Valencia Esmeray

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 - II : The Escape

The grand ballroom sparkled with golden light, the glittering chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings reflecting the glow of a thousand candles. Music flowed through the air, accompanied by the soft hum of conversation, laughter, and the occasional clink of wine glasses. Nobles dressed in the finest silks and velvets twirled across the polished floor, their jewels gleaming under the warm lights.

It was the prince's birthday, a royal affair that demanded the presence of every prominent figure in the kingdom. And standing among them, radiating beauty in a gown of deep velvet, was Valencia Esmeray. Her raven-black hair, artfully arranged to fall in loose curls, framed her pale face, and her sharp eyes glittered like two dark stars in the crowd. She held her glass of wine with a practiced elegance, but her thoughts were far from the festivities.

Tonight, it wasn't the grand celebration or the wealth surrounding her that filled her mind. No-it was the ghost of a man she could never forget. Cassian.

As the party swirled around her, she drained her wine glass, her mind hazy from the alcohol. But it wasn't enough. Nothing could numb the ache in her heart. She turned, hoping to slip away for a moment, away from the chatter and forced smiles, when she felt a presence behind her. A hand brushed her arm, and before she could react, she found herself face-to-face with the prince himself-Prince Ian. His blonde hair and sharp features caught her by surprise, and in her drunken state, she saw someone else in him. Cassian.

Without thinking, without hesitation, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

The room seemed to stop. For a heartbeat, the music, the laughter, the party-all of it faded into nothing. It was just her and him, and for that brief, stolen moment, it was Cassian she was kissing, not the prince.

But reality crashed down on her the second their lips parted. Ian's surprised expression was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his touch. His blue eyes blinked in confusion, and it was then that Valencia realized her mistake. This was no ghost, no lost lover brought back to life in a drunken dream. This was Ian, a prince of the royal family, and she had kissed him in front of everyone.

A wave of heat flushed her cheeks as the weight of her error settled into her chest. She didn't wait for Ian to speak. She didn't wait for the crowd to react. Valencia turned on her heel, heart racing, and fled the ballroom.

The whispers began the moment she left, soft and venomous, swirling behind her like shadows. She could feel their judgment like a noose tightening around her neck. The nobles, the lords, the ladies-they had all seen her. They had all witnessed her foolish, drunken mistake.

Outside, the cool night air slapped her face like an icy reminder of her humiliation. She stumbled down the steps of the palace, her breath shallow and her vision swimming. Her heart pounded in her chest, each beat louder than the one before, as if trying to drown out the embarrassment that consumed her.

Her car, a sleek, dark vehicle, was waiting near the courtyard, its engine quietly humming as her driver leaned against the door. He looked up when he saw her approach, his brow furrowing in concern.

"Miss Esmeray," he began cautiously, stepping forward as she neared, "is everything alright?"

Valencia waved her hand dismissively, her voice thick with drink. "I... I'm fine," she slurred, barely holding herself upright. The world seemed to tilt around her, but she refused to acknowledge it. "Just-just get me out of here. Drive me home."

The driver, a man who had served her for years, hesitated for a moment, his gaze sweeping over her disheveled appearance. "Miss, are you sure-?"

"I said drive!" Her voice rose, sharper than intended, but the edge of desperation in her tone silenced any further questioning.

With a quiet nod, he opened the car door for her, helping her inside before closing it gently. Valencia sank into the plush leather seat, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to steady her breathing. The shame was unbearable. Her skin crawled with the memory of the prince's eyes, the gasps from the nobles, and the sickening realization of what she had done.

As the car began to move, the palace disappeared into the night, but the weight of what had happened clung to her like a second skin. She closed her eyes, her head resting against the window as the world outside passed in a blur. The streets were dark, lit only by the faint glow of the moon and the occasional flicker of streetlights. But none of it mattered to her.

Her thoughts drifted, slowly, inevitably, back to Cassian.

She had loved him once. Truly loved him. He was the one person who had seen past the masks she wore, who understood the darkness that lurked beneath her polished exterior. But Cassian was dead. His life had been taken from her, cruelly ripped away, and no matter how hard she tried, Valencia couldn't let go of the man who had once been everything to her.

By the time the car arrived at her estate, she had sunk deeper into the fog of wine and grief. The sprawling mansion loomed ahead, its shadowed windows like the hollow eyes of a forgotten giant. The driver stopped, exiting the car to help her out, but Valencia barely acknowledged him. She stumbled up the steps, her heels clicking unevenly against the stone, and pushed the door open with more force than necessary.

Inside, the familiar cold of the grand hall greeted her. Her estate, once vibrant and filled with life, now felt like a mausoleum. The high ceilings echoed with silence, and the only light came from the dim chandeliers that hung above, casting long, eerie shadows across the floor.

Without thinking, without care, she made her way to the parlor, where a decanter of wine awaited her on the side table. She poured herself a glass, her hands shaking slightly, and drank deeply, hoping the alcohol would drown out the ache in her chest.

But it didn't.

The emptiness still lingered, gnawing at her insides. Her heart ached, her thoughts swirling in confusion and pain. The kiss. The prince. The mistake. And above it all, Cassian's memory haunted her like a ghost.

She set the empty glass down with a sharp clink and turned towards the stairs. She knew where she was going. The alcohol had numbed her enough, giving her the courage to face what lay above her. Slowly, she climbed the grand staircase, her fingers trailing along the banister as she ascended to the upper floors.

At the end of the hallway was a door she hadn't opened in weeks. A door that led to a place she had avoided, because every time she entered, the memories were too much to bear.

The attic.

The door creaked as she pushed it open, the air inside thick with dust and stillness. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of moonlight filtering in through a small window. And in the center of it all, like the centerpiece of her sorrow, lay the coffin.

Cassian's coffin.

It was old and covered in a layer of dust, a somber reminder of the man she had lost. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest as she approached it, her steps slow and deliberate. She knelt beside it, her fingers tracing the edges of the wood, her mind spinning with memories.

"I thought you were him," she whispered, her voice breaking. "For a moment, I thought-" She stopped, her throat tightening as tears welled in her eyes. She rested her forehead against the cold surface of the coffin, the wood solid beneath her touch. "I'll bring you back, Cassian," she murmured, her words slurred with both alcohol and grief. "I don't care how... I'll find a way."

Her vision blurred, the room spinning as exhaustion pulled at her. The wine had taken its toll, dulling her senses, and soon, the world around her faded. Valencia collapsed against the coffin, her body sinking to the floor as sleep overtook her.

The last thing she saw before the darkness consumed her was the name etched into the coffin's surface-Cassian.