The red dress clung to my figure like a second skin, its deep crimson hue shimmering softly under the light. The luxurious fabric was smooth and cool against my skin, cascading effortlessly into a delicate train that followed my every step. Thin straps rested gently on my shoulders, framing the off-the-shoulder neckline that left my collarbones elegantly exposed.
I ran my gloved fingers over the dress, savoring its silken texture. The gloves, long and graceful, were not merely a fashion statement—they were a mask, concealing the fresh scars from thorns and my unkempt nails. The dress wasn’t just clothing; it was armor. Bold. Powerful. Perfect.
And now, here I was, standing before the grand house that once loomed over me as a servant. The same house where I’d scrubbed floors and prepared for extravagant parties I could only dream of attending. But tonight was different. I wasn’t here to serve. Tonight, I entered as a guest.
Beside me stood the Seventh Prince—the betrayer, the selfish one. He wasn’t my savior; he was my captor. I was here because of him, his arm extended toward me with a demand I couldn’t refuse. He wanted me to play along, to smile and pretend. His guard was up, but I waited. Patiently. For the right moment. One slip, one moment of vulnerability, and the blade hidden beneath my gown would find his heart.
For now, I placed my hand on his arm, feigning compliance, and we stepped inside.
The ballroom stole my breath. A sea of violet, pink, and white blooms decorated the vast space, their fragrance mingling with the soft hum of violins. Crystal chandeliers hung like cascading stars, scattering their glow across the polished marble floor. I had helped prepare many parties, but this one was unlike any other. Royals from across the realm were gathered, each adorned in the finest silks and jewels.
As I took it all in, I felt their eyes on me. Whispers followed.
“Is that a human?”
“He brought her? How plain.”
“An average human, no less.”
The mocking undertones struck, but I stood tall. Let them judge. This was my first and likely last royal gathering. Their words couldn’t touch me.
We reached the center of the ballroom, and the Seventh Prince let go of my arm, walking away without a word. I stood there, exposed, their laughter like knives in my back.
“A fool to think she’s his equal.”
“His bed slave, no doubt."
Anger bubbled beneath my skin, hot and unrelenting. I clenched my fists, forcing myself to stay calm. Suddenly, a cold touch traced my exposed back. A shiver ran through me as I turned, pushing the hand away.
Before me stood a man almost identical to the Seventh Prince—the same blood-red eyes, the same golden hair. But this man had a mole just beneath his lip, his smile wide and unsettling.
“Hello, my lady,” he said, his voice smooth yet chilling.
“I am the Third Prince.”
He grasped my hand, his fingers cold even through my gloves, and pressed a kiss to its back
.
“You are the loveliest in this room. I couldn’t resist introducing myself.”
I lowered my gaze in an attempt to show respect, unsure of the proper etiquette.
“May I have the honor of your first dance?” he asked, his smile both charming and predatory.
I knew from whispered gossip that rejecting a royal’s invitation to dance was considered treason. His politeness was a mere facade; refusal wasn’t an option.
“Yes,” I replied softly.
“It would be my pleasure.”
He led me to the center of the floor, his grip firm but unsettling. As we stood, I froze, unsure of what to do. He leaned in, his breath brushing my ear.
“Your hand, my lady—it belongs on my shoulder.”
“Oh, of course,” I stammered, placing my hand where it belonged.
“But I must warn you, I don’t know how to dance.”
He laughed, a sound too loud and grating.
“It doesn’t matter. No one will notice you when I’m here.”
His arrogance was suffocating.
“So,” he continued, his smile growing, “how does it feel?”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“To dance with me,” he said, his tone dripping with conceit.
“It’s an honor,” I replied, forcing myself to look away from his unnerving gaze.
His hand on my waist began to wander, his touch creeping toward my bare back. Disgust churned in my stomach as his eyes darkened with lust. He leaned closer, his breath hot against my ear.
“Choose me,” he whispered.
“What?”
“I can give you more than he ever could. Come to me, and I’ll make sure you’re...satisfied every night.”
Rage exploded within me. My hands itched to shove him away, to scream at his audacity. But before I could act, a powerful hand gripped the Third Prince’s wrist.
In the next moment, he was on the floor, the force of a punch sending him sprawling.
YOU ARE READING
Enthrallment : The Twisted Trust
Fantasy" please don't " He pleaded, his voice cracking with despair. Tears streamed down his face as he dropped to his knees, clutching at the air as if trying to grasp the fleeting fragments of her presence. ...
