His Trapped Princess

Petra’s POV

“I can’t find him, Princess,” Amity pants breathlessly, stopping in front of me.

Frowning, I look over the balcony into the busy ballroom below. “We cannot hold off any longer. My brother and Lady Nika are waiting.” I offer her a nod of approval, and she rushes over to the royal herald, who prepares to announce my solo arrival. It is anything but ideal. As a Princess of this realm, I am expected to be presented at court on my husband’s arm; however, needs must, as they say.

I walk to the top of the stairs, resting my hand on the cool marble as the herald clears his throat.

“Wait!”

I glance over my shoulder to see Merikh briskly heading my way. He fiddles with the collar of his tunic, checking over his fastenings before running his fingers through his black, shoulder-length hair.

“You’re late, my lord,” I state simply as he takes his place at my side.

He lifts my hand to land a gentle kiss. “Apologies, I had some business to attend to, but I am here now. Could you help me with this?”

He hands me his mask—tones of gold decorated with fiery orange as he had requested.

“Certainly.” I position it over his face, tying a neat bow at the back of his head. “I trust you are happy with your attire this evening?”

He looks down over his tunic, brushed gold and threaded with a delicate swirling pattern to resemble the lick of flickering flames, a symbol of the Fire Court from which he hails. “I am, my love. As usual, you have exceeded my expectations. It is just as I had imagined when I described it to you.”

I nod, and he puts his arm out to receive mine.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN OF TIPREON, LORD MERIKH BALTHAZAR AND PRINCESS PETRA MORATI BALTHAZAR.”

As we descend the stairs to the sound of applause, Merikh waves in appreciation to the crowd. I, on the other hand, use it as an opportunity to observe the ballroom in all its splendor and glory.

A picture of ethereal beauty, the grand space has been transformed into an enchanting land of magic and wonder. Long, luminous vines, dotted with blossoms of spun moonlight, cascade down the walls and wrap around stone pillars, showering the room in gentle, silvery radiance. Amongst the guests float small golden lanterns filled with enchanted fireflies offering an atmospheric glow beneath the dark, ever-changing ceiling. A masterpiece of illusion, it slowly transitions from star-studded skies to the cosmic lights of distant galaxies beyond any mere mortal’s comprehension. The polished marble floors reflect the ceiling so perfectly that the dancing guests could be considered to be weaving a path through the constellations themselves.

The large, circular tables that encase the dance floor are draped in fine metallic materials, scattered with diamonds that twinkle and shine. Each table dominated by its own gargantuan crystal chandelier, suspended in mid-air by an invisible thread.

The guests, hidden behind intricate masks of silver and gold and black and white, wear expensive attire of the same colors in keeping with the theme of the evening. An evening celebrating a new chapter for Tipreon—a union between the Royal Court and the mighty Earth Court. An advantageous marriage for both parties, but happily one born out of mutual love, according to my brother.

The atmosphere is a heady mixture of curiosity, excitement and anticipation. All eyes eager to catch a glimpse of their king arm-in-arm with his new bride-to-be for the first time.

We reach the bottom step as the sound of music heightens—a mesmerizing, spirited string quartet played by an absent band of musicians.

I turn in place, looking up in unity with the surrounding crowd to my king as he steps into view. Dressed in all red with a shining gold crown upon his head, my brother Dannas is the epitome of Tipreon royalty. By his side, his new queen-in-waiting, Lady Nika—daughter of Josep Atara, keeper of the Earth Court—stuns in a gown of deep crimson that hugs her alabaster skin before draping into a full tulle skirt speckled with silver gems and precious stones. Her red hair, streaked with flashes of brilliant orange, compliments the cool blue of her twinkly eyes. Even with her face shrouded by her mask, her beauty is abundantly clear. I’m sure if I could see the faces of the High Fae ladies in this ballroom, I would find more than a few expressions of poorly concealed jealousy.

“HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS, KING DANNAS MORATI AND LADY NIKA ATARA.”

I clap in tandem with the adorning lords, ladies and courtiers alike, a smile on my face to witness my brother’s happiness.

He takes hold of Lady Nika, securely tucking her arm under his as they make their way downstairs. While his head remains up and focused ahead, Lady Nika’s eyes dip slightly, focusing on her high-heeled shoes, occasionally making a fleeting appearance beneath her enormous gown.

My brother holds his hand up as they reach the bottom of the staircase. “Thank you for your gracious welcome! Enjoy the festivities in honor of my darling Lady Nika— your future Queen of Tipreon!”

