The palace of Evelina was the grandest thing Aurelian had ever seen.
He had thought Marquise Beaumont’s estate extravagant.
The marble fountains, glass-domed greenhouse, and gardens arranged like paintings had seemed excessive enough for one city.
The palace made them look restrained.
Its spires rose above the capital, sharp against the evening sky, while lanternlight washed the pale stone in gold.
Inside, marble stretched beneath his feet and rose quartz gleamed along the walls, polished enough to catch the light from chandeliers overhead.
For several moments, Aurelian simply stared.
The ballroom was already crowded.
Nobles stood in careful clusters, gowns and coats arranged across the polished floor like bright flowers.
Some spoke easily with old acquaintances.
Others watched the room over the edges of fans and champagne glasses.
A few of those eyes found him.
“You are the talk of the party.”
Aurelian looked toward his mother.
Carina Bellafonte stood beside him in crimson, perfectly composed beneath the chandeliers and far too entertained by his discomfort.
“Why would I be?”
Carina chuckled.
“You earned Marquise Beaumont’s favor, survived Lady Lockwood, and retrieved Cecily Primrose’s ribbon from a pond.
People have been discussing you ever since.”
Aurelian grimaced.
“I nearly fell into that pond.”
“They remember the ribbon.”
“I remember the pond.”
“And you should remember to thank your tutor.”
“I have.
Repeatedly.”
“Then perhaps once more will not hurt.”
“I will accept it after the ball tonight.”
Aurelian looked down to find Echo beside him.
She wore deep yellow softened with pink, roses decorating the gathered fabric at her waist.
A fan moved slowly in one hand, though the slight strain around her eyes suggested the crowded ballroom was warmer than she preferred.
“I expect dessert cakes and warm tea,” she added.
“I can arrange that.”
Standing between Echo and his mother did little to make the palace less overwhelming, but it did make Aurelian feel less alone in it.
A trumpet sounded from the staircase.
Conversation faded almost instantly.
A royal page stepped forward at the head of the wide marble stairs.
“Presenting His Majesty, King Richard Evelina, Her Majesty, Queen Celeste Evelina, and Her Royal Highness, Princess Serena Evelina.”
The royal family descended together.
King Richard was tall and broad-shouldered, his black hair neatly combed and his sharp features held in an expression of quiet severity.
He did not look like a man who needed to repeat an order.
Queen Celeste appeared gentler beside him, fair and golden-haired with clear blue eyes.
There was softness in her beauty, but nothing fragile about the way she carried herself.
Behind them walked Princess Serena.
She was young—far younger than many of the men gathered in the room—with black hair falling in waves down her back and her mother’s blue eyes.
All three wore pearl white and gold, moon-opal jewelry catching the chandelier light as the ballroom bowed.
King Richard raised one hand.
“The princess’s first dance will be decided by her,” he announced.
“Do not approach her with ulterior motives, and do not imagine it wise to try and gain the upper hand.
I will be watching.”
Several young men nearby straightened considerably.
Aurelian leaned toward his mother.
“What does he mean?”
Carina glanced at him.
“This is Princess Serena’s debut.
The search for a husband has begun.”
Aurelian stared at her.
“So you should greet her properly at some point tonight.”
“Mother, she is a child.”
“You are unmarried, titled, and in good standing.
It would be strange if you ignored her entirely.”
“She is a child.”
Carina sighed.
“You must marry eventually, Aurelian.
You are already older than most men entering their first season.”
The thought of being considered beside a girl Serena’s age made his discomfort sharpen rather than soften.
He had no interest in turning a social season into a hunt for a wife.
He wanted friends.
He wanted enough court experience to stop embarrassing Echo.
He wanted to return home without causing a scandal.
That seemed ambitious enough.