Valencia Esmeray

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 - I : Valencia Esmeray

The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of Valencia Esmeray's opulent dressing room, casting soft shadows across the room filled with silk and lace. Valencia stood before a tall mirror, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of ink. She regarded her reflection critically, the image of beauty and power that the world revered, yet all she saw were the cracks beneath the surface-each flaw a reminder of her burden.

As she reached for her favorite shade of crimson lipstick, a wave of frustration washed over her. She twisted the tube, and it snapped in her hand, the deep red wax breaking off and falling onto the vanity. Valencia scowled at the mess, her patience fraying like the lace of her gown. "Damn it!" she exclaimed, the sound echoing in the lavish room, startling her maid, Gloria, who was diligently arranging her jewelry nearby.

"Madam, I-" Gloria began, but Valencia cut her off, her voice sharp with irritation.

"Just-just leave me be! Can't you see I'm already under enough pressure without your incessant chatter?" Valencia snapped, her emerald eyes blazing.

Gloria recoiled slightly, her hands trembling as she placed the broken lipstick aside. "Of course, my lady. I'll just-"

"Just what? Stand there and watch me ruin everything?" Valencia's frustration bubbled over as she rummaged through her drawers, searching for a replacement. She had never been one for social gatherings, preferring the solitude of her estate and the comfort of her dark magic. But tonight was different; she had to attend the royal family's gala-an event that would bring together the elite of society, where she would be expected to shine like the brightest jewel.

With a resigned sigh, she finally found a different lipstick-a rich, dark shade that complemented her gown. She applied it with precision, though her thoughts wandered to the web of lies and manipulation that had woven her fortune. As one of the wealthiest businesswomen in the kingdom, she owned a renowned line of fashion clothing for the elite, yet most of her wealth had come from shrewd dealings and the subtle art of persuasion. Behind the elegance lay the skills of an immortal witch, a legacy she wore...

"Madam, you must hurry!" Gloria urged, glancing nervously at the clock. "The royal family is expecting you, and it wouldn't do to arrive late."

Valencia sighed, the weight of her duties pressing down upon her. "I can't bear these gatherings," she muttered, turning away from the mirror. "The insipid chatter, the forced smiles... It's suffocating."

"Perhaps you could consider it an opportunity?" Gloria suggested, though her tone was cautious. "You might meet someone... interesting."

"Interesting?" Valencia echoed with a scoff. "You mean another pompous lord looking to claim me as his trophy? No, thank you."

Gloria flinched, and Valencia's heart softened, if only slightly. She sighed again, running a hand through her hair. "I apologize, Gloria. I'm just... under pressure."

"Of course, madam," the maid replied, offering a sympathetic smile. "I'll get your wrap."

As Valencia donned the elegant cloak that framed her figure, she felt the tension in her chest tighten. She was running late. The gala would already be in full swing, and she had promised to make an appearance that would dazzle and intrigue. The thought of entering a room filled with judgmental eyes filled her with dread, but her reputation demanded she comply.

The ride to the royal estate felt interminable, the carriage rocking gently beneath her as she stared out at the passing scenery. The moon hung high in the sky, casting an otherworldly glow over the landscape. She could already imagine the glimmer of chandeliers and the echo of laughter that would greet her upon arrival.

When she finally stepped out of the carriage, the grandeur of the royal estate loomed before her, its towering spires and ornate architecture a testament to the wealth that surrounded her. As she entered the grand ballroom, the music swelled around her, and the air was thick with the scents of rich perfumes and expensive wine.

Valencia steeled herself, taking a deep breath to calm the storm within. She maneuvered through the throngs of elegantly dressed guests, her presence commanding attention even as she avoided eye contact. Glasses clinked, laughter erupted, and the sound of high society filled the air like a cacophony.

As the evening wore on, she found herself gravitating toward the bar, pouring a generous glass of red wine. She took a sip, savoring the warmth that spread through her, the alcohol loosening her tightly wound nerves. Yet, even as the effects of the wine began to take hold, she remained a reluctant observer, not wanting to engage in the superficial conversations that surrounded her.

A soft chuckle broke through her haze, pulling her from her thoughts. Valencia turned to see a tall figure approach-Prince Ian, the heir to the throne, with striking features that made him the subject of countless romantic fantasies. His blonde hair framed his handsome face, and his eyes sparkled with mischief as he approached her.

"Lady Esmeray," he greeted, his voice smooth and inviting. "You look stunning as always. A vision in this sea of opulence."

Valencia's heart raced, the wine swirling in her veins. "Your Highness," she replied, her tone even, though her pulse quickened under his gaze. "I see you have not lost your penchant for flattery."

He laughed, a rich sound that drew her in. "And I see you have not lost your talent for deflection. But tell me, what keeps the illustrious Valencia Esmeray so engrossed in solitude?"

"Perhaps I prefer the company of my thoughts to the tedium of small talk," she replied, taking another sip of wine, her defenses slowly crumbling.

"Then perhaps I can entice you to dance?" He extended a hand, his smile disarming.

Valencia hesitated, the alcohol clouding her judgment, yet something about him was intoxicating. She took his hand, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor, where couples twirled and swayed under the chandeliers that glimmered like stars.

As they began to move together, she felt the world around them fade away. The music swirled, and for a moment, she was lost in the rhythm, caught in the magic of the dance. Ian's hand rested on her waist, and she felt a strange warmth spread through her, igniting something deep within.

"See? This isn't so bad, is it?" he said, leaning closer, his breath warm against her ear.

Valencia's heart raced as she leaned in, the wine clouding her senses. She lifted her face, searching his eyes, and in that moment, she misread his features. The intoxicating mix of emotion and alcohol led her to believe he was someone else-Cassian, the vampire who had once captured her heart in a different time, a different life.

"Cassian..." she murmured, her lips brushing against his in a fleeting kiss.

Prince Ian froze, his eyes widening with surprise, yet there was a spark of intrigue in his expression. Valencia pulled back, the realization crashing over her like icy water. She blinked, confusion swirling in her mind as she caught the look of astonishment on his face.

"I-" she began, her breath catching in her throat.

But the spell had been cast. The kiss lingered like a haunting melody, and in that moment, Valencia felt the weight of her own choices pressing down upon her. She had kissed the prince, mistaking him for a ghost from her past, and the consequences of her actions began to unfurl like dark tendrils of fate.

The evening had only just begun, and Valencia Esmeray, the immortal witch, was about to discover that the shadows of her past were not as easily left behind as she had hoped.