Hi! just an FYI concerning the Ball, which will be split into 2 chapters: I decided not to do the whole thing through Nev's POV because we need to also see Jesse, as well as the brothers...
Chapter 15 – The Ball, Part 1
~ Nevaeh ~
After Hanna was done doing Nevaeh's hair into a fancy bun at the nape of her neck, the Duchess was ready to go downstairs to start welcoming the guests who would be arriving shortly. On her way to the door, she stopped at the minibar on the dresser, near the door, and poured herself a glass of rosé. She was always in greater moods with a glass down, and she'd need the strength to go through the evening. She knew her organizational skills were excellent, but anything could happen with the Selected. And that was the problem.
"See you later, Hanna," Nevaeh said in French. "And don't forget to take the evening off."
"Of course, Miss," Hanna replied. "I wouldn't miss the opportunity." She smirked and Nevaeh knew her friend probably had a sweet rendezvous with one of the male staff members of the Royal Household. She didn't blame her, to be honest.
She checked the big clock in the hall and decided she could spare a couple of minutes to go see her cousins before going down. The Palace gates wouldn't be opened for another ten minutes, anyway, and the guards would have to check everyone's VIP invitation and ID. Her heels clicked down the hall, announcing her arrival. She stopped in front of Silas' door and took a deep breath before knocking three times.
She wasn't surprised when it was Timothy Parker who opened the door. He peered at her through the crack in the door and quickly ushered her inside.
"What's going on?" Nevaeh asked. "What's with all the secrecy?" She frowned, afraid that something really bad had happened to Silas. "Where is he?"
"In the washroom," Timothy said. "He's been in there for the past fifteen minutes."
Nevaeh couldn't resist rolling her eyes. She knocked on the bathroom door. "Silas? Is everything okay?"
"I'm fine," he said. "Can't anyone use the bathroom in peace, these days?" he flushed the toilet and Nevaeh heard the water start as he washed his hands. Then she stepped back when Silas opened the door.
Nevaeh looked him up and down: he was wearing a 3-piece black suit with a black tie – of course, because the event was 'black tie' – with black fancy Italian leather shoes. The only color on him was the red rose boutonniere on his chest. "The red rose is a nice touch," she said.
"Nathan and Val insisted," he replied. "I think they're wearing their roses, as well."
"Huh, that's actually a good idea," she admitted. But coming from Nathan, anything related to fashion was always a good idea.
Silas ran a hand through his dark brown hair and Nevaeh noticed he hadn't shaved. But then again, the 3-day stubble was his signature look and he wouldn't take that off: it was part of his armor, and that night – of all nights – he was taking no risk at all. Silas looked at his friend and bodyguard. "Are you ready?"
"Ready when you are," he replied with a smile. Timothy was wearing a simple black suit as well, and for once, his unruly dark blond hair was combed back.
"You do know you still have an hour, right?" she asked, heading back to the door. She had two more stops to do before greeting the guests.
"Yes," the crown Prince replied. "We're going to the balcony above the Ballroom."
"People spying," Timothy explained with a sly smile.
Silas shot him a look. "We're going over the names of the people before meeting them," he corrected. Because no one would catch him 'people spying' ever.
"Whatever," Nevaeh said. "I'll see you later." She walked out of the room and headed down the hall to see if Nathan and Valerian were getting ready as well. Nathan was trying to get his orange bow tie fastened, but it was always a tricky part. Nevaeh tied it for him and complimented his black and grey suit – or was it a tuxedo? – before leaving him alone to smoke a cigarette or two on his balcony, away from the guests' eyes.
"Val?" she called out, stepping into the youngest prince's room since the door was ajar.
"Yeah?" he called back from behind a chair. "I'm here!"
Nevaeh walked around the furniture and saw him tying his shoes–
"Wait. Are you wearing pink converse sneakers with your suit?" she asked.
He grinned up at her as he finished tucking the laces inside the sides of the shoes. "Yeah. Pretty cool, right?"
"Val. You're not sixteen, anymore."
"I know." He flashed her a second white-toothed grin. "But they're much more comfortable to dance in than those fancy dress shoes. I always get blisters with those."
Nevaeh snorted elegantly. "You don't say," she said, lifting the hem of her dress and showing off her black pumps. "Blisters one day, blisters always."
"You should try wearing sneakers more often," he teased her. "I think you'd start a new trend."
"Shut up." She pushed him playfully. "Oh, and Happy birthday, by the way," she added, planting a kiss on his forehead. For once she didn't have to stand on her toes to do that since he was still sitting on the chair.
"Thanks, cuz'."
"Are you nervous?" she asked.
