Ballrooms are supposed to be magical.
Golden walls, enchanted chandeliers, nobles laughing politely while pretending they aren't gossiping about your dress.
"Me? I was only trying to spice up the party. With murder."
Specifically, the very annoying, very smug, very unfortunately attractive man currently spinning me around in front of everyone like I was the star of some romantic fairy tale.
"You're staring," Prince Eros said, his voice a mix of boredom and arrogance. "Do I have something on my face? Or are you plotting my untimely death?"
I smiled the fakest smile in my entire collection of fake smiles. "Would you believe me if I said I was admiring your jawline?"
"Not even for a second," he said, smirking like he'd won some secret game.
Eros Valorian. The golden boy of the Valorian kingdom.
The court worshipped him. The ladies sighed over him.
And me?
I was ninety percent sure he was involved in my sister's disappearance.
The other ten percent? That was just me wishing I could smack that smug smile off his face.
And yet here I was — gliding across the ballroom in emerald silk, when I should have been testing the sharpness of the poisoned needle hidden in my glove. On him.
Not fatal, of course. Just enough to make him collapse so I could demand answers.
Where is my sister?
What happened that day?
I'm starting to think my subconscious has terrible taste in bedtime stories.
But no. Somehow he kept ruining the timing.
"You're not very good at pretending," he said, voice low enough for only me to hear. "Your smile's fake. Your posture's tense. And your eyes… you're watching me like I'm prey."
"Maybe I just don't like dancing," I said.
"Oh, I don't think that's it." He leaned closer, brushing my ear just enough to make me stiffen. "You're hiding something."
My heartbeat skipped.
Did he know?
Before I could react, he spun me hard, making the room blur. In that moment, his hand slid down to my gloved fingers — and squeezed.
My pulse jumped. Not from the touch. From the fact that his grip landed right over the needle I'd hidden in my glove.
"No wonder they call you a brainless fool," he whispered, almost lazily.
Excuse me?!
I yanked my hand free, glaring daggers. "I need air."
And yes, fine, I fled like a dramatic heroine.
Not because I was flustered.
Because my plan failed.
Completely.
The palace gardens at night were supposed to be peaceful.
Moonlight spilled over silver roses. Fountains trickled. Everything was perfectly still.
I hated it.
I leaned against a stone arch and tried to calm down. My sister, Lia, had been missing for almost a year. I had no memory of that night, only flashes of choking, and a shadow that didn't feel human.
Everyone in court pretended it didn't happen.
I turned toward the ballroom windows. He was already dancing with Zoya Verentia, Zoya. The kingdom's reigning queen of smugness.
Also the daughter of the king's most trusted advisor, which meant she could probably get away with murdering someone in the ballroom and people would still say, "oh, she's such a sweet girl." Zoya looked like she was auditioning for the role of "temptress in a tragic romance," and Eros looked like he couldn't care less.
I turned away and heard it.
A strange, uneven sound.
Thud.
Rustle.
A muffled groan.
My body went still.
An older man stumbled out from behind the rose bushes, clutching his chest.
Blood. Too much blood.
"Sir?! What—"
He collapsed at my feet. My hands flew to catch him, but the weight nearly dragged me down. I recognized him vaguely as a noble who sometimes sat near the Queen's council table.
His breathing was shallow.
Shaky.
And then his hand shot up, gripping my wrist with surprising force.
I froze.
His mouth moved. The words came out ragged. "The… mirror… watching… Eros… isn't… who you think…"
"What? What mirrors?!" I asked quickly.
But before I could get more — he went still.
My hands trembled. His eyes were open, but empty now.
Dead.
For a moment, I couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
And then I felt it.
A gaze.
I slowly looked up.
Through the glass doors of the ballroom, Prince Eros was standing at the window. Watching me.
[To be continued…]