His thoughts were perceptive, and Esme admired the way he welcomed her views during their talk.
With him, she didn't feel like an outsider.
That was a rare feeling for the princess.
Her mind wandered back to her early days in the palace.
Back then, she often stayed close to her younger half-brother, Prince Franklin—the rightful heir to the throne.
As Enorth's future king, Franklin had the finest tutors in the realm, appointed by King Norbert, and though those lessons weren't meant for her, Princess Esme always found a way to be nearby.
Her stepmother, the queen, had denied her any formal education.
Esme had been deemed unworthy of the princess title and was told she should be satisfied with the education of a commoner.
But Esme had refused to accept that fate.
While the queen's attention was elsewhere, Esme would slip into Franklin's lessons, listening quietly from the side, pretending disinterest just to remain unnoticed.
Franklin's fondness for her may have been the greatest reason the tutors tolerated her presence.
Eventually, she absorbed all they taught him.
From history to governance, statecraft to military tactics—she learned it all.
She may have lacked the polish and refinement of royalty, but when it came to knowledge and leadership, she stood equal to her brother, the crown prince.
Perhaps even surpassed him.
James's voice gently pulled her back to the present.
"Are you alright, Princess Esme?" he asked, concern flickering in his eyes. "Am I boring you with all this political talk?"
Esme blinked, then smiled warmly. "Not at all. And please, just call me Esme."
He smiled back, his posture relaxing. "Well then, thank you, Esme. That means a great deal."
"I think your goals are truly noble," she said. "You'll make an excellent court official when you succeed your father as duke."
James's eyes lit up. "You really think so? Then please, call me James too," he said, grinning. "You've just given me a real confidence boost."
As he spoke, he gently reached for her hand.
The touch was soft, yet Esme felt a sudden warmth rush to her cheeks.
Before she could respond, a voice cut in.
"Of course he'll be a fine official."
Esme immediately recognized it.
It was Ivy—her second half sister.
Both she and James turned to see two elegantly dressed young women approaching—Ivy and Olivet, the eldest of the three.
They looked stunning in their luxurious gowns, their beauty a reflection of their mother's—flawless skin and features fit for royalty.
"He's bound to be an influential figure in court," Ivy added, her tone sugary but tinged with a sharp edge Esme knew well.
James stood and offered a respectful bow. "Your Highnesses."
A flicker of annoyance crossed Ivy's eyes, though she quickly replaced it with a practiced smile.
"It's wonderful to see you again, James Lorton," said Olivet with a graceful curtsy. Ivy followed suit with her own.
"The last time we met was at your family's gathering," Ivy reminded him.
"Yes," James replied, polite yet distant. "It has been a while."
"Your father appears to need you," Olivet said, stepping forward.
"Ah, I understand," James turned to Esme. "I'll return shortly, Esme. Let's continue our conversation later, alright?"
"Of course," she replied with a smile.
Even as she spoke, she could feel the icy weight of Ivy's stare again—sharp and accusatory.
She looked up and met Ivy's glare, as if she had done something terribly wrong.
"I'll take you to him," Ivy offered quickly, wrapping her arm around James'.
James looked taken aback but didn't resist. "O-Okay, Princess Ivy."
"Oh, come now. How many times must I remind you? Just call me Ivy," she said sweetly, giggling as she clung to him and led him back inside the ballroom.
"I'm sorry, but that's hard to do…" James's awkward voice faded as they disappeared from view.
Only Olivet remained. Her eyes lingered on Ivy and James for a moment before shifting to Esme with cold disapproval.
"You ought to remember your place, Esme," she said icily. "You're nothing but a bastard. Someone like you could never be worthy of a Lorton man like James."
Esme stood frozen, stunned by the venom in her voice.
"Olivet, I never saw him that way," she said softly. "I was only happy to speak with him… as a friend."
"Lies! All of it!" Olivet snapped, her voice rising. "You're just like your mother. A temptress. She seduced our father with her looks, and now you're trying to do the same with James. I won't let you steal him from Ivy."
"But I never—" Esme began, but Olivet had already turned and stormed off without another word.
Music swelled again from the ballroom.
Esme looked toward the dance floor and spotted Ivy and James dancing together, hands entwined, moving elegantly with the rhythm.
James's smile looked faint and forced, but Ivy beamed with delight, basking in the attention.
A dull ache settled in Esme's chest as she watched them.
"Who are you trying to fool, Esme?" she whispered bitterly to herself.
Even after tonight, nothing would really change.
It had all been a fleeting illusion, distracting her from the truth—the harsh reality that awaited once this ball came to an end.
She sighed, trying to shake the heaviness that weighed on her chest.
Just then, a voice spoke from behind—a calm, curious voice she didn't recognize.
"Seems to me you and your half sisters aren't exactly on friendly terms, Princess Esme."
Startled, Esme turned quickly at the sound.
"Who's there?" she asked, scanning the terrace.
But there was no one in sight.
******
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Thank you.
RB