"A little." Valerian stood and smoothed the wrinkles out of his suit. "I've never opened a ball before." He ran his fingers in his silver-white hair. "And I still don't know who to choose for the first dance."
"Don't worry," Nevaeh said, putting a hand on his arm. "You'll know. I think," she added. "This Ball doesn't determine the rest of the Selection." She paused. "You just have to dance with whoever you want and eat cake. That's pretty much it."
Valerian laughed nervously. "At least we had fries for lunch," he said. "I can't imagine the guests eating fries tonight. Imagine the greasy hands on the fancy fabrics."
"Ugh, no," Nevaeh replied, wrinkling her nose. "Please don't talk about catastrophes, right now." She took out her phone from her deep dress pocket. "Oh shoot. I have to go meet the guests, see you in an hour!" She ran out the door before Val could say anything. He decided to go see his grandmother until it was time to attend the ball and make his entrance.
Nevaeh knew she wouldn't bump into any girls right now since they were all busy helping each other getting ready. How she missed those girl times with her own friends, back in the day, when she was living in Illéa, or for events at the French royal court. She arrived in the large Entrance Hall just as the first guests arrived.
"Lord and Lady Gladstone," Nevaeh said to the elderly couple who walked into the entrance foyer. "What a pleasure to see you." She curtsied briefly.
"Nevaeh, dear," Lady Gladstone said, taking the young woman in her arms. "It's been so long." She kissed her on the cheeks twice – à la française – and they smiled at each other. Lady Gladstone had been a co-selected of her grandmother's, and the two ladies had been good friends ever since, and close friends of the royal Illéan family, since Lord Gladstone had been a young advisor to the late King – rest his soul.
The couple walked in and many guests followed after them. Nevaeh knew all the names – she totally didn't revise them all like a big vocab test – and welcomed them all, one after the other as the great hostess and event planner she was.
"Naveah de Montignac!" a familiar male voice said, booming through the foyer as she was greeting a Governor who had just arrived with his wife. The couple quickly entered the ballroom to get some refreshments and greet some acquaintances. Nevaeh looked at the new arrival, and it was none other than–
"Ezra Watanabe," she said with a smile and walking over to him. Ezra wrapped her in a hug. "How long has it been?" she asked. "Silas told me you were studying in Waverly?"
"Yeah," he replied. "Political Science Ph.D."
"It sounds fancy," she said. "I'm happy to see you again." She offered him a quick smile – because her heart had doubled its beating rhythm so she needed to focus on something else – and welcomed his younger brother and sister, Liam and Amy, before greeting their parents, the New Asian Ambassador and his wife, who was also Auntie Lena's best friend.
She just caught Amy's hand before she could go hide in the midst of the guests. "Hey, I'm sorry you couldn't apply to the Selection," she said softly.
Amy shrugged one thin shoulder. "Yes, well. I was too young, anyway." She tried a smile and followed her brother inside. Nevaeh was sad Amy had been too young to enter: the poor girl had a massive crush on Val, and everyone close to her knew it. Yes, even Val. Unlike Yuna and her huge crush on Silas. Nevaeh still couldn't wrap her mind around that, to be completely honest.
She continued to welcome the guests who seemed to be never-ending. How many invitations had she sent out for this? Way too many, it seemed. The butler walked over to her, a list in his hand.
"Your Grace," he said, bowing his head slightly. "According to the list, all the guests are accounted for." He paused. "And checked for anything suspicious."
"Thank you, Garett," Nevaeh said. She headed to the ballroom and took a deep breath as she stepped in. The ginormous room looked so much different than usual with actual people filling it.
-o-0-o-
~ Jesse ~
Jesse Flynn was living the dream. This was his first royal ball – his first royal event, really, if you didn't count the Royal Report – and he was overly happy to be surrounded by so much grandeur and dress swishes and tuxedos and food going around on silver platters. It was the life, and he didn't know which lucky star to thank.
He had sent Sydney with an extra cameraman to film aesthetic footage of the ball – people talking, people dancing, food, even drone footage from the high ceiling, with the drone navigating between the giant electric chandeliers. The other half of the team consisted of him and Otis and their job was to interview as many people as possible, preferably the Selected, but any interview was welcome. And since the Selected and the Royals were not here yet, he was navigating between the people, trying to find the right person to talk to. Or rather, the person who would give him the most tea.
As it turned out, that person was actually the New Asian Ambassador's eldest son. And Jesse hadn't even needed to walk up to him and strike up a conversation.
"Jesse Flynn!" the young man said loudly, walking over to Jesse. "Now this is a pleasant surprise." His grin was huge but totally genuine and Jesse immediately felt drawn to this young man. He held out his hand for a shake, and Jesse took it.
