Location: The Palace of Eldoria
Date: The Twentieth Year of King Aldric's Reign
Time: Evening
The grand hall of Eldoria's palace shimmered under the glow of hundreds of golden chandeliers. Nobles dressed in their finest silks whispered among themselves, their jeweled fingers clutching goblets of the richest wine. The air was thick with the scent of honeyed bread, roasted venison, and the faint perfume of too many noblewomen packed into one room.
And in the center of it all sat Eva.
Or rather, slouched Eva.
Draped in an emerald gown she absolutely despised, she toyed with the golden fork in her hand, stabbing at the roasted pheasant on her plate like it had personally wronged her. Across the table, King Aldric—her father, or so she had been told—cleared his throat, his sharp blue eyes narrowing.
"Straighten your back," he said, voice heavy with authority.
Eva sighed and reluctantly obeyed, though not without muttering, "If I wanted to sit this stiffly, I would have been born a statue."
Lucian, seated to her right, exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Your Highness, you are meant to be making an impression tonight."
"Oh, I am making an impression," Eva said with a wicked grin. "Just not the kind you were hoping for."
A choking sound erupted from across the table—Sir Edgar, the poor knight still recovering from their little horse chase earlier that day, had nearly inhaled his wine at her words. Several nobles turned their heads in scandalized horror.
King Aldric's jaw tensed, but before he could say anything, a slow, deliberate voice filled the air.
"Indeed, the princess does seem to possess a… unique manner of refinement."
Eva turned her head and immediately fought the urge to roll her eyes.
Lord Magnus Rowen.
The man was as slippery as an eel and just as pleasant to look at. He was handsome in a polished, soulless kind of way—his dark hair always perfectly in place, his smile practiced to perfection. The kind of noble who probably spent more time admiring his own reflection than governing his lands.
He raised his goblet. "To the return of Eldoria's lost princess. May she bring prosperity to our great kingdom."
The nobles murmured in agreement, lifting their glasses. Eva, however, only smirked. "Prosperity? I do hope you aren't expecting me to start producing gold from my fingertips."
A few shocked gasps rippled through the hall. Lucian stiffened beside her, no doubt contemplating whether strangling a princess was considered treason.
Magnus, however, merely chuckled. "Gold is not the only treasure a woman can offer, Your Highness."
Eva nearly gagged. Was that supposed to be flirting?
Lucian's jaw clenched so tightly she swore she heard his teeth grind.
King Aldric, clearly sensing impending chaos, spoke before Eva could respond. "Lord Magnus, as one of Eldoria's most influential nobles, has offered his hand in marriage."
The hall fell silent.
Eva blinked. "His… what now?"
Magnus smiled, slow and confident. "It would be a great honor to strengthen the ties between our houses, Your Highness."
Eva glanced at Lucian. He looked seconds away from shattering his goblet in his grip.
She turned back to Magnus, her expression unreadable. Then, very calmly, she reached for the knife beside her plate, lifted it… and drove it straight into the roasted pheasant on her plate. The table shook.
Magnus arched an eyebrow. "Was that an answer, or…?"
Eva smiled sweetly. "That was a warning."
Silence. Thick, heavy silence. Then—
Sir Edgar burst into laughter. It was abrupt, unexpected, and entirely unprofessional, but he slapped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking violently. A few other knights coughed to cover their amusement.
King Aldric sighed, rubbing his temple. "Evangeline, you will at least consider the proposal."
Eva leaned back in her chair. "Oh, I'm considering it, all right. I'm considering all the ways I can politely say no."
Lucian, who had been tense the entire time, finally exhaled, leaning just slightly toward her. "That, Your Highness, was the most reckless, reckless thing you have ever done."
Eva grinned. "Thank you."
"I was not complimenting you."
Magnus, for all his charm, was clearly displeased, though he masked it well. "Perhaps, Princess, we should discuss this matter privately sometime."
Eva crossed her arms. "Perhaps… not."
Lucian coughed to hide his smirk.
The King's patience had clearly reached its limit. "Evangeline," he said with finality, "this discussion is not over."
Eva sighed dramatically. "Is it ever?"
The evening carried on, but Eva could feel the weight of eyes upon her. Some were curious, others amused, and a few—particularly Magnus'—were cold and calculating. She had made an enemy tonight, that much was clear.
As the banquet drew to a close, Lucian leaned in and whispered, "That was foolish, reckless, and utterly irresponsible."
Eva turned to him, her green eyes gleaming. "And yet, I'm still alive. Imagine that."
Lucian groaned.