He extends his arm, and Lady Nika performs a small curtsy on slightly shaky knees, standing back up straight to carefully lift her red and silver mask from her face.

The crowd gasps in recognition of her youthful beauty, a shower of praise following soon after. Lady Nika graciously accepts their shared murmurs of approval and replaces her mask, looking to my brother for further instruction.

“Come, my lady. Let us dance.”

He leads her by the hand to the now-empty dance floor, locking her in an elegant frame before they twirl and sweep across the sea of stars. After a respectful amount of time has passed, Merikh and I join them, performing the same practiced steps memorized from years of attending balls and events such as these.

“Your brother’s flare for extravagant decor has reached new levels. This ballroom is exquisite,” Merikh observes, stopping to lower me backward.

“It certainly is something,” I agree, taking another look around.

We fall into silence for a few moments. “What business had you to attend to this evening, my lord?” I question curiously.

“An emissary of the Royal Court always has business to attend to, my love.”

He is right, of course; as the main emissary to my brother, Merikh has a vast array of responsibilities, many of which keep him busy for days or even weeks at a time.

“Why do you ask?”

I shake my head gently. “No reason.”

Silence befalls us again as the floor fills with enthusiastic new couples. My eyes immediately settle on Lord Lazlo and Lady Chlo Solomyn—keepers of the Water Court—who appear to have shunned the dress code entirely. They are dressed head-to-toe in cerulean blue and sea-foam green, but I’m not at all surprised by their classless attention-seeking. As my brother’s chief rival, Lord Lazlo Solomyn often attempts to undermine him in some kind of pointless way.

“Your brother ought to confront the Solomyns this evening. Their impertinence is blatant and downright ridiculous,” Merikh states, shaking his head.

I’m not worried about the Solomyns’ in the slightest. It’s no secret that when my father decided to step down, they coveted his throne, even making scheming moves behind closed doors in an attempt to steal the crown from my family. As it happens, their attempts were in vain.

“My brother will not let such a childish stunt ruin his evening. Let us not allow it to ruin ours,” I answer calmly.

Merikh smiles in return. “You’re right, my love.”

After another round of the dance floor, Merikh and I break apart. He finds his fellow courtiers drinking fine wines by the food-laden banquet table while I head off in search of my lady’s maid.

It isn’t long before I find her standing by the ballroom doors alongside my personal bodyguard, Tiberius, who has been closely watching me all day.

“Don’t say you’re leaving the party already, Princess?” Amity snorts as I stop at her side.

“If only that were the case.” I roll my eyes beneath my mask.

She laughs lightly as Tiberius watches her with an adoring smile.

It’s true that having attended so many of these parties and balls over the years, they have naturally lost their novelty. Although visually beautiful, the sheer opulence, when coupled with the unyielding sycophantic chit-chat and drivel, becomes tedious and, honestly, rather dull to me. Nevertheless, it is my duty as Princess of this realm to show support for Tipreon and contribute to the smooth running of this great Royal Court.

“Ahem, is there anything I can do for you, Princess?” Tiberius asks dutifully, breaking free of his trance.

“Perhaps a—”

“Glass of wine,” Amity interrupts, finishing my sentence while offering me a knowing smirk.

“Gods, you know I hate it when you do that,” I mutter, adjusting my silver mask, which is now slightly itching. “But yes, a glass of wine.”

She scoffs in amusement, and Tiberius chuckles, stopping abruptly when I offer him a pointed glare.

“Coming up, Princess. I’ll be right back.”

As he walks off to complete the task, Amity surveys the crowd with me. “You do know that as your lady’s maid, I should be encouraging you to mingle with your High Fae counterparts, Princess.”

I nod, shrugging my shoulders casually. “And as you well know, having been my lady’s maid for the better part of a century, I’d rather stick red hot pins in my eyes.”

She lifts her hand to disguise her laugh.

“I take it you noticed Lord Lazlo and Chlo Solomyn?” I ask.

“Who hasn’t? Anyway… look out. Incoming pair of diamond-encrusted assassins, two o’clock.”

I cannot help it when my shoulders drop at the sight. Even though her face is half covered, I can already tell by the long blonde hair and garishly elaborate gown that one of them is indeed Lady Relda, no doubt accompanied by one of her many bootlicking clingers.

“Ahhh, Princess. There you are! It has been an age since we last saw one another, has it not?”

“Has it really?” My reply sounds colder than I intended, but I am not all that troubled by it.

