She took two deep breaths. It was helpful to concentrate the flow of air from the outside to the inside, making it flow along the body. It had never been easy for Aria and she hated being in that situation. The first few times she had even fainted, but by now she had become so used to it that she only lived it with contempt. She held out her arms to help the success, this time maintaining a more delicate breathing so as not to succumb to anxiety. There was a tear. The corset was perfectly fastened.

“Up until last year, you would have screamed.” the older woman exclaimed with a smile.

“I know, Madame Doroteya, but I’m not a child anymore. I’m sixteen!” a small snort from the younger one, almost annoyed by those words addressed to her.

This time, the girl folded her arms. If it had been up to her, she would have banned any form of makeup. She didn’t understand what it was that men found so attractive, not to mention all the hours that were wasted getting ready.

She then stood with her arms outstretched to help the woman finish her work.

“Now the dress.”

Aria nodded.

She raised her arms to slide the bright white dress, with gold and silver embroidery, down her body to her feet. The buttons were snapped and the strings attached to the skirt. A final tug made her waist feel tight as a toothpick.

“I can’t breathe,” she complained.

“Come on, my dear, a dress won’t kill you…” the governess then took Aria’s arm to drag her in front of the mirror.

There, the two women could see a beautiful girl, lightly made up and dressed in elegant clothes. The last two accessories were a white wig to hide her golden hair and black gloves that she had specially chosen.

“I hate balls!” she exclaimed, putting them on.

“This is not just a ball.” Madame Doroteya scolded her, taking a brush to brush her wig, “The most important nobles of the city will attend this banquet and even the prince will be there.” the governess pirouetted, “I wonder what a handsome boy he must be… how jealous I am.”

“Not me. I have never seen the prince and I couldn’t care less about him.”

The governess hit Aria’s cheek with her open hand, making her blush.

“Don’t you dare insult the prince. Oh, if only your father had heard you… what do I have to do… you’re always the same.”

Taking some makeup, she tried to cover the mark she had left on her as best she could.

“The fact is, I don’t want to attend. I’m bored, and you know it. Dancing isn’t my thing and I’m not even good at it. All those people make me anxious and fake smiles aren’t my thing.” she complained again.

“Come on, so much controversy. Go over there and have fun.”

The housekeeper began to use a can of perfume, which she continued to press until it was finished. The bedroom filled with a delicious orange smell, Aria's favorite, which however made the two women start to cough, so much so that the eldest had to open the window.

"I'm done. You're perfect, my dear, now you can go down to meet your father." taking her arm, this time she dragged her forcefully toward the door.

"Thank you, if you weren't here I wouldn't know what to do."

"That's what I get paid for."

Aria then left the room. The corridor ran along the east side of the building, with closed doors to other rooms on the left and windows to the right, where you could get lost in the panoramic view of the city. It was night, so you could see little or nothing but, glancing at the garden, she could see a couple of policemen with lanterns in their hands who were doing patrols.

Usually, only one policeman remained in front of the entrance gate to act as a guard, it happened like this in all the noble palaces. The municipality sent them directly in exchange for a small fee to cover food and general maintenance costs.

That evening, however, the palace was full of police and, if on one hand Aria felt protected, on the other she felt a sense of oppression that made her anxiety rise.

Nothing, however, that she didn’t solve with two deep breaths, while she went down the stairs where she found her father’s stern gaze waiting for her.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?” she asked naively, “Madame Doroteya is usually on time.”

“Next time I won’t tolerate such behavior, Aria.”

The girl said nothing, simply lowering her gaze and bowing out of respect. She noticed that her father’s clothes were perfect, splendid and clean, and he had most likely bought them especially for the occasion. His shoes were shiny and, when she looked up, she noticed fleetingly that his mustache had been trimmed to show off his beard. He was holding a cane in his right hand that helped him walk.

“The first guests will arrive any minute,” he began to explain as they moved toward the atrium, “please, you must smile and shake hands. Remember to bow and always look the person you are talking to in the eye. Don’t say a word more than necessary, don’t move away and only speak when spoken to.”

