Weeks passed. The hushed murmurs of the unconscious villager, of spirits and shadows in the forest, began to fade into the background of daily life. Evendale, ever warm and golden beneath the spring sun, slowly returned to its usual charm. The market thrived once more, laughter spilled through cobbled streets, and the hum of anticipation filled the air.
The Suitors' Bloom Ball was near.
It was a cherished tradition in Evendale. Once each spring, suitors from all across the land would send letters to the young ladies they admired. The letters were always sealed—most with the red wax of their family crest—and never signed with a full name. Each suitor sent a gift alongside the letter, something wearable: a ribbon, a bracelet, a pair of slippers, or a gown. Whatever the gift, it was meant to speak to the heart. And on the night of the ball, each maiden would wear the gift from the letter that moved her most. By that gift, the suitor would find her… and approach.
Every household in Evendale buzzed with deliveries, but none more than the Edevan manor. Vivienne and Seraphina sat cross-legged on Vivienne's bed as packages piled around them—dresses of velvet, dainty shoes, sparkling hair combs, and parchment sealed with swirling insignias.
"Oh heavens, look at this one!" Seraphina said, holding up a lace choker adorned with a single pearl. "You could wear this to a coronation."
Vivienne giggled as she peeled open yet another letter. She paused. This seal was different—black wax, unmarked by crest or cresting swirl. Only one word was pressed into the wax: Lucian.
Her heart skipped.
She held the letter tighter and turned it around in her hands. Seraphina leaned over, eyebrows raised. "Well?"
They opened it together.
Dearest Lady Vivienne,
Do me the honour of having you at the ball. Pick me, and I shall show you what it feels like to be a Queen.
—Lucian.
Vivienne's cheeks flushed rose. Her fingers trembled as she set the letter down gently in her lap, like it were a secret too delicate to hold for long.
Seraphina let out a dreamy sigh. "He sent his name?"
"He did." Vivienne's voice was soft. She touched the wax seal again, as though to be sure.
They both dissolved into giggles.
The night of the ball arrived at last.
The great hall of Evendale Castle glittered with floating candles, hanging garlands of wisteria and rose, and rows of musicians tucked in velvet alcoves. There was magic in the air, soft and unseen—something more than the music and wine and sparkle. It was the promise of romance.
Vivienne stood near the grand staircase, her gloved fingers fidgeting at her side. She wore a red gown like no other, it was Lucian's gift for the ball. It was an off-shoulder corset dress, its bodice snug at her waist, its skirts falling like cascading wine. Her hair was styled back, elegant, with soft curls falling forward near her collarbone. A golden bracelet wrapped around her wrist—the gift that had come with Lucian's letter.
She was breathtaking.
Seraphina was nearby, radiant in a soft blue gown with silver threads. Her neck was adorned with a delicate chain—the very one Sir Fredrick had sent her. When he spotted her from across the room, a slow smile spread across his face. He approached, bowed low, and offered his arm.
"Lady Seraphina," he said.
She took it with grace, casting Vivienne a wide-eyed grin before letting him lead her into the crowd.
Vivienne's smile lingered, but her nerves stirred. The ball swelled with colour and movement around her—music rising, laughter ringing, satin shoes sliding across marble floors.
Then…
"Hello, love."
The voice came low, smooth, and velvet from behind her. Her spine tingled at the sound of it.
She turned—slowly.
Lucian stood just behind her, a vision in black and deep crimson. His eyes, ever so intense, held her in place. One corner of his mouth curved.
"You picked me," he said.
"You sent your name," she replied, though her voice was a touch breathless.
"I wanted you to know " he said, eyes never leaving hers.
They stood there, for a moment, still and silent while the world turned around them. Then Lucian extended his hand.
"May I have this dance?"
Vivienne hesitated—not from reluctance, but from awe. Then, with her heart fluttering wildly in her chest, she placed her hand in his.
The music swelled as they stepped onto the dance floor, and though many turned to look—how could they not?—Vivienne felt as though no one else existed.
They moved as if they had done so a thousand times before. Lucian's grip was gentle yet firm, and his gaze never wavered. He spun her once, and her dress caught the air like fire.
"You look…" he began, then leaned in slightly, his voice low. "Dangerously beautiful in this dress."
Vivienne let out a soft laugh. "You flatter me too much."
"I don't think it's enough," he murmured.
Their dance was longer than a single song, longer than a moment—time seemed to stretch and soften around them. And when the music slowed and their steps stilled, Lucian didn't let go.
He leaned in just a little closer, his voice like silk.
"I meant every word of that letter."
Vivienne's breath caught.
And before she could reply, before she could ask what he meant to show her, he brought her hand to his lips, placed the softest kiss on her knuckles, and stepped back into the crowd—vanishing once again.
Vivienne stood still. Her heart thundered, her eyes wide. She brought her hand slowly to her chest.
Was this a dream?
She turned, searching the room, but he was gone.
And yet… she could still feel the warmth where his fingers had touched hers. Still feel the echo of his voice, like something that had curled its way into her very soul.