Penelope’s breath misted in the air as she stepped out onto a crescent court of black marble tiles, making room for the Sisters to follow behind her.

She turned as the carriage door was closed and the attendants returned to their stations by the rear wheels.

All six riders at the head of the entourage dismounted, moving to surround Penelope and the Sisters. Without delay, waiting stablehands climbed up into the empty saddles. Moments later the entourage was moving again, circling away around the drive.

The banner guards took position at the front, facing towards the stairs, swiftly followed by Callum and Marni.

“Do you have your invitation token, Princess?” Callum asked. Penelope nodded and rummaged in her purse, handing over the coin of smooth obsidian. Callum passed the token to the herald guard and Penelope tucked the purse into the pocket of her gown, nervously smoothing down the folds of her cloak.

With a final wink and cheeky smile from Callum, all playful demeanour was gone, replaced by impassive faces and squared stances.

The remaining two Rangers took position behind the Sisters where they flanked Penelope a half step behind.

Penelope had only a moment to collect herself, breathing through the exhilaration at being escorted into a royal ball by a true royal guard, before the banner guards began to climb the stairs with clipped, efficient steps, standards held high. Penelope hastened to keep pace with the Rangers ahead of her.

A swift glance over her shoulder showed a distant line of carriages approaching the end of the drive, staggered at even intervals. Penelope wondered who they were. A sharp poke at her side from Sister Heely prompted Penelope to remember her etiquette as she turned to face the front.

She lifted her chin and straightened her shoulders, working to keep her breaths slow and deep as she clutched her skirts in a delicate grip to keep from stumbling. Her skin felt numb with both nerves and the winter chill as they crested the lip of the staircase.

“Presenting Princess Penelope of Royal House Starwood and her honourable companions, Sister Rosin of Noble House Devier and Sister Heely of Noble House Fellworth.”

The herald passed the invitation token to the door guards.

As the guards inspected the token, Penelope risked another glance over her shoulder, peering around the Sisters and the rear Rangers. Her breath hitched at the sight.

The sky was livid with pinks and oranges. Hazy banks of purple clouds scudded across the sky, tinged with brilliant gold.

Below, Penelope glimpsed the pattern of the garden’s pathways, branching lines of severe symmetry softened by the wild sprawl of ferns and the fluttering glow of insects. A haven of fragile greenery contained within the brutal geometry of the Fort’s outer walls. Out of sight, beyond the black stone, Penelope could hear the distant and ever-present thunder of the Great Fall.

As she watched, a carriage of polished cobalt wood approached the end of the drive. Before it pulled to a halt, a guard cleared their throat and Penelope spun her attention to the doors as they were motioned to enter.

Their steps echoed from the glassy marble as they moved further into the room. Penelope turned in a slow circle to take it all in.

The receiving hall was cavernous, a tall six-sided room with a domed ceiling of intricately wrought bronze. Suspended from its pinnacle was an enormous chandelier, a cascade of tinkling crystal which descended through the centre of the chamber.

The chained shards spilled like a waterfall past two levels of narrow balconies which encircled the chamber’s walls. The final fist-sized stone came to rest just shy of tall silver flames licking upwards from a pit hollowed into the floor.

The roughly faceted crystals seemed to capture the firelight, wicking it in like water until the stones flickered like stars. The glow illuminated tall walls adorned with portraits, tapestries depicting past battles, ceremonially displayed weapons, and tall cases of armour.

Beyond the pit of silver flames, the rear half of the chamber was occupied by a curved double staircase leading up to the first balcony.

Penelope squinted as a shadow moved behind the flames.

“Welcome guests,” a melodious voice sounded, causing Penelope and the Sisters to jump.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The voice laughed, a warm and welcoming sound, as a woman dressed in a long, slim-fitting gown of black sequins emerged, circling the fire to stand before them. “My apologies, I did not intend to startle. Welcome home, Rangers.”

The guards inclined their heads in greeting.

The woman was familiar, and it took a moment for Penelope to place her. “Selena?”

Selena smiled, her lips painted wine-red and her eyes smoky with bronze glitter. The Sisters gasped as they, too, recognised the woman from the invitation’s dreamscape.

“In the flesh.” Selena’s smile widened. “If you would please allow me, I am here to guide you to your receiving lounges, where you shall spend a brief, and hopefully comfortable, wait before the Dark Moon Ball commences.

“Princess Penelope, as eligible Scion of Royal House Starwood, your receiving lounge awaits upstairs. If you and your guard would please make your way up the staircase and enter the door at the landing.