"Nice to meet you, …" he trailed off.
"Watanabe," he said. "Ezra Watanabe."
"You're James Bond-ing me, Mr. Watanabe?" Jesse asked, amused.
Ezra laughed, and it was a loud, boisterous laugh. "I've been following the Report every single week, Jesse," the Asian man said, "and reading every article for some juicy information on my best friend." He huffed. "Silas won't tell me anything, but I'm sure you've got more information?"
Jesse frowned. He was one of Silas' friends? How could a man so outgoing and loud be the Crown Prince's best friend, who was so stern and private? "I'm afraid I'm giving you guys everything I have on the Prince," Jesse replied. "I wish I had more information to give." He looked around. "But keep an eye on him tonight," Jesse added. "He might surprise you."
Ezra laughed. "Silas? Yeah. He is quite a surprising man. Even if he doesn't want to admit it." He chuckled again. "Hey, you should meet my brother," he added, grabbing the arm of another tuxedoed young Asian man. "Liam."
Jesse held out his hand and Liam took it, albeit a bit reluctantly.
"You know Jesse, right?" Ezra said to Liam who just nodded and then walked away. "Don't mind him," Ezra said to Jesse. "Dad made him come, he's not really into large crowds or any royal function."
"Can't relate."
"Yeah, me neither."
And just as their conversation ended, Nevaeh walked into the room, her chin high and haughty as ever. But oh, so much glorious in her pink gown with the long puff sleeves. Jesse's heart accelerated a little but he kept himself under control. Why did this woman make him physically weird, but in a good way? She hated him. Her gaze passed over the people and it stopped on him.
Or rather, no. It stopped on Ezra Watanabe standing right next to him. Tall, dark, and loud Ezra. Damnit. Why did everyone have to be so tall? But instead of showing how down he felt at that moment, he squared his shoulders and stood straight, his tall black top hat making him seem taller than he actually was. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Otis hadn't stopped filming. Oh well, he'd edit the whole thing later.
Jesse also hoped that she'd see his boutonniere. He had done the same thing as the Princes and donned his own rose. He hoped she would notice.
And she did.
"Jesse Flynn," she breathed out looking at his chest, her perfect brows scrunching together. "It was you. The whole time."
Jesse looked at her almost eye-to-eye thanks to her heels. "Maybe?" He had wanted to be mysterious. He had wanted to do like the Princes. And the white rose had been perfect. "Do you know what white roses mean?" he asked.
"Death. Purity. Innocence." Nevaeh didn't seem impressed in the least.
"I'm not sure it means death," Jesse said, frowning. "I'll have to check that up." He paused. "But it does symbolize a new beginning," he offered. "And I was hoping we could –"
"Her Majesty the Queen, Queen Helena Jane Schreave of Illéa!" the Butler, James Garett, announced, cutting all the conversations in the ballroom. The guests split in two, making a passage from the doors to the three thrones that were waiting on a small stage that was the width of the room. She was dressed in a dark grey off-the-shoulder high-low gown with exquisite lace embroidered on it, paired with pale pink shoes and a diamond tiara in her dark curls pinned in an updo. Queen Helena always knew how to make an entrance, and Otis didn't miss one second of it.
"His Royal Highness, Prince Consort Tobias Schreave of Illéa!" Garret continued when the queen was sitting on the throne in the middle. She had walked rather quickly the length of the room, making eye contact with a few people on the way. The guests curtsied or bowed as she passed, making it seem like a giant wave of people flowing as the royals walked by. The Prince Consort, dressed in a burgundy and black tuxedo with cream white shoes, followed the same path as his wife and sat next to her, to her right.
"Her Royal Majesty the Queen mother, Queen Beatrice Schreave of Illéa!" The Queen mother looked ethereal in her gray mermaid dress with long sleeves and her diamond tiara on her silver-white hair done in a braid-y kind of updo. She smiled and nodded at the people who curtsied and bowed in a wave, following her progress through the long ballroom. She sat on the Queen's left, on the last remaining throne.
"His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Silas Schreave of Illéa!" Silas was dressed in all black, except for his white dress shirt and the red rose he wore on his chest. He didn't make eye-contact with anyone and kept his gaze fixed on the three occupied thrones. His strides were purposeful and his only goal in life right now was to get to the other side of the room as quickly as possible. Jesse looked around for his bodyguard, but since he was some kind of ninja, he didn't spot him. He was either already at the other end of the room, waiting for the prince, or walking at the same pace as him, hidden. One would never know. Jesse also wanted to comment on everything that was happening right now, but he would be silly to talk out loud in front of everyone: he would just add a voice-over or something during editing.