“Yes, father.”

The man stopped. He turned and placed the tip of his cane against the girl’s chest.

“This is the first time our family has hosted, and on top of that, the prince will be here today, so I want everything to be perfect.”

“Yes, father.”

“Remember, you are my only daughter, so everyone will expect you to participate. Don’t be your usual self by just standing in the corner.”

“Yes, father.”

The two of them took up positions in front of the front door, held open by Sergey, the palace butler who took care of the kitchen and the porterage duties. The entrance hall would be the life of the party. The room was so large that it could easily fit over a hundred people. The carpet covered the wood and blocked the clatter of heels. Paintings of nobles and heroes from the past had been placed on the walls to decorate them. A mirror covered one of the four walls, which was useful for Aria to check her makeup. Given the harsh climate of the region, the entire palace was heated by a system of new-generation stoves, purchased at a high price from a factory on the outskirts.

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The first nobleman entered followed by his wife. Sergey withdrew the invitation and let him pass.

“Welcome.” Aria smiled. They kissed her hand. She bowed.

A new guest arrived.

“Welcome.” Aria said to the second. They kissed her hand. Half bow.

The third guest arrived.

“Welcome.” Aria said after they kissed her hand.

In the following minutes the room filled with people, the most illustrious in the city. The girl managed to recognize some of them because of the many receptions she had attended in those years, but the one who knew the most about these things was certainly her father.

Because she hated court life.

“Woe to you if you eat.” Her father told her when they finished greeting the last guest.

“Don’t worry, Father, I will entertain the guests and smile without eating anything.”

“Why?”

“Because the food is for them and not for me.”

“Good.”

She had lost count of how many people had come through the door. Fifty? A hundred? Probably more. The main hall had been filled, and some nobles had even gone upstairs, along the corridors.

The men began to eat and drink wine, while the wives formed small groups aside to talk among themselves. Aria remained there near her father and Sergey, because the most important guest had yet to arrive. The wait made Aria nervous and she almost fainted from the heat waves that her body was giving off. It had not been a good choice to wear a tight dress, and, accustomed to low temperatures, those heaters made her sweat and took her breath away.

Then, the prince arrived. His carriage was the most beautiful of all, but more than the carriage, what impressed Aria were the two white horses, tall and prodigious, that carried it. A boy, probably her age or a little older, dressed in a military uniform, got out of the carriage. He was escorted by two guards and the coat of arms indicated the house of Yahontov.

“Prince Leonid III Yahontov, governor of the city of Korotsk, son of King Mikail Yahontov, makes his entrance.” the spokesman announced.

The prince advanced and entered through the main door. All the nobles bowed to him and so did Aria. Then, the prince approached Aria’s father, exchanged several words with him, and then stopped in front of her, kissing her hand.

“Welcome, my prince.” a bow from her.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see her father following the scene like a judge in court.

“Thank you.” the prince replied, “Whose hand did I have the pleasure of kissing?”

“Aria Zotova, Duchess of the Court and daughter of Ungern Zotova, Baron of Korotsk.”

“Aria, it was a pleasure to meet you.” the prince smiled and took his leave to go introduce himself to the other nobles.

“And he was the last one,” her father told her. He gestured to Sergey and he closed the door. “Now go and entertain the guests.”

”Yes, father.”

Thus began the descent into nightmare. She hated conversations, especially those about politics. Plus, most of the people there were men, and the few women were twice or even three times her age.

“Is it really necessary?” she asked, her heart in her throat.

“Yes, it is necessary. In fact, go fill their glasses with wine.”

“But father, Sergey takes care of these things, or at most Madame Doroteya!” her exclamation was muffled; she didn’t want the others to hear her arguing.

“We can’t show the nobility a woman like… Doroteya, here. She’s a simple housekeeper, not a noble. Sergey, on the other hand, as you should know, will take care of the cooking and preparing the dishes with the cooks that I had to pay handsomely, so you will be our waitress.”

