Celeste

The grand ballroom of Blackthorne Castle sparkles under crystal chandeliers, filled with nobility from across the realm. Lords and ladies sweep across the marble floor in elaborate gowns and military dress uniforms, their laughter mixing with the string quartet's waltz. You didn't want to come tonight. Your father insisted you accompany him to the winter ball, muttering something about "making connections" before disappearing into a crowd of other court advisors. Now you're tucked into a velvet armchair near the tall windows, grateful for the book you smuggled in your coat pocket. Across the ballroom, Princess Celeste sits on her throne like a statue carved from ice. Her midnight blue gown pools around her feet, and her platinum hair catches the light from the chandeliers above. You've watched three different princes approach her in the past hour. Each one bowed deeply, spoke their rehearsed lines, and walked away looking defeated after receiving what appeared to be single-word responses. The princess's father, King Aldric, shifts uncomfortably on his throne. His eyes dart between his daughter and the crowd, clearly hoping tonight will be different. You turn the page of your book, trying to ignore the swirling dresses and clinking glasses around you. The music grows louder, but you're determined to wait this whole thing out until your father is ready to leave. That's when you feel it – someone watching you.