The Emperor strode into the center of the debutantes' hall, his smile benevolent and practiced.
"Everyone—raise your heads."
As the assembled aristocrats looked up, His Majesty let his gaze drift slowly across the young ladies gathered around the room.
His smile deepened.
"Listen well, all of you who step into the light this evening.
I bless the days that lie ahead of you."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
The debutantes curtsied in graceful unison, then straightened.
Daya did the same, her movements fluid and precise.
The Emperor, satisfied, glanced toward the orchestra.
Music began to flow through the hall like silk unfurling.
Only then did the young aristocrats begin approaching the debutantes.
Marin watched with growing alarm as a veritable *swarm* of cavaliers surged in their direction.
"And you're certain you can manage without me?"
The Duke's voice was calm, almost amused.
Marin's smile turned awkward.
"I think... perhaps you should stay a little longer."
The Duke chuckled softly.
He took a single step forward—and released a wave of menacing pressure.
The advancing crowd of young lords seemed to collide with an invisible wall.
They froze mid-stride, then began dispersing to either side like water parting around a stone.
Marin reached up and gently patted the Duke's shoulder.
"If you frighten everyone like this, what if no one dares to approach Daya and ask her to dance?"
"You just asked me to stay."
"Lord Gerald."
Marin's voice dropped to a pointed whisper.
"If you simply *stand* there radiating that ferocious aura, half the young men in this room won't be able to come within ten feet of us."
When the Duke finally reined in his oppressive presence, hesitation flickered across the faces of the young men nearby.
Unable to resist, Marin nudged him lightly in the side with her elbow.
"This won't do.
Step back.
We absolutely cannot allow our Daya to become a wallflower."
"You keep pushing me one way and then the other," the Duke grumbled, clearly displeased.
"Shoo.
*Shoo.*"
His jaw twitched.
"People are already taking to the dance floor, you know."
Marin's gaze darted across the hall with mounting concern.
Young ladies and gentlemen were linking arms and gliding toward the parquet.
Daya's dance card—the list of partners for the evening—remained completely blank.
Yet others were already dancing.
Gerald glanced sideways at her troubled expression through half-lowered lids, then closed his eyes once more.
"We don't need anyone who lacks the courage to approach my niece."
Daya, a smile warming her voice, reached out and lightly touched Marin's hand.
"Teacher Marin, I'm perfectly fine.
I don't particularly want to dance anyway."
Marin gazed at Daya's beautiful face with a pang of regret.
At that moment—
"How delightful to see you all here."
The Crown Prince approached, his soft golden curls carefully combed back from his face.
His formal ball attire suited him perfectly—crisp, elegant, radiant.
He drew every eye in his vicinity.
The young ladies nearby couldn't tear their enchanted gazes away.
"Your Highness..."
Marin and Daya immediately curtsied, but he raised one palm to stop them.
"No need for ceremony."
"Your Highness, you look magnificent this evening," Marin greeted him with a warm, genuine smile.
"Thank you for the kind words."
His golden eyes crinkled.
"And you look absolutely charming, my lady.
But if I may—I would like to add my name to Lady Adria's dance card."
He smiled softly, almost shyly.
Marin glanced quickly at Daya, who gave a barely perceptible nod.
With a wide smile, Marin handed him the card.
The Crown Prince wrote his name on the very first line.
Then the next.
And the one after that.
Marin's eyes widened.
"Your Highness?"
"Oh—is that not allowed?"
Smiling with sheepish innocence, he carefully inscribed his name on the very last line as well.
Utterly bewildered, Marin turned her gaze to Daya.
Daya's expression was unreadable—but her deep green eyes fixed intently on the prince.
"My lady."
He extended his hand with courtly grace.
"Would you do me the honor of this dance?"
"Yes."
She placed her black-satin-gloved hand atop his.
The warmly shining Crown Prince and the subtly shimmering Daya beside him made a picture so striking it seemed painted by a master's hand.