"His Royal Highness, Prince Nathan Schreave of Illéa!" When Nathan walked in and started waving and grinning at everyone, Jesse wanted to facepalm. Everyone was so formal and straight-forward. But no, not Nathan. He touched hands, stroke poses for the cameras, and laughed. Jesse looked at Queen Helena at the other end of the room, and she was not amused. His orange bow tie and boutonniere contrasted wildly with his gray tuxedo.
"His Royal Highness, Prince Valerian Schreave of Illéa!" The pink tie, pink shoes, and pink boutonniere on Valerian's light gray suit went really well with his complexion and his silver hair. He wasn't as stern and formal as Silas, neither as goofy and open as Nate, but he was the Birthday boy and he knew it. He grinned and waved, too, but it was much more subdued.
When all three princes had been introduced to the guest – and standing on the stage with their parents and grandmother, Silas next to his father and the two others next to the queen mother – the Butler started introducing the Selected, in alphabetical order, just as Nevaeh had told him.
"Lady Abigail Correll, from Calgary!" She was the first to enter and set the bar high with her white shimmering gown. Abigail walked with her head high, her shoulders back, and with a sure step. Jesse was surprised she didn't trip on the long hem of her dress, but then again, she was a dancer, so she had balance. The silver accessory came out nicely in her dark brown hair and her blood-red lips were a stark contrast with her clear outfit. When she had crossed the whole room under the watchful gaze of everyone – and especially the princes – she curtsied low in front of the Queen before standing to the side.
As the girls came in, Jesse was either surprised, horrified, or in total awe of their outfits. Anastasia Pembroke, the Lieutenant from Whites, was wearing a suit – with a pencil skirt – and a pastel pink blouse. What did the girl not understand in 'Formal ball, black tie'? The next one that horrified him was Ivy Kotzias. She was wearing a pantsuit! Why in the world? And then Jacinta Bazán-Murillo walked in with her neon pink mermaid dress, making his eyes bleed.
Mia Williams sure had chosen a huge dress, worthy of the French monarchy. Some others had huge ballgowns as well, and Jesse thought they were a little too much over-the-top and he wondered what Nevaeh thought of all these outfits. He made a mental note to go interview her later on that matter.
-o-0-o-
~ Valerian ~
Valerian wasn't as used as his brothers – especially Silas – to be paraded at royal events, let alone balls. His birthday parties had always been kind of private with close friends and family, and usually with a big dinner followed by cake and presents. He was lucky to have his birthday in the middle of July because that meant he was home from school or college, and he didn't need to have the whole cafeteria singing happy birthday to him as they did to other people.
As he waited with his family outside the doors, he was feeling nervous: his hands were sweaty, his tie was too tight, and his heart was beating a tad too fast for his taste. When his parents and grandmother went in, Silas took a few seconds to squeeze his shoulder.
"It'll be okay," he said, though Valerian wondered for whose sake Silas was saying that. "Just keep your eyes on Marmee."
"Pfft," Nathan interrupted. "Wave and smile, Val! The people are happy to see you, trust me."
Then both his brothers had been announced and he was left alone in the hall. When his name was finally announced – he thought it had been hours later – he stepped into the ball and was immediately overwhelmed by everything: the hush of the ballroom as people looked at him – and judged his choice in shoes, probably; the smell of a mixture of so many perfumes, it was almost giving him a headache; and of course, he couldn't dismiss the giant table on his left, just inside the room, laid with a huge pile of nicely wrapped gifts along with birthday cards.
He took a deep breath and started walking, his eyes fixed on his grandmother, the only person in the room who didn't seem to be judging him. Her smile was soothing and calm, and it made him relax pretty quickly. He also heeded Nate's advice and tried to wave and make eye-contact with some people. The guests bowed and curtsied as he walked by, creating a human wave. He also noticed Amy Watanabe in an ombrémauve tulle dress and was suddenly glad she had been too young to apply for the Selection: he didn't think he could have dealt with a girl he already knew and who had a crush on him.
He made it to the other side of the room – how long was this ballroom anyway? – and bowed to the queen, his mother. He stood to the side, next to Nathan, and waited. The Selected girls then were announced one by one.
He made sure to smile encouragingly to each and everyone, not only those who were on his list, and made a mental list of the ones he'd dance with that evening. But the most important question was to decide who he'd open the ball with. He had absolutely no idea, and Nevaeh had said he'd know. Did he, though?
All the girls were pretty, if not beautiful, and he had no idea who to choose. What if he chose someone his brothers wanted to dance with first? Should he have asked them beforehand? Well, it was too late for that, now.
