Chapter 63
Crown Prince Ilya was a handsome man, with black hair inherited from his mother and brown eyes from his father.
Wearing the ceremonial uniform of Lairafle’s tradition and the medal of Tritan pinned to his chest, he strode confidently down the red carpet. The diplomatic envoy followed behind him in silence.
With an imposing air, Ilya stopped squarely at the base of the platform.
“I am Ilya, Crown Prince of Lairafle. I greet His Imperial Majesty, Emperor of the great Tritan Empire, and Her Majesty the Empress, on behalf of Lairafle.”
“Welcome, Crown Prince. Our kingdom and this empire share a long bond, and so your visit is greatly welcomed.”
Seated upon the throne, Zifreine spread his arms, showing his delight. Ilya smiled politely and bowed his head.
“Crown Prince, I hope that the welcome banquet prepared here in Tritan will please you.”
Cecilia spoke in an elegant, refined tone, a graceful smile blooming at her lips.
“With such warm hospitality, I hardly know what to do. I will take care not to bring shame upon my parents or my homeland, Lairafle.”
Ilya spoke fluently, with a charming smile that lingered.
“How thoughtful you are. We will also see to it that you feel no discomfort during your stay.”
Cecilia gazed down at him with great satisfaction and warmth.
“The nobles of Beirn have gathered eagerly to greet you. So, Crown Prince, enjoy this banquet to your heart’s content.”
At Zifreine’s words, the banquet, briefly paused, resumed again.
The orchestra changed its tune, and nobles began to scatter freely.
Were it not for the peculiar atmosphere surrounding Crown Prince Ilya and the young ladies waiting for his invitation to dance, it would have been a typical imperial ball.
Eleanor was surprised that the man at the center of all the rumors seemed rather normal.
Still, not wanting to catch his eye and risk being chosen as a bride candidate, she melted into the background with Stella as soon as the banquet began.
Daniel, trailing behind his fiancée, joined them as fellow wallflowers.
“The bundles of desire are starting to move.”
Stella’s sharp gaze caught the young ladies already on the prowl.
As Stella pointed them out, Eleanor watched the ladies carefully yet eagerly gather around the Crown Prince.
Among them, she spotted Lena Grace—the same girl she’d seen at Sapino’s jewel shop a few days ago.
Perhaps because she had been turned away from Sapino without buying anything, Lena’s attire was plain compared to usual. But she wore it as an advantage, smiling with a shy, innocent expression.
It was indeed better than gaudy ornaments, and Eleanor silently applauded her strategy.
“So, they all want to be Crown Princess?”
Eleanor muttered, unable to understand such ambition since she herself never wanted to leave Tritan.
“If one’s position in the family is uncertain, becoming the consort of a crown prince isn’t bad.”
Stella, daughter of the Marquis of Maxill, gave a cool assessment. She herself was the youngest, with an ambiguous standing in her family.
If not for her doting brothers—and her own talents—she might never have had the chance to serve the family’s trading guild.
Recalling how Lena Grace had lost the position of successor to her sister Melinda, Eleanor felt a bit more understanding.
It’s a survival strategy.
The Stikov family, Eleanor’s house, was better organized in dividing heirs, so she never had such worries.
Although, when Lydia married one of the male leads in the future, succession would surely stir up waves again.
For now, though, it all seemed peaceful enough.
Where is Lydia?
Watching the Crown Prince deftly ignore the young ladies crowding him, Eleanor searched for her younger sister. The prince would most likely ask Lydia to dance the moment he saw her.
With Leopold still by their parents, the other male leads should be protecting her.
“Sis!”
Just as Eleanor was looking for Ernst, Vincent, or Sinclair, Lydia’s cheerful call reached her ears.
Turning her head, Eleanor saw Lydia walking toward her, smiling brightly—alone.
Where were her guardians?
“Lydia, why are you alone?”
“I told them I was going to see you, so I came.”
Lydia replied innocently. Eleanor glanced anxiously at the prince to make sure Lydia hadn’t been noticed yet, then went to meet her.
Happy to see her sister, Lydia soon spotted Stella and Daniel behind Eleanor.
“It’s been a while, Lady Maxill. Young Lord Klein.”
Though she was a friend’s younger sister and Eleanor’s sister, Lydia and Stella kept their distance.
Stella wasn’t part of the heroine’s circle, and she disliked Lydia for making Eleanor’s life troublesome.
Even warm, sunny Lydia respected the boundary Stella had drawn.
“Yes, it has been a while, Lady Stikov.”
“A pleasure, Lady Stikov.”
Every time Eleanor’s acquaintances addressed Lydia as “Lady Stikov,” Eleanor felt strange. That title usually belonged to her when she stood beside her sister.
Thanks to Daniel’s mild, balancing presence, the conversation among the three was calm and courteous.
After the formal greetings, Eleanor spoke up.
“Lydia, wouldn’t it be better to stay with Ernst, your partner?”
Not wanting her sister to cause unnecessary stir with the foreign Crown Prince, Eleanor subtly tried to keep Ernst by Lydia’s side.
“Maybe you’re right.”
Lydia nodded thoughtfully.
“Then I’ll come back with Ernst. Oh, and Sinclair was looking for you, sis—I’ll bring him too.”
No—that was a problem. Eleanor quickly grabbed Lydia’s arm.
Her little sister turned with a questioning look, and Eleanor racked her brain to somehow hint that she should leave Sinclair behind.
How do I say it indirectly without giving myself away?