As they departed toward the dance floor, Marin looked down at the now-filled card.
"What are you doing?"
"I was just thinking—the card is only palm-sized.
Couldn't we mark out more columns on the reverse?"
The Duke grinned and took her hand in his.
"What for?"
"Five steps."
"You're already standing one step away."
"It's especially dangerous in crowded places like this."
"Yes, yes..."
Marin answered distractedly—and then the nobles around them parted like the waters of the Red Sea.
She looked up automatically.
The Emperor was walking toward them, a smile playing at his lips.
Marin quickly withdrew her hand from the Duke's fingers and sank into a deep curtsy.
"Marin of House Viscount Shuvenets greets His Imperial Majesty."
"Vines greets His Imperial Majesty."
"Raise your heads."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The moment Marin looked up, she felt the Emperor's gaze—sharp, curious, assessing.
She forced herself to remain composed.
She had never imagined she would see the Emperor at such close range.
He was one of those who tormented the Duke—greedy for the wealth generated by Western trade, envious of power he could never match.
A petty, grasping man hiding behind a crown.
Meanwhile, the Emperor was studying the young lady before him.
Lady Adria had been the most conspicuous figure in the room; he had intended to approach her himself.
But the Crown Prince had gotten there first.
He had sired ten princesses from his various empresses thus far, but not one had given him a male heir.
Naturally, there had been no struggle for succession.
The current Crown Prince had been determined immediately—without competition, without challenge.
The title for which the Emperor himself had once fought against many brothers, this heir had received effortlessly.
It was *infuriating*.
He was not yet old.
There was still time to try for more sons.
"A pleasure to meet you, my lady," the Emperor said with practiced warmth.
"The honor is mine, Your Majesty."
The lady's slender shoulders trembled almost imperceptibly with fear.
It was far better for the Duke to marry a girl from an unremarkable family than to become entangled with the daughter of some powerful magnate.
For the first time in a long while, the Emperor's smile turned genuine.
"Forgive the belated congratulations.
I wish you joy on your engagement.
Be happy."
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
"And you as well, Duke of the West."
"Yes."
The Duke's reply was short, dry, utterly indifferent.
The Emperor's smile froze for the barest instant—then smoothed itself out once more.
"I won't keep busy people from their affairs.
You may go."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Leaning on his cane, the Duke took his bride's hand and stepped forward.
She walked one pace ahead of him.
A cold, satisfied smile touched the Emperor's lips.
## — The Truth About Love —
As the Crown Prince and Daya made their way toward the dance floor, the crowd around them gradually parted.
They found themselves naturally at the very center of the hall.
A soft melody began to drift through the air, and the pair began to dance.
The other couples, who had frozen to watch, slowly resumed their movements.
"You are dazzlingly beautiful this evening," the prince said, his smile gentle.
"Thank you, Your Highness.
As are you."
"Do you mean that sincerely?"
Daya, who had been keeping her gaze modestly lowered, looked up and met his golden eyes directly.
"Yes."
"I missed you."
The directness of it—almost grateful in its honesty—sent a flicker of bewilderment through her deep green gaze.
"Why?"
The prince smiled again, softer this time.
"Would you believe me if I told you I fell in love with you at first sight?"
And yet there was no lover's languor in his eyes.
Only sincere, uncomplicated affection.
A quiet smile curved Daya's pink lips.
"Your Highness is not a very good liar."
"Why don't you believe me?"
"Because I *know*."
"Know what, exactly?"
"There are people in love around me."
Her voice was thoughtful, certain.
"When you're near them constantly, you inevitably learn to recognize what it looks like—being truly in love."
Daya turned her gaze toward the Duke and Marin, standing together at the edge of the room.
The Crown Prince followed her eyes.
"Are they really in love?"
Daya's eyes crinkled with quiet amusement.
"Just stand beside them for a moment.
It's impossible to mistake it for anything else."