Isabel Past

Chapter 3

Isabel's family stood frozen, their expressions reflecting the collective shock and confusion brought by the sudden announcement. The revelation that Crown Prince Nicolas was engaged to Lady Sonia sent ripples of disbelief through them all. It wasn't just the surprise of the engagement—it was the abruptness, the new faces, the air of secrecy. For years, there had been subtle murmurs that the king himself had been quietly considering Isabel as a potential match for Nicolas. She was a lady of grace, intelligence, and noble lineage. It wasn't a far-fetched idea. Now, in the blink of an eye, all those unspoken possibilities had evaporated.

Her father's face darkened with frustration, his hand gripping the edge of his coat as though steadying himself. Isabel knew that look—it was the look he wore when he was about to speak his mind when he felt an injustice had been done. "I'll speak with the king," he muttered, his voice edged with steel. "This wasn't part of the plan. He must explain—"

But before he could move, Isabel and her mother, Nicolette, stopped him. Isabel's hand gently touched his arm, while her mother stepped closer, her voice firm yet quiet. "No, dear," Nicolette said, her eyes filled with caution. "Now is not the time. We must keep our composure. It will do us no good to make a scene in front of the entire court."

Isabel's father hesitated, his jaw clenched tightly, but eventually, he nodded. Isabel could feel the tension in the air between them, unspoken words hanging like a heavy curtain. Her father's disappointment mirrored her own, but she knew her mother was right. Disrupting in the middle of the king's celebration would only harm their family's reputation. Still, the pain in Isabel's chest grew heavier, and the courage she had gathered earlier, the words she had wanted to say to Nicolas, now seemed like distant, foolish dreams.

Her heart felt like it was sinking deeper and deeper with each passing moment. She had wanted to tell Nicolas, to confess her feelings, even if only to give herself closure. But now that hope was gone, obliterated in an instant by the announcement of his engagement to someone else. How could she speak of her heart now, when it was so clear that there had never been a place for her in his? Their friendship had been precious to her, but perhaps that's all it had ever been to him. She had been foolish to hope for something more, to imagine that he might see her as anything beyond the girl he had grown up with.

As the applause died down, Isabel felt a growing urge to leave, to escape the confines of the ballroom and the eyes of the court. She needed space, a place to grieve in private, away from the glances of those who might sense her pain. She wanted to disappear, to fade into the background as she had always done in moments like this. But just as she took a step back, preparing to slip away, the king's voice boomed over the crowd.

"And now," he declared, his voice filled with regal command, "we shall commence the Spring Ball Dance!"

A murmur of approval swept through the room, and the court musicians began to play a soft, lilting melody. Isabel's escape was thwarted. Leaving now would be considered rude, almost disrespectful to the king's wishes, especially during such a significant moment. As much as she longed to flee, she knew she couldn't. Her family, too, stood rooted in place, their expressions masked by a veneer of calm, despite the turmoil swirling within.

From the edge of the room, Isabel watched as Nicolas extended his hand to Lady Sonia. The crowd parted, giving them space at the center of the grand ballroom as they prepared to lead the dance. Nicolas looked every bit the prince he was meant to be—elegant, composed, his movements graceful as he took Lady Sonia's hand. Lady Sonia, with her raven-black hair gleaming under the candlelight, smiled softly, her beauty almost ethereal. Together, they stepped onto the floor, and the music swelled, filling the room with a soft, romantic melody that seemed to mock Isabel's aching heart.