>>Amber

"I actually have no idea," Ahin looked down in dismay, "The order came from above."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"North," He answered, "I've being assigned to work under Duke Wellington,"

"North?" I tilted my head, "But that place is always freezing! Isn't it?" I frowned, "And they haven't told you why you're being transferred? Isn't that odd?!"

"I might have offended a higher up." He said, "Political things like this happen all the time," He pursed his lip for a second, "The only weird part is, I don't remember being rude to anyone," He shook his head as he looked down, "I wish I didn't have to leave," He looked at me and our eyes met, "I thought I'd be staying,"

My heart jumped at his words. Then I looked away.

"When are you leaving?" I couldn't look at him at the moment.

"In a few days," He answered, "Like maybe two or three days,"

"Oh..." Things went a little quiet after that. I could tell the meaning behind Ahin's words. He had been very clear about his feelings after all.

...

We reached the entrance of the ballroom

"Here," Ahin presented me with a small knife before the door was opened and we walked through it.

"What's this for?" I stared at the sleek dagger

"It's just in case," He said, "I want you to keep it. Since you've become a Saint. Anything can happen."

"Even when you're here?" I teased him

He chuckled, "I won't let anything happen to you as long as I'm here but, just in case, you might need to defend yourself." He paused, "It's more of a gift,"

I took the knife from him, "Thank you," It was a pretty design.

"It's easy to hide." He explained, "In your sleeve, in your dress, it's got a bit of magic imbued in it and it sticks to fabric, you just need to position it right,"

I slipped in in my sleeve, with how it was made, it easily stuck with the stitching

"It's nice," I smiled at him and he gave one back to me, but I noticed how his gaze lingered on me.

???

Why is he staring?

As if he had read my mind, he spoke, "You look beautiful," His genuine compliment made my heart skip a beat but at the same time I felt guilty as well.

I had not given Ahin an answer, and now he was going to leave.

We then walked through the door and I subtly glanced at him, then looked away

...

"Presenting, Her Grace, Saint Amber, and Sir Ahin of the Royal Guard," Our names were announced as we entered the Ball room.

The room was bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of crystal chandeliers, their light reflecting off the gilded walls and the vast expanse of polished marble beneath my feet. The soft hum of conversation mingled with the delicate strains of a string quartet,

The Princess, the host of the party, stood at the far end of the room, resplendent in a gown of midnight blue velvet, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that sparkled like starlight. Her golden hair was arranged in an elegant cascade of curls

I was always jealous of how pretty she was and how her features made her 'glow', while my dark hair and pitch black eyes never gave me the attention I wanted.

I put on a smug smile.

I can't believe how crazy for attention I was as Corvina. I understand now that it was never about my looks, but more about the fact that since I didn't receive love from my family, I was never able to love myself as I was.

The air was filled with the scent of fresh flowers—roses, lilies, and jasmine—artfully arranged in grand bouquets that adorned every corner of the room. The tables were set with the finest porcelain and crystal, laden with delicacies that tempted the eye and the palate. Silver platters held an array of canapés, pastries, and fruits, each more delectable than the last.

"Should I get something for you?" Ahin asked

"A glass of wine," I told him, "I think I'm gonna need it."

He nodded and moved away from me as I went further into the crowd. The people there greeted me

"Saint Amber,"

"Hello Saint,"

"Nice to meet you, Saint Amber,"

It was expected but also a bit tiring. That's when I noticed a waiter come in my direction. He was holding a tray with wine glasses.

"Miss," He came and offered me one.

"Thank you," I took it as I looked around. Where is Ahin? He must be looking for me. I asked him to get me wine and then I vanished from my place. I hope he finds me fast.

I sipped the wine as I kept looking around. That's when I saw the Princess, Ophelia, and her group of friends approach me.

"Saint Amber," She had a smile on her face, "So nice of you to join us,"

"Princess," I gave her a courtesy bow.

"Saint Illaris," I gave her a nod and she nodded back but didn't say anything. The rest of the group didn't greet me either. They all stared at me

I couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

Ophelia looked me up and down, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "My, my, Saint Amber, what an... interesting choice of attire. Lavender, isn't it? How quaint." Her tone was light, but the barb in her words was unmistakable. A few nearby guests stifled their laughter, casting curious glances our way.

What is she on about?

"Your Highness, did you not send me this dress?" I asked politely.

