The door creaked open, the crowd whispering among themselves. They were all wondering about Prince Lucas, I’m sure.

Princess Marilyn had just arrived at the ball, her beautiful, tightly winded hair bouncing down her back, her eyes huge and stunningly mesmerizing. She was wearing a sparkly dress with a huge skirt and tight bodice, heavy amounts of cleavage showing, and a figure heavily enhanced by a tight corset, I’m sure.

And she had come alone.

Obviously everyone had expected Lucas to come with Marilyn. After all, they were the perfect match. The ideal pair. The dream couple.

But instead of the pretty Marilyn, Lucas had me on his arm. Standing before the entrance to the ballroom, waiting our turn, we anxiously hugged each other. We didn’t know what the nobles would think or do. The kings were in the crowd also, and if King Henry VI recognized me…

then it would all be over.

We were the last couple to enter, and my heart was shaking furiously in my chest. What if they don’t like me? What if…?

I didn’t know, really.

Luke nuzzled my chin quietly. “Everything will be alright,” he reassured me, “I will protect you.”

I had faith in him, and I was wanting to believe him. Badly. But, somehow, it was hard.

The doors swung open once more to admit us into the ballroom, underneath the stares of the vulture-like nobles.

Hundreds of eyes were fixed on us as we glided onto the dance floor, Luke’s insecurities gone, vanishing under their gazes. He was every bit the perfect prince, taking my arm, twirling me around to the first waltz, talking to me energetically. He was cool, calm, and composed, doing everything a prince would do.

But they weren’t staring at him.

They were staring at me.

“Relax,” he whispered in my ear, swaying me from side to side, “everything is just perfect.” He laughed quietly. “I told father that your name was the Red Maiden.”

I smiled in return, enjoyment on my face, “and what did he say?”

“You have to introduce me to her,” he said, mimicking the deepness of King Rupert, his voice dropping by several pitches. I laughed.

“Almost perfect,” I nodded with approval, then whispered in his ear, “only a few more gray hairs and you’ll capture his essence perfectly.”

I would’ve never said that to a noble or anyone of higher rank, and normally they’d be terribly offended if I did so, but he just chuckled. Then, he lowered his lips to my ear as we danced, and said, “You know what they’re thinking right now?”

I shook my head, nearly whacking him in the process.

“They’re thinking… who is this beautiful Egyptian girl who dances so wonderfully, the one with the perfect figure that even Princess Marilyn lacks?” he mischievously whispered, making me blush.

“She does not! She-”