"Lady Laelia Castano, from Likely!" the butler was saying when Valerian focused again on his surroundings. He couldn't believe he had missed half the girls coming in, only seeing them and not really looking at them. She was dressed in a dark red gown, almost the color of blood, with lacy embroideries on it, and the pointy edges on the top of the dress gave him chills. He knew what this girl was capable of, especially if her writing had anything to do with it: he had tried to read her book, but the horror of the story had given him a couple of sleepless nights. But he had to admit that she was pretty, in a terrifying way. And a good writer.
After her came Leigh Altman in a quite revealing yet elegant beige dress, Malia Ka'aukai in an orange and blue gown worthy of a see goddess – if Valerian had to say so himself – followed by a stunning Morrigan Ventura in an asymmetric and sexy forest green gown, revealing a thin leg thanks to a high slit in the skirt. Valerian was surprised to see a headpiece that could have been a tiara had she been wearing it a bit differently, but Nevaeh would never have let that happen: tiaras were only for married princesses and queens.
The next one who walked in was Odessa Fan, wearing what seemed like the softest pink dress Valerian had ever seen. From afar, it seemed to have pink and baby blue flowers sewn at the sleeves and the waist, and the hem went to the floor. He just hoped she wouldn't–
"Oh crap!" he muttered as Odessa tripped on the hem of the tulle skirt, her shoes slipping on the fabric.
Valerian didn't even think. There was no way he was leaving her alone in this situation, so he ran towards her and helped her get up.
"Hey, it's okay, I got you," he whispered. She looked up at him, pale as a ghost, and mortified of what had just happened. But Valerian offered her a comforting smile and walked all the way to the end of the ballroom with her. He bowed again in front of his mother as Odessa curtsied low. Then he escorted her to where the other Selected were standing and he squeezed her hand.
"Thanks," she said, barely above a whisper. Color had come back to her cheeks and Valerian wasn't even sorry for breaking one of the many rules of royal ballroom etiquette. How many would be broken that evening? He didn't even dare meet his mother's eyes, or Nevaeh's for that matter.
But when he had taken his place again next to Nate, the calling of the girls continued, but now that he knew who he was going to dance with to open up the Ball, he was much more relaxed. And when the last girl joined the other Selected, his mother stood, a glass of Champagne in her hand.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," she said with a bright smile. "Tonight, we celebrate Prince Valerian's twenty-second birthday." She paused, smiled at her youngest son, and lifted her glass for a toast. "Val, happy birthday." The music started again and she invited him with a graceful gesture of her arm to open the ball.
Valerian took a deep breath and nodded once, smiling back at his mother. Then, his gaze fell on the girl with the pink dress who had tripped and fell. He locked eyes with the young woman and stopped just in front of her, holding out his hand.
"Odessa," he said, offering her his best smile. "Will you dance with me?"
Odessa's lips bloomed into a pink smile and she took his hand. "It would be an honor," she replied with a hint of amusement and excitement in her voice. She took his hand and Valerian was pleased with how warm it felt in his hand, though it wasn't as soft as he'd expect it to be: a florist's hands were always scarred and a bit coarse. But since she'd been in the Selection, she hadn't done any manual work with flowers so her hands had softened a bit. Not completely, though, but Valerian didn't mind.
He led her to the center of the ballroom, holding her hand at shoulder-level, as everyone backed away to give them some space. The music paused just long enough for them to bow and curtsy to each other, and then they locked hands and started the waltz in front of the whole group of guests gawking and already making assumptions about why he had chosen this girl for the first dance.
Val didn't care. He wasn't even sure himself. Was it to make up for her fall? Was it because her outfit matched his? Was it because he had laughed 5 minutes straight with her on their first meeting and he knew he'd feel comfortable around her? He had no idea. Maybe this was a mistake, or maybe this was the best thing ever.
For now, all he could think of were the grey eyes looking back at him, and he didn't even notice when his mother gestured for Nate and Silas to join in with their own first partners. He only noticed when the other two dresses swished close by.
-o-0-o-
~ Silas ~
Silas hated to be paraded in front of everyone like some expensive horse. But at least he didn't have to open the ball and he could choose his partner for once. While the Selected were introduced and walked the length of the ball, he took the time to focus on the nine ladies on his list of favorites, trying to figure out who would be his first choice.
And it was all strategic thinking because since he could dance with each one only once during the evening, he knew that the first one would be long gone by the end of the evening. So should he dance with someone he favored least or most on his list? Oh, and Nevaeh had given him a list of the best dancers to choose from. Unfortunately, only a handful of 'his' girls were on that list.
