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Chapter 33

Chapter 33: The Dance with Two Ladies
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Elia Martell POV

The hall was alive with music and laughter, the scents of spiced wine and perfume mingling in the air. Lords and ladies moved gracefully across the dance floor, their gowns and doublets a swirl of vibrant colors that flowed with the music.

My mother, radiant in her gown of Martell oranges and golds, danced, her smile warm and inviting as she turned with her partner.

I had already danced with several lords and noble sons—some eager, some charming—but none had captured my interest for more than a moment.

Now, I found myself at the edge of the hall, waving away the offers that still trickled in. A polite smile remained on my lips.

My gaze wandered, no longer held by the flashing colors and movement of the dance floor.

Across the hall, my brother Oberyn was surrounded by his usual group of friends. Their laughter rose above the music, carefree and unrestrained.

It was hard not to smile at the sight—Oberyn had that rare ability to make any room feel alive with his presence, and tonight was no exception.

Yet, I noticed the slight unsteadiness in his movements, the hint of a stumble that told me he'd had a bit too much to drink.

Sitting with him were two golden-haired men, one of whom I recognized as the brother of the Lord Paramount.

The other was Galahad, the newly knighted squire who had become a familiar face over the past moon. When I first met Galahad, I'd been wary, intrigued by his quiet demeanor and the way he always seemed to blend into the background.

But as time passed, we had become friends, and I had come to appreciate the little ways he showed he cared—always ready with a handkerchief, a sweet cake, or a gentle word to lift the mood.

He had a talent for making even the simplest moments feel lighter, and I couldn't deny the warmth that thought brought me.

He had surprised me with other talents too—singing, cooking, even sewing. At first, I had laughed, finding his skills amusingly out of place.

But when he spoke of his past, of surviving alone on the streets, my amusement faded, replaced by a quiet respect. He had lived a life far removed from the one I knew, and it made me see him in a new light.

Beside him sat Prince Rhaegar, his silver hair catching the glow of the chandeliers, making him seem almost otherworldly. There was a quiet grace to him, an ease that set him apart even among a room full of nobles.

When he had arrived a few days ago, my mother's eyes had lit with ambition. She had envisioned him as a potential suitor for me.

I understood what my mother wanted, what she expected of me. Rhaegar was handsome, princely, a future king in all but name. It was the kind of opportunity most would leap at without hesitation.

But as I watched him, I felt no such urgency. I didn't know him—not truly. Yes, he was striking, yes, he carried himself with a quiet dignity, but I had yet to see the man behind the prince. I wanted to watch, to listen, to understand who he was before I made any decisions.

With that thought, my mind was made up. If my mother had her way, there would be time enough to speak to Rhaegar.

Tonight, I would go where I felt comfortable, where the laughter was familiar, where Galahad's quiet smile and Oberyn's boisterous laughter called to me.

I smoothed the folds of my dress, a familiar motion that steadied me, and took a deep breath. Not out of nerves, but anticipation.

Then, with a small, determined smile, I rose from my seat and crossed the hall, weaving my way through the throng of dancers. My path was clear, and I made my way to where my brother's group stood, my steps unhurried, my heart lighter with each one.