A smile tugs at her lips. “I was just saying to my companion here that this engagement party is even more spectacular than King Dannas’ first wedding when he had that delightful choir of faeries! Or was that his second wedding? Forgive me; one does lose track over time.”

And so it begins. The first attack launched under the guise of stupidity and ignorance. How original.

“That was his first wedding,” I answer matter-of-factly, refusing to rise to her bait. “And it was a choir of sprites, actually.”

“Hmm, you are right! Of course, you are! The great beauty of Tipreon also has a keen mind! I should have remembered the sprites!” Her giggles are echoed by her accompanying airhead.

“Do not be discouraged, Lady Relda. I hear many women begin to forget things in their sixth hundred year. Might I suggest a diary?”

Immediately, her false laughter diminishes; however, I don’t have time to revel in her vexation as over her shoulder, I see her husband, Lord Kharo Balthazar—keeper of the Fire Court and my brother-in-law—approaching us.

“Will you excuse me, Lady Relda? I’m in need of a refreshment.”

I don’t even spare a second to say goodbye to Amity before striding to the drinks table.

“Princess, I have your drink. Do you want—?”

“Give it to Amity. I’ll fetch my own. Thank you, Tiberius.”

I breathe out a sigh of relief as I reach for the last glass on the mirrored tray. However, the glass is removed from my grasp before I can put my hand on it.

“Oh, sorry. Did you want this?” The voice is deep and smooth. Unfamiliar, which is a kindness at this present moment.

I look up to the owner of the voice, and my brows knit as I take in his overwhelming stature. Clad in a fitted black tunic that hugs the curves of his particularly large arms and shoulders is a blond man wearing a crooked smirk under the simple black mask that hides the rest of his face.

“I was reaching for it. Therefore, it’s safe to assume that I did indeed want it,” I answer plainly. “However, you beat me to it. So please, enjoy.”

He scoffs a little. “What an oddly literal thing to say.”

“I’m sorry. Were you expecting me to lie?”

“Uhh. I don’t know. In all honestly, I’m a bit confused. So here. Take this, I insist.”

I look around carefully, my eyes falling on Tiberius, who shakes his head subtly.

“No. That’s quite alright. I’ll fetch a fresh one. I’m positive a servant will be here any moment.”

He nods slowly, taking a drink as he also looks to Tiberius. “Ahh, clever. It wouldn’t be wise for you to take a drink from someone you didn’t know, would it? That’s your bodyguard over there, I presume?”

I narrow my eyes. “Who are you exactly? You are not High Fae. Your tunic is Elven in style, but you are not an elf either.”

He chuckles in amusement as a servant approaches us. “Very observant of you, Princess.”

“Sorry to disturb you both,” the servant begins. “The king wishes to see you now.”

“Tell my brother I shall be there in—”

The servant winces fearfully. “Apologies Princess. I was talking to the gentleman.”

I fold my arms over my chest as the stranger looks over me with a grin. “Awkward.”

“You know my brother? How? I’m certain you are a stranger to this realm as I know all his acquaintances by name and station.”

“All of them? That’s worryingly pedantic, but hey, who am I to judge? I’m only a handsome stranger.”

“I did not say that you were hand—”

“Please, tell the king I’m on my way,” he interrupts, turning to the servant. “I’m just getting to know his enchanting sister.”

The servant leaves, and the stranger finishes his drink in one go.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“How do you know, my brother?” I ask in irritation.

“Oh, I don’t know him. I guess you could say we have a mutual friend.”

“And prey tell, who is this friend?” I don’t bother to hide the skepticism in my voice.

“The elf King of Morween.”

My brows rise in mild surprise. “A stranger with friends in high places.”

“At your service, Princess.” He bows jokingly before placing his empty glass on the table. “Anyway, thanks for the drink. I guess I owe you one.” He puts his hands in his pockets, sauntering off while casually perusing the dance floor.

Gods, how I hate these parties.

Then, a stream of servants appears to fill up the empty trays, and I waste no time snatching up a glass. As I take a sip, I reluctantly glance toward the stranger, watching as he engages in discussion with both my brother and Commander Ernesh, the head of the Tullian Guard.

A flash of red crosses my peripheral, and I look to my right to see Lady Nika reaching for a glass of lillybell tonic, which she tosses back in one go. I cannot help but smirk just a little. “How is your first ball as queen-to-be treating you, my lady?”

She releases a puff of air, her hand falling to her stomach. “I feel a little sick, in truth, Princess. This is all a bit much.”

I frown as I see a flash of panic in her eyes. “Are you unwell?”