“Sister Heely of Noble House Fellworth and Sister Rosin of Noble House Devier, as companions and honoured guests, please make way to your receiving lounge through the door behind the staircase.”

Bidding them to follow, Selena turned on her heel and circled behind the fire once more, the scale-like sequins of her dress glittering in the silver light.

As the group stepped around the flames, the two Rangers in the rear peeled away, beckoning the Sisters towards the rear wall, while the guards ahead of Penelope made towards one end of the staircase.

Penelope felt a sharp moment of panic at the separation, mirrored in the Sisters’ wide eyes and paled faces. Noticing their hesitation, the guards paused, patiently waiting by the foot of the stairs.

Penelope stepped towards Sisters and clasped each of their hands, floundering for what to say. Though they were attending the same ball, would soon stand in the same room once again, this moment felt too much like goodbye. So much would change on the other side of those doors. There was nothing to say, everything to say—

“Breathe, duckling,” Sister Rosin whispered and Penelope huffed through a weak smile. “We’ll see you in just a blink.” The Sisters each pecked a quick kiss to her cheeks, squeezing her hands tight before stepping back again.

She gave a nod and a small wave to the Sisters as they were ushered through a set of dark wooden doors behind the stairs. With a shaky breath, Penelope steeled herself and continued towards her waiting guards. She clasped her hands together to settle their trembling, but her heart continued to race.

Callum offered a sympathetic wink as he and Marni moved behind her, positioning themselves as rear guards. The small gesture of comfort brought a lump to her throat and she swallowed down the sudden urge to cry.

After a short climb, they levelled out onto the landing where an attendant waited to open another set of doors, set directly above those the Sisters had vanished through.

Without a word, Penelope and her guards were ushered into to a semi-circular room walled in rich green velvet.

Without warning, the front guards spun on their heel and offered deep bows, hands fisted in respectful salute across their chests.

“Princess Penelope of Royal House Starwood, it has been our honour to escort you to the seat and home of Royal House Grimwood.”

Penelope drew a breath and willed her voice steady. “Thank you, esteemed escorts of Royal House Grimwood, you honour Royal House Starwood with your service.”

Without further exchange, the Rangers strode towards the opposite side of the room, disappearing through the wall which appeared to be a heavy drape.

As they passed through the curtain into the room beyond, Penelope caught a fleeting glimpse of a large, warmly lit ballroom before the drapes fell back into place, leaving only a narrow gap of light between them.

Standing alone by the door, Penelope gazed anxiously around the dimly lit space. The room was filled with several dozen others, royal guests dressed in a breathtaking array of opulent gowns, suits, robes, and tunics.

Some gowns flared outwards like spun flowers, while others hugged tight to figures like scaled skin. Some robes sharpened the line of shoulders before flaring into long trains of silk and gemstones, while others were styled into the forms of mythic creatures, with wings and fins and gossamer webbing beaded with jewels that chimed with each movement.

Hair fell in silken sheets, or clouded faces in airy curls, or else sat coiled in ornate braids that defied the pull of gravity. Faces were painted in animal visages to match costumes, or else to highlight the perfection of features with flawless polish.

Despite her nerves, Penelope marvelled at the sight before her, the hushed room like a rockpool filled to brimming with unearthly elegance.

After the Rangers had moved beyond sight, all eyes turned her way.

Penelope froze for a breathless moment, feeling so much like her younger self dressed in rough fabrics, her pockets filled with moss and stones, anticipating the inevitable scorn of her peers.

She barely noticed as another attendant helped free her cloak and took it away, revealing her gown. The flowers of her dress blushed gold and pale pink under the scrutiny, petals unfurling to their fullest as the river stones of her gown glimmered in their self-made light.

Penelope’s shoulders began to relax as she realised the smiles turned her way were appreciative, soft and without the edge of scorn or mockery.

Penelope released her breath and kept her steps small as she moved deeper into the room, small groups of guests parting for her like schools of fish.

She saw the curiosity in their eyes at her arrival and Penelope felt the thrill of their attention shiver up her spine.

To mask her nerves, she stepped with purpose, circling towards the curtain to project a sense of confidence she did not quite feel.

Were her parents just beyond the drapes? Was Steph? A glance around the room revealed the presence of neither.

Idly, Penelope accepted a small flute of pearlescent liquid from a passing attendant and took a sip. It tasted of honey and citrus with floral notes that fizzed on her tongue. She held its crystal stem in one hand while twirling the stem of her honeybelle in the other.

“Well, well,” purred a cruel voice from behind, interrupting her passage. “The princess of the deep woods returns with a crown of daisies.”