He would also be a liar if he said none of the girls coming down the long aisle in their gowns didn't do anything to him. He was not emotionless. Just… careful. He vowed never to let his heart guide him ever again and now was not the moment to break that vow.
Until the last two girls of the Selection walked down the aisle, their gaze boring into him like flames down his soul. His breath hitched in his chest when the girl in the sexy red dress locked eyes with him, head high and shoulders back, her red lips curled in the tiniest smile. He knew he was screwed. Also, that slit in her dress made him weak in the knees. What was wrong with him? Ximena Oliveira joined the other Selected on the side, breaking eye-contact as the last girl was announced.
Though Silas had already seen Yuna Anders-Caswell in ball gowns before, nothing could have prepared him for the sight walking down the room towards him. He was used to seeing her in pastel color tulle gowns, with a strong 'princess-y vibe' to them. But now? She was wearing a black dress with dark blue flowers on the skirt. It was a far cry from the 'little girl' dresses she had always worn. And for the first time in the Selection, Silas actually saw her as a potential contender. Not just like the girl he'd known from childhood who had a crush on him, but as a young woman who was also fighting for his hand. And he honestly didn't know what to think about that.
His mind was still going at two-hundred miles an hour, trying to figure out who he needed to ask on his first dance when his father nudged him in the arm.
"It's time, Silas," he whispered. "Pick your first dance."
Silas had two seconds to decide, and he went for the girl in blue and black. He was going for the easy way since they had already shared a dance or two at prior events: he knew that she was also an excellent dancer and that he wouldn't have to build up the courage later to ask her. He stepped down the stage and went for Yuna, who was standing dangerously close to Ximena. But he kept his eyes on his best friend.
"Yuna?" he simply said, holding out his hand and looking into those deep brown eyes he knew so well. Those eyes he had talked to so many times without fear of being judged or mocked. Yuna took his hand, and he led her to the center of the ballroom where Val and Odessa were dancing. Nathan and his partner, Jenissa Stark, joined them as well.
They had been dancing for a couple of minutes – and Silas was doing his best not to be too close to Yuna or to look her in the eyes, like he usually did – when she broke the awkward silence between them.
"Why did you choose me, Silas?" she asked. "You've been avoiding me since day 1."
"That's… not entirely true," he replied just as the rest of the guests joined in the dance, pairing up around them. "I wasn't ignoring you."
"But why did you choose me?" she asked again, searching his eyes, but he wouldn't meet hers.
The steps of the waltz came naturally to them and they didn't even have to think about it. "Because you're a Selected like all the others," he replied, not completely revealing his reason. "And you're easy to dance with." He briefly met her eyes and they shared a knowing smile.
The dance continued for another few minutes until the music slowed down and eventually stopped. All the couples parted and the men bowed to their partners as the ladies curtsied. Yuna quickly walked away, leaving Silas alone in the middle of all the guests. If he could have his way, he'd call it a night and just ditch the whole party. Unfortunately, he couldn't. He needed to dance at least a few times with different partners before taking a break for food and wine. Preferably wine, though. Red, if possible.
The closest lady around who was on his list was Brandy Bradford. So to avoid being rude and looking for someone else he had in mind, he asked her. Also because he was a gentleman and he didn't want people to think he couldn't navigate these social waters. He could. He definitely could. Even though he'd like nothing better than to lock himself up in his room and play music. Or play with Doug. Or sleep. Or all of the above.
"Brandy," he said, walking over. "Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?"
Her face split into a wide grin. "Yes, of course!"
Not the reply etiquette demanded, but that was fine, too. As the music started again, they danced together. When she stepped on his toes – "Oops, sorry…" – he remembered she was not on Nevaeh's list of good dancers. Oh well. At least no one was watching him like before since the room was filled with dancing pairs. She babbled on, clearly nervous to be dancing with the Crown Prince, and Silas tried to pay attention to what she was saying. But he couldn't. Because right above her head, he saw her, in a glorious golden gown, her red hair in loose curls around her face
His high school crush. The girl who had broken not only his heart but his confidence and his self-esteem. The redhead who hadn't even known what she'd done. And never would, for that matter. It was something he would never share with anyone.
She was looking at him, as well, while dancing with another man whom Silas had no idea who he was.
When the music stopped, Brandy curtsied and walked away, while Silas just stood there. Why did this girl still make him feel all funny inside? Though it wasn't pleasant like the butterflies in his stomach when Ximena was near him. Or a pleasant peace you felt around a friend. This girl gave him PTSD from high school.
