The holy ruler

A Night of Masks and Deception

Prince Adam's POV:

I, Prince Adam, stood at the edge of the grand ballroom, surveying the scene before me. The English and French courts mingled, their laughter and music filling the air. My father, the French King, beamed with pride as he danced with the English Queen. I, on the other hand, felt like a prisoner, trapped in this political game of marriage and alliances.

My gaze fell upon the English Princess, Anastasia. She was as beautiful as I remembered, her curves accentuated by the lavish gown. But, alas, she was not the one who had captured my heart. That distinction belonged to her sister, Mary Tudor. I had met Mary briefly during our families' initial meeting, and her intelligence and wit had left me smitten.

But now, as I looked at Anastasia, I couldn't help but feel a growing disdain for her. She seemed so strong-willed and stern, just like her mother, the late Queen Genevieve. Her sharp tongue and quick wit intimidated even the most seasoned courtiers. How could my father possibly expect me to marry her?

I made my way through the crowds, searching for Mary. Ah, there she was, her dark hair and piercing eyes a stark contrast to her sister's radiant beauty. We exchanged a brief, knowing glance, and I felt a thrill run through me.

"Mary," I said, approaching her with a bow. "You look stunning tonight. Your beauty rivals the stars."

Mary curtsied, a smug smile playing on her lips. "Thank you, Prince Adam. You're far too kind, but you don't need to flatter me so much. You're here to do your duty, not to chase after fleeting attractions."

I forced a smile, determined not to let her condescending words affect me. "I speak the truth," I replied, offering her my arm. "May I have the pleasure of a dance?"

As we moved across the dance floor, I leaned in close, our voices barely audible above the music. "Mary, I must confess, I find myself drawn to your intellect and grace. You are a true gem among the English court."

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, though I could tell there was an edge to her voice. "And I, Prince Adam, find your passion for art and literature quite captivating. You are a rare find among the French nobility, though I wonder if it's your true nature or simply a product of the family you've been born into."

Our conversation flowed, though I couldn't shake the feeling that Mary was only half-listening. It was clear she was more interested in using me for her own gain, but it didn't matter. Her aloofness only made her more desirable.

Meanwhile, Anastasia stood across the room, her soft smile directed toward us. I thought she would be upset, but she didn't seem to care. Her indifference to the situation was almost as disconcerting as Mary's condescension. It was clear as day neither of us wanted to marry one another, but somehow, my father was determined to force this alliance.

The dance ended, and I found myself more resolved than ever to find a way to change my father's mind. I couldn't marry Anastasia, not when my heart belonged to her sister. I made a silent vow to myself: I would do whatever it took to make Mary mine. Little did I know, Mary was using me, and Anastasia-sweet, kind Anastasia-was the one who truly didn't care about any of it.

Anastasia's POV:

I watched as Adam danced with Mary, his words of flattery and admiration falling so easily from his lips. It was almost laughable. I could see right through the play, his infatuation with her sister so obvious it could have been carved into stone. I didn't care, though. I had other matters to focus on, and Adam's affections-whether directed at me or Mary-didn't even warrant my attention.

Mary, on the other hand, was a different story. She had always been a bit condescending, even when we were children. That sharp edge in her voice when she spoke to me always grated on my nerves. Yet, despite her coldness and arrogance, I remained nothing but sweet to her. What else could I do? I would never let her behavior affect me.