"How do I look?" Camilla sat gracefully on the embroidered sheet, her fingers smoothing the fabric of her gown.
"Beautiful, my Lady," the maidbank girl said, bowing as she carefully combed Camilla's blond hair, letting each strand fall softly into place.
Camilla's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "Do you think Lord Tenebrarum would… appreciate this?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, eyes glinting with anticipation.
Her hands adjusted the gown delicately, letting it reveal just a hint of her décolletage. She stood, eyes tracing her reflection in the mirror, blue as the winter sky.
"This corset… it isn't tight enough," she murmured, her voice commanding. "Make it tighter."
The maid obeyed swiftly, lacing the corset until Camilla's figure was accentuated exactly as she desired, her posture perfect, her presence undeniable.
Camilla had heard whispers through the halls—Lord Tenebrarum had prepared a private ball. She imagined it was for her, a lavish night to see him notice her, to feel the thrill of his gaze lingering on her alone.
She dressed with meticulous care, every fold of her gown arranged just so, her hair braided and pinned to perfection, the soft sheen of pearls catching the light. She tried to look her absolute best, practicing a confident smile in the mirror, imagining the awe she would inspire.
But what she didn't know—what no one had told her—was that the ball was not for her. Every candle, every note of music, every whispering servant had been arranged for Aurelia.
The thought had never crossed her mind as she adjusted the final touches of her dress, unaware that the night she anticipated as her triumph was already destined for someone else.
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"Where are you taking me?" Aurelia's hand remained on Tenebrarum's firm grip, her voice trembling between curiosity and irritation.
He said nothing, his steps steady as he led her into a vast hall. The doors opened, and Aurelia's eyes widened at the sight before her.
A musical ensemble waited in the corner, poised and ready, their instruments gleaming under the soft candlelight. The room itself was decorated with black roses, their dark petals gleaming with a strange, hypnotic elegance. Aurelia's gaze swept over the space, taking in every detail—the black drapes, the polished floor, the flickering lights casting shadows across the walls.
Her heart thumped—not with delight, but with confusion and a rising anger.
Why black? Why so much… darkness? she wondered.
And then it hit her. This ball—it wasn't just a display of power or wealth. It was for her.
Her lips trembled as a bitter thought formed. He did this because of Kaelen. Is he jealous?
"This—this is because of him?" she asked, her voice laced with frustration, her mouth pressed tight. "Because I danced with your brother?"
Tenebrarum's face, masked and unreadable, remained impassive.
Aurelia's chest tightened.
So this is his way of caring …
She swallowed, trying to control the storm of emotions rising within her—anger, frustration, and a reluctant recognition of how much he cared.
"Now… let's dance," he ordered, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the hum of the musicians.
The musicians, frozen in place for a heartbeat, immediately obeyed, their fingers flying over strings and keys as if their lives depended on it—which, in this room, perhaps they did. The melody surged, rich and commanding, echoing against the high ceilings.
Aurelia's heart skipped a beat. Her hand was still in his, warm and unyielding, pulling her gently yet firmly toward the center of the hall. Her pulse raced—not only from the music, but from the heat radiating off him, the subtle dominance in his every movement.
Her gaze flicked toward the black roses that surrounded them, their petals dark and almost threatening, yet beautiful in their intensity. The scent of him—sharp, intoxicating, impossible to name—seeped into her senses, drawing her closer despite her anger and frustration.
She wanted to pull back, to resist. And yet, as his hand guided her through the first steps, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.
Each movement was precise, controlled, and somehow dangerously intimate.
Aurelia's breath hitched. Why does he have to make everything so… consuming?
She realized, with a mixture of frustration and unwilling fascination, that no one—not Kaelen, not anyone else—could ever make her feel like this. Only he could.
Each movement of his hand on her waist sent a shiver through her.
Sweat prickled along her skin, and her chest tightened with every step they took. Her eyes were locked on his mask—the cold, smooth surface hiding the storm beneath, the only barrier between them and the chaos of desire that threatened to spill over.
He guided her with a precision that left no room for error, yet it wasn't mechanical.
Every press, every tilt of his hand was deliberate, commanding, and somehow teasing. Aurelia's fingers trembled where they rested lightly on his shoulder, her body betraying her will to stay composed.
The music swelled, and she felt herself pulled into the rhythm, into his rhythm, as if the black roses themselves leaned closer to witness them.
Her mind tried to resist—he is dangerous, he killed my brother, he claimed me—but…—but the pull of him was undeniable.
Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. The mask, the black roses, the controlled elegance of the hall—all of it couldn't hide the intensity radiating off him. And as his other hand brushed just beneath her shoulder, tracing the curve of her back, Aurelia's breath caught.
Aurelia wasn't meant to touch his mask; her own rules, her mind, screamed at her. Yet, her fingers moved of their own will, tracing the smooth surface, lingering over the edge where his lips were hidden.
A tension crackled between them, invisible yet undeniable. Her breath hitched. The world shrank to the space between their faces, her pulse drumming in her ears louder than the music.
Their lips hovered closer, drawn by a force neither could—or wanted to—resist. The room seemed to hold its breath, black roses and shadows alike witnesses to the pull that threatened to consume them both.
And then—a sharp, clear interruption.
"I'm here!"
Camilla's voice rang out as she swung open the hall doors, her blonde hair catching the light like a halo, her smile bright and careless—until it froze. Her eyes widened, taking in the intimate closeness of Aurelia and Tenebrarum.
The realization hit her like ice.
This wasn't her moment. This wasn't her place.
Her fingers faltered on the doorframe, her chest tightening with a mixture of shock, jealousy, and heartbreak. In that instant, Aurelia pulled back slightly, her heart still racing, aware now of Camilla's presence—and the truth that had just shattered the fragile air around her.
This ball wasn't hers, it was Aurelia's.
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To be continued...