Seventeen-year-old Silas had just finished his presentation for the geography class and it had been awful as always, but not as bad as usual. And what had Robin Anders-Caswell done? Teased him. In front of the whole class.
"I can't believe the future King of Illéa can barely say two sentences without stumbling on his words or becoming beet-red," she had said, laughing. It was harmless, really, a poke at her friend. It was harmless to anyone else who was not the crown prince and future king of Illéa. The whole class laughed and Silas just went back to his seat, sinking inside as low as he could.
What Robin didn't know – and would never know – was that though every girl had eyes only for him, he had eyes only for her. His crush was physically painful and he had thought, at the time, that it was love. It had been merely an infatuation, to be honest. But the only girl he was interested in wasn't interested in him. Sure, they'd been friends for years and their families were close and they'd continue to be friends after that. But there was only one more year of school together, anyway. After that, each would go their separate way.
Another thing Robin Anders-Caswell would never know was that this little comment had broken his self-confidence and his self-esteem like nothing else ever had. His presentation had gone without too many stumbles, and he clearly cared about what she thought. Ever since that day, he had turned off his heart and turned on his brain, forbidding it to let his heart lead the way. Ever again.
"Robin," he simply said once she was close to him.
"Silas, what a pleasant surprise!"
"It's not a surprise, you knew I'd be here."
"True," she replied. "But it's still nice to see you again!" She swatted him on the arm, like two old 'buddies' and grinned. "Would you like to dance?" she asked as the music started again.
Silas didn't answer but he bowed to her in agreement, just to make sure the feelings he had back then were gone. Maybe with this dance, he could put things behind and go forward. She curtsied to him and they started dancing.
"Isn't it funny that my sister has had a crush on you like forever!" she said, giggling. "I mean, I knew there was someone she liked but I never thought it'd be you."
Silas didn't reply right away. "Yes, it's funny how fate likes to play with us."
Robin eyed him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"
Silas looked at her bronze eyes and shook his head. "Nothing. I'm just mumbling nonsense." And just like that, he decided this woman wouldn't have any more hold on his heart and that he would leave her in the past. His knees were not weak at the sight of her, and his heart hadn't accelerated. He didn't feel anything for her. He could forget about her.
The problem was that it was a bit more complicated than that. With Yuna in the Selection and their father working as an advisor to the Queen, she would always kind of be in the picture. But not in his mind anymore.
They finished the dance and parted ways.
-o-0-o-
~ Nathan ~
For Nathan, this ball was the perfect opportunity to kind of 'test' the girls. Did they fit well in his arms? How did their hands feel in his? How did they react to his flirting? Did they flirt first or did they flit back? Maybe he could find a few who'd be willing to… you know… go there with him. So the first dance didn't matter who it was since he had a long list of 24 girls to dance with. There would be very little food or drink break for him.
Also, why he chose Jenissa Stark to start the evening with, he had no idea. She was probably the first one he looked at when his mother invited him to dance. Or maybe it was because that slit in her skirt made his mind wander a bit. Or maybe it was because she was his Star Wars soulmate. He had no clue. But there he was, dancing with her. Nathan couldn't even tell if she was a good dancer or not since he himself had two left feet, but at least he didn't step on her toes in front of everyone. His fashion sense made up for his lack in dancing skills, anyway. Maybe by the end of the evening, he'd get the hang of it. Right?
That, or he'd be using his skills elsewhere.
Nathan wished he could actually talk while dancing, but he wasn't sure if the girl in the navy-blue sexy gown was taking his breath away, or if he was actually in need of more cardio training.
"Did you know that the eyes are the window of the soul?" Jenissa said after a couple of minutes of dancing in silence, looking up at the prince's eyes. He was surprised to actually hear a foreign accent in her words. How could he have missed that? Was it Spanish? Portuguese? Something else?
"Oh really," he said. "And what can you see?" he asked.
"That you're hungry." She paused and smiled a very devilish smile.
"Hungry for what?" he continued, indulging her in her musings.
She leaned in closer and whispered in his ear so no one else could hear: "For a little diversion," she paused. Her lips tickled his ear. "Away from everyone." She looked back at his eyes, and he at hers. Those big, round dark brown eyes that – if he had to be honest with himself – were making him a little weak in the knees. That, or it was the prospect of what she was suggesting. Could it really be that easy?
"Are you suggesting–"
"My room, eleven o'clock," she said.
He let his hand slide lower down her back and just at the spot where her hips widened. "I'll keep my eyes on the time," he replied with a smirk.
"Excellent."
The music slowed, indicating the end of the dance, and then stopped. When he bowed to her, he took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles. He knew this was always a girl's weakness, and he would use everything he knew. He already had a date for later that evening, and he could honestly not believe his luck.