While she fretted, Stella poked her sharply in the side.
Startled, Eleanor finally reacted.
“What is it…?”
“The Crown Prince is coming this way.”
Stella whispered swiftly, barely moving her lips.
There was no time to admire her ventriloquism, because Ilya really was heading straight for them.
Forget Sinclair—just bring anyone at this point.
If the Crown Prince got involved with Stikov, Eleanor couldn’t escape the fallout either.
“Lydia, go fetch Ernst—or Sinclair, anyone.”
“Eh? Sis, what’s wrong? Why so urgent all of a sudden? Did something happen?”
As Eleanor gently pushed her away, Lydia only bombarded her with questions instead of leaving.
Meanwhile, Ilya drew ever closer.
“Quickly—bring Ernst or Sinclair. One of them, at least.”
“Why? Okay, fine, but—wait a sec, sis.”
Lydia held Eleanor’s hand softly, smiling brightly, still oblivious to the tension.
“Can I bring Vincent too?”
Eleanor nearly groaned. She needed Leopold, not Vincent!
If she’s going to be like this, fine. I’ll fetch them myself once she’s stuck dancing with the Crown Prince. Or maybe they’ll see and rush over.
At least when the ball ended, Eleanor could quietly return to Oklama and leave all this behind. No loyalty, but what great life was an extra supposed to live anyway?
Just as she let go of her worries, Ilya arrived before them.
“Good evening, young ladies.”
He spoke with a smile that was gentlemanly on the surface—but the way he drawled “young ladies” made Eleanor want to grimace.
They were noble ladies, yes, but no one addressed them in such a coarse manner.
And Daniel, standing right there, wasn’t even acknowledged.
“I am Ilya, Crown Prince of Lairafle.”
Ilya was neither particularly youthful nor aged—an ordinary thirty-one-year-old man. But most of those he addressed were barely twenty-one, making him seem more like an uncle.
“Among you, I would like to politely ask for the honor of my first dance.”
Instinctively, Stella and Daniel turned to the Stikov sisters—the only unmarried women here without fiancés.
Eleanor steeled herself and stepped slightly back. If the Crown Prince asked Lydia, she would seize the chance to fetch Ernst.
Ilya extended his hand. Eleanor stepped back again, not wanting to obstruct Lydia’s moment.
But the more she withdrew, the more his hand reached toward her.
…No way.
A dreadful realization struck Eleanor. She flicked her gaze to Stella, who looked equally shocked.
Am I really… the one getting chosen here?
The very situation she had dreaded—the Crown Prince’s selection—was happening.
Her eyes darted desperately, taking in Lydia’s dazed face, Ernst and Sinclair hurrying toward her, and finally Leopold below the dais, watching with a frozen, icy expression.
You’d better secure another partner, he had warned.
And she hadn’t listened. Now she regretted it bitterly.
Instead of being known as the first lady chosen by the Crown Prince, she could have been the one who had found a new partner.
“It seems you have no partner. May I have this dance, my lady?”
With a smile that was both gallant and cloying, Ilya extended his hand again.
For one second, Eleanor’s life flashed before her eyes. Refusing here would only spell disaster. Forcing a smile, she placed her reluctant hand in his.
“It is an honor, Your Highness.”
As Ilya led her to the center of the ballroom, whispers rose around them. Eleanor resigned herself to not reading the next day’s papers.
Right now, she only wanted to cry.
The orchestra switched to a sweet tune as they began to dance. Eleanor held onto his hand, bracing herself.
“I would like to know the name of our lovely lady.”
His voice purred in her ear, making goosebumps rise along her arm. She would have preferred an hour of Vincent’s rough tone over this.
Who knew she’d ever long for Vincent?
Carefully keeping a polite smile, she answered:
“I am Eleanor Stikov of the Stikov County family, heir to Baron Pomfury’s line.”
It was a subtle way of saying she had no intention of marrying him.
But Ilya ignored the latter half, murmuring, “Eleanor, Eleanor… even the name is beautiful.”
This is worse than I thought.
Eleanor had no intention of becoming a foreign Crown Princess, leaving Tritan, or marrying a man ten years her senior.
If she had wanted that, she wouldn’t have gone down to Oklama. She would have stayed in Beirn, scraped up some groom, and married already.
Just thinking of losing her hard-won title of baroness made her sick.
…No, it’s just the first dance. Don’t panic.
Clinging to reason, Eleanor tried to calm herself.
But then Ilya leaned close, whispering,
“You carry such a sweet fragrance. It suits a flower-like lady such as yourself.”
Her fragile reassurance shattered instantly. Eleanor had to fight the violent urge to fling away his hand.
Three minutes felt like three hours. By the time the dance ended, her soul was about to flee her body.
“It was an utterly enchanting dance, my lady.”
Now he was calling her “my lady.” Eleanor’s smile dried up, brittle and hollow.
“It was an honor, Your Highness. With deepest thanks, I shall take my leave.”
She planned to excuse herself as unwell and slip out of the ball.
“But to share only one dance with such beauty is too regretful. How about another?”
Ilya bared his teeth in a bright smile, holding his hand out again.
Eleanor seriously considered fainting on the spot. Another dance with this insufferably oily prince, and she might truly pass out.
But of course, she couldn’t. With tears pricking her eyes, she was about to place her hand in his once more when—
“My apologies, Crown Prince.”
A familiar hand gently clasped hers.
“Lady Stikov’s second dance is already promised to me.”
Leopold—his hair swept back tonight—stepped between them.
