Trumpeted fanfare quieted all conversation, causing all eyes to turn to the entrance, where Marcus stepped forward, and with a dignified yell, introduced the trio, “Announcing the arrival or the King Augustus Pellyn, Guest of Honor, Logan Rake, and Successor to the throne, Lady Miranda Pellyn!”

Logan and the king entered first side by side. Logan was wearing what seemed to be his old guard uniform, a pair of black slacks underneath a wool sapphire coat adorned with numerous medals of battles long past. Next to him, Cameron’s father strolled inside, his kingly robes trailing far behind him as the jewelry adorning his person glistened in the light. They walked confidently, neither breaking their stride or looking anywhere other than forward. Decades of tradition and decorum had trained them well. They made their way to the center of the room where they separated. They each walked the perimeter of the dance floor, coming to a stop just in front of the throne where they kept space enough apart for the last guest.

Miranda entered the ballroom with the same quiet elegance she always carried herself with. She practically glided across the floor, clad in a dignified silver gown. Her hair was straightened and pushed behind her ears. Her pale face and blue eyes looked upon the crowd of people as she walked. Her people. Cameron could see in their faces how they viewed her. The respect they held for her. The love. The hope for a bright future. He felt emotion well in his chest as he watched her. Pride in his sister. She was in her element and she played her role perfectly.

Miranda slowed as she approached Logan and the King. They parted a little more, slipping a hand through the crooks of each of her arms as they escorted her up the alabaster steps. In one smooth motion, they spun her around, where she took her seat upon the throne. Then, in a move that was uncharacteristically informal for him, Cameron watched as his father kissed his sister on the forehead before he and Logan faded into the background, leaving Miranda staring out across a sea of her subjects. She offered a sweet smile before clearing her throat, ready to address the nation for the first time.

“It may be a little premature, seeing as the coronation tomorrow, but as your future queen, I’m ordering you to drain your glasses, and get this party started in earnest.”

Sybil had already had Cameron by the arm, dragging him to the dance floor before he could even hope to protest.

***

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Cameron couldn’t remember the last time he felt nervous with a woman, but dancing with Sybil brought back those butterflies in his stomach he thought were long gone. The pair had been dancing uninterrupted for the past half hour, gliding through the ballroom without a care in the world. He smiled as he felt her lean into him with every passing moment, culminating into a slow swaying waltz to the sound of a soft romantic melody.

“I got to give credit where it’s due,” Sybil whispered conspiratorially in his ear, her lips teasing his earlobe with every syllable. “You backwater people sure know how to throw a party.”

“We’ve managed to master the art of drunken revelry over the years, that’s for sure.” Cameron responded with a giggle. He pulled back to look at her, gazing into those beautiful emerald eyes that seemed to draw him in deeper with every second he spent gazing on them. He leaned in slowly, feeling the butterflies in his stomach burst into a frenzy as he realized she was doing the same. He closed his eyes anticipating the moment their lips would meet… He was answered not with a kiss, but a sharp clearing of the throat coming behind him.

He opened his eyes, feeling a familiar twitch as he sighed and turned. Standing there before him was the human embodiment of a weasel, as Wervil Darwin met his gaze, a cheeky grin creeping across his thin lips.

“Good evening, Prince Pellyn,” He begin, speaking in a dignified tone while going into a low sweeping bow, “And to you as well Ambassador Moore. Might I say you look a vision.”

“Why thank Wervil,” Sybil said, giving a nod in response. “You look rather… Dignified yourself.” She wave a hand in his direction, motioning towards his ornate purple robe, draped in multicolored silks and held down by a litany of loose jewels.

“You flatter me, my dear,” Darwin guffawed with a wheezy high pitched chuckle. “To hear such kind words, leave such sweet lips does good to an old man’s heart.”

Cameron felt the butterflies in his stomach melt into a bubbling bowl of irritability as he greeted them with what could only be described as barely concealed hostility.

“You have… amazing timing, Darwin,” Cameron said through clenched teeth.

Darwin blinked, looking between Cameron and Sybil, before his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “O-Oh my, I can see I’ve interrupted a rather… intimate moment,” He said, finishing with a forced cough.

“Yes, you have,” Cameron growled. “Now what do you want?”

Darwin sputtered for a moment, before finding his reason. “Yes, well… I was hoping to speak to you, your lordship. Privately if you’d grace me so.”

Cameron rolled his eyes, watching the man bow again, before turning to Sybil with an apologetic look on his face.

“Can you excuse me for just a moment?”

She pouted for a moment, before flashing him a grin and a wink. “I get it, go handle your business, just don’t make me wait too long yeah?” She asked, trailing a finger down his chest, before taking her leave, leaving the two men standing in an awkward silence.

“So…” Cameron said, looking at the diplomat with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up?”