The next girl he danced with was Morrigan Ventura, the actress whom he was a fan of, and who had surprised him more than once with how different she was in real life.
"Miss Ventura," he said, walking up to the young woman in the dark green gown.
She turned around and her smoky makeup and plump red lips stirred the flame in the pit of his stomach. Of course, anything he felt for these women was purely physical at the moment. He had never managed to forge a real relationship, and he didn't even know where to start with that. He didn't believe in relationships and love, anyway. That was old-school.
"Will you honor me with the next dance?" he asked.
She was one of the tall girls of the Selection, and with her 5-inch heels, she was practically eye-to-eye with him. "Of course, Your Highness," she said, curtsying as the music was about to start.
Again, they started dancing in silence and he honestly felt like he was dancing with Rosaline Dawson, in the show. It had been one of his fantasies, to be honest, and the man had collected beautiful pictures of her in lingerie, thanks to her modeling just the right outfit, so it was a dream come true.
"I'm sorry to ask you, Nathan," she said, cutting through his thoughts. "But why are you smiling like that?" she paused, frowning slightly. "It's a little bit creepy..."
Nathan's smile dropped. Either she was a super good mind-reader, or he was really being a creep. He figured it was the latter. "Please forgive me," he said. "It's just –" could he tell her the truth, though? "I've been a big fan of yours for some years, and I'm just happy to finally be dancing with one of my celebrity crushes." Which was half the truth. Nathan Schreave did not have celebrity crushes. He was the celebrity crush others had.
"Oh," she said. But she was still a little tense so Nathan decided to relax his smile and try to make her feel comfortable. Maybe he could also land a late-night date with her, as well? But he didn't want to sound like a creep again.
They continued to dance in silence for a while. Then, Nathan said: "Would you be willing to meet me later, in a more private location?" he asked, keeping his voice down now that there were other dancers around them.
"What?!" she hissed back at him. "No way." And without any warning, she terminated the dance and walked away.
So much for trying, Nathan thought, running a hand through his hair and looking around at the people noticing him standing alone in the middle of the Ballroom. The dance was not yet finished, and he looked ridiculous.
The person who saved him was Abigail Correll. And she was quite the sight in her white shimmering gown revealing quite a bit of skin. She placed her hands in his and led the dance. Being a dancer herself – though a hip-hop dancer – she was able to start smoothly with him.
"What happened with Morrigan?" she asked.
"Apparently, she doesn't like my flirting," he replied, making a whole show of being hurt when he knew he had pushed a little too much. Morrigan was not Rosaline Dawson, nor a femme fatale. And he would need to put that in his head once and for all.
"Huh," Abigail said. "Also, can I ask a favor of you, Your Highness?" she asked.
"Only if you would stop calling me that and use my real name."
She nodded. "Deal. So can you– Ow!"
"Oops, sorry," he said. "I'm a terrible dancer and I know it." He paused. "Are your toes okay?"
"Yes," she replied. "Look, my dad is here because he's the Governor of Calgary and all, but I want to spite him."
Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"It's a long story and maybe I'll tell you one day. Just– not tonight…"
"Okay." He nodded as the music started to slow down. "What do you need?"
"I need you to make out with me in a corner of this room – so my dad can see it – and I want him to understand that I am not his little Cinderella. Maybe even tarnish the Correll name in showing that I am not a little saint."
The music stopped and they bowed and curtsied to each other. "Consider it done," he said. "Come and get me when you're ready. Oh, and I'll put Jesse on the job to film, too, if that helps."
Abigail nodded, smirking. "Even better. I'll see you later, then."
And just like that, Nathan already had 2 rendezvous for the evening. One private, and one public. He rubbed his hands together and made a mental note to check the time so he wouldn't miss Jenissa, and to keep an eye on Abigail for when she needed him to do this… favor.
One after the other, he danced with the 24 girls on his list, the 24 remaining Selected. And he had all night to do that.
Hewwo! Hope you enjoyed this first part! let me know what you thought of the new POVs, too^^
also, I posted all the outfits on Instagram in the past couple of weeks, so go check them out if you want! I also just posted them on Pinterest. and for the ones who have neither IG nor Pinterest, I've tried to describe them as best I could, without overwhelming the story without too man details... who's your favorite Selected outfit? and Prince's outfit? let me know as well! ;)
Nathan will be a little naughty in the next chapter, but I'll tell you when there will be a bit more mature paragraphs... don't worry!
hope these 2 weeks weren't too long for you^^, but I'm glad to be back! XD see you next week for Part 2 of the ball! :D