Cursed By Fate

The Royal ball

Chapter 33: The Royal Ball

The grand ballroom of the palace was alive with excitement and elegance, the air thick with anticipation. The floors gleamed with polished marble, and the ceiling glittered with chandeliers, casting a warm glow on the gathered nobles and royalty from neighboring kingdoms. Velvet curtains framed tall windows, through which the night sky stretched out, stars twinkling like jewels on black silk.

Servants moved gracefully through the crowd, offering drinks and delicacies, while the noble guests murmured among themselves, their eyes glinting with both intrigue and competition. All of them knew the purpose of this ball—to present their daughters, princesses and noblewomen alike, to the crown prince of Valoria, Ryker. It was his coming of age, and they had all come with the hopes that he would choose a bride.

The herald stood tall at the entrance, his voice booming through the hall as he began to announce the arrival of the distinguished guests.

“Princess Anwen of Veloria!” The first name rang out, and a hush fell over the crowd as Princess Anwen entered. She was tall and graceful, with flowing golden hair and a gown of shimmering blue silk. Her beauty was undeniable, and she held her head high with the poise of someone well-aware of her charm.

“Princess Elara of Vyndral!” The next princess was darker in complexion, her raven-black hair cascading down her back in soft waves. Her emerald green dress hugged her form, and her eyes gleamed with intelligence and cunning.

“Princess Selene of Arderon!” Another stunning beauty stepped forward, her platinum blonde hair styled in elaborate braids. Dressed in a gown of deep purple, she exuded confidence and power, her every movement graceful and deliberate.

One by one, the names were called: Princesses from every neighboring kingdom, each one more breathtaking than the last, each with their own agenda to win Prince Ryker’s favor. The room buzzed with whispers, admiration, and thinly veiled jealousy.

But no matter how beautiful or regal the princesses were, all eyes in the room were awaiting the true star of the night—Prince Ryker.

Suddenly, the grand doors at the far end of the hall swung open, and the murmurs turned into a collective gasp.

“Prince Ryker of Valoria!” the herald announced.

Ryker strode into the ballroom, his presence commanding the attention of everyone present. His dark, fitted attire was embroidered with golden thread that caught the light as he walked, accentuating his powerful frame. The insignia of the royal family, a gleaming lightning bolt, was proudly displayed on his chest. His hair was styled back, and his piercing electric-yellow eyes swept across the room with cool detachment.

Shrieks of admiration broke out from the noblewomen and princesses, some of them covering their mouths in awe, while others exchanged excited whispers. There wasn’t a single woman in the room who wasn’t mesmerized by his appearance, and even some of the noblemen felt the weight of his presence. Ryker was more than just handsome—he was a force to be reckoned with, and everyone knew it.

He moved through the crowd like a storm, untouchable, his gaze never lingering too long on anyone. The nobles parted for him as though he were royalty incarnate, clearing a path as he approached the front of the ballroom. Whispers followed him, eyes tracking his every movement.

But it wasn’t just Ryker who drew attention that night.

Following closely behind him, in sharp contrast to the extravagance of the other women, was Aria. Dressed in her armor, she was every bit the warrior she had always been. Her silver armor gleamed under the chandeliers, and though it was practical, it was also crafted with an elegance that fit her form perfectly. Her long hair, usually left untamed, was tied back, accentuating the sharp angles of her face, highlighting her cheekbones and piercing eyes.