She shakes her head adamantly. “No. I guess I’m just not used to all of this.”

“Do not fret. It will become second nature soon enough.”

She smiles gratefully, moving to my side.

“Lady Nika…you do not happen to know the man standing by my brother?”

“The blond man wearing all black?”

I nod.

“No, I’m sorry. I do not, Princess. He does not appear to be High Fae.”

“No, he’s not…” I answer, tilting my head as I examine him again. His broad shoulders twist as he looks in our direction, and I quickly avert my prying gaze.

Gods, how humiliating…

It is then that I notice Lady Nika’s appearance growing even more pale than usual. “Perhaps it would be best if you have a lie-down. I shall fetch my brother.”

“No, please, Princess. I shouldn’t like to spoil his evening. I could take a short break in my parlor. I’m sure my lady’s maid would prepare me a soothing tonic.”

“I’ll walk you upstairs,” I offer insistently, ignoring her polite refusal.

After all, I remember feeling the same upon the first ball thrown in my honor. It is overwhelming and uncomfortable for some to receive such intense attention and nauseating adulation.

I accompany Lady Nika upstairs to her parlor. When I am satisfied that she is in the safe hands of her lady’s maid, I reluctantly make my way back toward the top of the grand ballroom staircase.

The lively music, laughter and twinkly lights draw closer, but a dark figure appears against the flickering backdrop before I can reach their safety. I do not have to question who the body belongs to.

“Lord Kharo…”

“Princess,” he bows his head as I stop in front of him. “I have been looking for you.”

“Really? Apologies. I have been rather busy. We could go find Merikh together? I believe he would dearly love to catch up with you.”

“My little brother can wait,” he smiles. “He has you all to himself every other day. I don’t think he would mind us spending some time together.”

He reaches for my hand, and I stiffen as he lifts it to his lips to land a rather wet kiss. “Might I tell you that you look and smell incredible this evening, my Princess?”

I snatch my hand from his tight grip as his tongue flicks over his thin bottom lip. The urge to vomit is almost too much to bear.

“Princess, there you are. King Dannas is looking for you.”

My head snaps left to see him—the blond man in the black mask and tunic.

He steps closer, his gaze falling on Lord Kharo. “I can escort you, Princess. If you wish?”

“Yes. That would be satisfactory. Thank you.”

Lord Kharo smiles slyly, nodding his head. “It appears you are busy. We will have that catch-up later then.”

“Yes. Later,” I reply, remaining rooted to the spot as he disappears downstairs.

The stranger grins. “′That would be satisfactory’?”

My shoulder twitches in reply, and his smile widens, revealing a dimple in his left cheek. He wanders to the balcony to look at the dance floor below. “And you’re welcome, by the way.”

I stand by his side to follow his gaze. “I do not need to be rescued by some stranger. Especially not from my brother-in-law.”

“Handsome stranger.”

“Excuse me?”

He smiles again, his eyes capturing mine, and it’s in that moment under the lights that I notice their striking, clear blue hue. “You forgot handsome. Never mind. I believe the term you are looking for, Princess, is ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you?!”

“You’re welcome.”

I frown. “No, I was not saying thank you; I was simply—I really must go find my husband. He will be worried.”

His head tilts as he looks over the crowd. “Yes, you really should. The poor man looks utterly beside himself.”

I swallow as I observe Merikh slap the table in drunken merriment as he sits amongst his loud courtier friends.

The stranger moves closer, and my gaze finds his again.

“Consider my debt paid. For the drink.” He winks, moving past me to head back downstairs.

I place both hands on the marble ledge and watch him for a few minutes as he re-joins the celebration.

“Princess, I’ve been looking all over for you!” Tiberius states worriedly, climbing the stairs with Amity at his back. “I’m lucky Commander Ernesh didn’t notice that I lost sight of you.”

“I’m quite alright, Tiberius,” I answer, distracted as I watch the stranger chat with two attractive servants passing out glasses of lillybell tonic. They seem rather taken with him, their coy smiles and flirtatious body language telling me as much.

“Do we know this man?” Amity asks curiously.

“No.”

“Do we like this man?”

“No.”

“Got it. He’s an asshole.”

“Language.”

“Oops. Sorry. He’s a scoundrel.”

“Better.”

I turn to her, and she grins. “Limit reached?”

“Limit exceeded. Let’s get out of here before they realize I’m gone.”

We walk back through the hallways, heading for the east wing while yet another Royal High Fae party dissolves into nothing but a memory.