Without replying, because she would have lost the argument anyway, Aria made her way to the main table, grabbing a jug of red wine. Her gaze slid over all those sweets that were just waiting to be eaten, but with great willpower, she turned to go and serve the nobles.

She quickly filled the glasses of a small group of nobles, then went back to get a new jug to fill the glasses of the next group.

Given the large amount of people, when she reached the third group to give them a drink, those in the first group already had empty glasses. The problem was that there were a dozen groups.

“It doesn’t make sense… can’t they just do it themselves? All they have to do is reaching out and pour themselves a drink, is this so difficult?” she thought, “I’ll never be able to do it like this… I hate being a waitress!”

“Duchess Aria.”

Someone called her.

“Just Aria.” she said impulsively, turning to find the prince half a sword’s length away from her. Her cheeks turned as red as a tomato and her gaze crawled towards the carpet.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful.”

“I didn’t expect you to serve wine.”

“And I wouldn’t want to either…” her bluntness would have infuriated her father, “Are you thirsty?”

“Aria, would you like to dance with me?” the prince asked her.

“Me?”

The prince nodded.

“Look around you… the women are all married and the youngest of the unmarried is twice my age. And then there’s you.”

Aria coughed. She filled a glass of wine and drank it all in one gulp. Her cheeks turned as red as a tomato.

“But my thoughts are just thoughts,” the prince continued, “the request, on the contrary, is reality.”

A thousand thoughts flew through her head too. Her, dancing with the prince? She hated dancing and she had already told her father this. She had also told him that she would refuse any dance and her father barely agreed in order to keep her quiet.

“No, but there won’t be anyone who will ask you to dance…” she repeated in her mind the words that had been spoken to her.

Besides, he was a prince and she was a simple duchess. And what would happen if her father saw her dancing with him?

“I’m not allowed.” she made up an excuse.

“I didn’t know about this rule.”

“My father is stopping me. He clearly told me that I can’t dance with anyone.”

“Then why not go dancing outside? That way your father won’t see us.”

“Wha-“

The prince offered his hand to Aria and she, used to all those handshakes from before, instinctively reciprocated.

The two of them made their way through the nobles, the laughter and the shouts to go out into the garden, a place of peace and tranquility where they could be in contact with nature. A lantern illuminated two marble benches, near a well. All around, instead, there were hedges, flowers and trees.

The prince put one hand behind Aria’s back and with the other he wrapped his fingers around hers.

“What if they see us?” she asked.

“We’re outside.”

“There are windows on the first floor.”

The prince stopped to think for a few seconds, then he detached himself from the girl and led her toward the inside of the garden. That area was even wilder than the entrance. You had to be careful not to get your clothes dirty with all those plants and roots that were sticking out of the ground. Once a week the gardeners came to clean and cut the plants, but Ungern, to save money, decided not to fix the inside of the garden because no one ever went there anyway.

While they were walking, however, Aria tripped on something and fell.

“Aria! Did you hurt yourself?” asked the prince, going to help her.

“No…”

When she discovered what she had tripped on, she almost screamed, but was stopped by the boy’s hand. One of the policemen who was guarding the garden was lying on the ground, probably dead.

The terror did not end, because immediately afterward they heard a growl.

“What was that?”

A black figure attacked the prince, knocking him to the ground. Aria, her heart like a drum, dragged herself back trying to locate the source of the attack. Everything was silent and the prince seemed to have fainted. But she was afraid, so she moved even further back until she reached the door they had come out of.

Nature seemed to have stopped. Not even a leaf was detaching from the trees and the hedges did not dare to follow the wind.

A growl behind her made her jump.

Turning around, she noticed a tall, slender man with purple skin and long claws. He had little hair, gray, that fell down his back. His clothes, worn, gave a glimpse of most of his body. Instead of teeth, however, real fangs stuck out like knives. His eyes, red as fire, were pointed towards the next prey.

Aria.

Of all the thoughts and actions that passed through her mind, the girl chose one in particular: screaming.