"Me? Why would I do that?" She paused, making an 'O' with her mouth, "Oh? Did you not have any money to buy a dress yourself? So you wanted mine? You should have told me then, I'm always happy to help the poor,"

I felt a flush rise to my cheeks, the sting of her comment making my grip tighten around the stem of the wine glass in my hand. Before I could muster a response, the Princess closed the distance between us, her movements graceful yet deliberate. She placed a hand lightly on my arm, her eyes locking onto mine with a calculating gleam.

"Do tell me," she continued, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "Where did you find such a unique piece? It must have been quite the search." Her words were sugar-coated, but the condescension was clear, "It's odd you wore a dead person's dress while you also look exactly like her."

It hit me then. She sent me this dress to mock me for wearing the dress Corvina wore.

"A dead person's dress," A lady behind her said

"Gosh, what a horrible choice." Someone from the crowd heard our conversation and spoke

"Can't blame her, she's a peasant."

"She looks exactly like that dead wench, it's nauseating."

So this is what the princess wanted to do.

"You may not know this," Ophelia said, "But you look exactly like this woman everyone despised and-" She shook her head at me with a disgusted expression, "This dress, she wore this exact same dress," She looked into my eyes as she gasped, "You didn't steal this, did you?"

"Excuse me?" I pointed at myself, "Me? I don't even know what you're saying."

"It's just that, I don't think anyone would make a copy of a dress already worn by nobility, and especially her." She pointed at her head and twirled her index finger around, "You know, your lookalike was a crazy wench," She lowered her voice, "She wouldn't allow anyone to repeat her dress."

As she spoke, I sensed movement behind me. A subtle signal from the Princess had drawn one of her attendants closer, and in an instant, I felt a sharp push from behind. I stumbled forward, the momentum sending me off balance. My wine glass, already precarious in my tightened grip, tipped dangerously.

In a split second the rich red wine sloshed over the rim of the glass, arcing through the air before splashing down onto the Princess's pristine gown. Gasps echoed around the room as the vivid stain spread across the midnight blue velvet, marring its perfect surface.

The Princess's eyes widened, and for a moment, there was a stunned silence. Then, her expression shifted, a mix of shock and outrage. "Oh dear," she exclaimed, her voice carrying through the ballroom. "Saint Amber! Why!?"

Her words cut through me, the humiliation searing. I could feel the weight of every gaze in the room, the whispers starting to circulate.

"Did she just throw wine at the Princess?"

"She must be out of her mind,"

As the initial shock of the spilled wine began to dissipate, the Princess's expression transformed. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her lips quivered ever so slightly. She clasped her hands together, holding them to her chest in a gesture of distress.

"I didn't mean to offend you or anything," She began, her voice trembling just enough to elicit sympathy. "I was only trying to offer a gentle suggestion. I merely pointed out that perhaps Saint Amber's dress wasn't the best choice." She paused, looking around the room, ensuring she had everyone's attention. Her eyes met mine briefly, filled with feigned sorrow and betrayal.

"But it seems," She continued, her voice rising in volume and emotion, "That my words were misunderstood. I had no intention of causing any offense. There was certainly no need for such a drastic reaction." She glanced down at her wine-stained gown, the deep red of the spilled wine stark against the dark velvet. "I cannot believe that you] would throw wine at me, especially here, at my own ball."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, her friends came over to console her while they glared at me.

"Just because you're a Saint, you can't do that!"

"That's right, how can you ruin the Princess's dress!"

All eyes were on me.

"Gosh, I can't believe a peasant turned into a saint,"

"She has no manners!"

"On top of wearing a dead woman's dress and even looking like her, it seems her personality is similar too."

Her words hung in the air, and I could feel the shift in the room's atmosphere. Whispers spread like wildfire, and the looks directed my way were no longer just curious; they were judgmental, critical. I could hear snippets of conversations—disbelief, shock, and condemnation mixed with speculation about my motives.

"How could she do such a thing?" I heard someone murmur.

"Such behavior is unbecoming," another voice added, filled with disdain.

"Poor Princess, she was only trying to help," A sympathetic guest commented, their voice tinged with righteous indignation.

I felt the weight of their words pressing down on me, my humiliation deepening with every passing second. The Princess continued to play her role to perfection, dabbing at her eyes with a delicate lace handkerchief, her expression one of wounded innocence.

"I only wanted to be kind," She said, her voice softer now, but still loud enough for everyone to hear. "But it seems my kindness has been repaid with cruelty."

The crowd around her murmured in agreement, the collective mood shifting in her favor. I stood there, feeling utterly isolated, my cheeks burning with a mix of anger and shame. The Princess had masterfully turned the situation to her advantage, painting herself as the innocent victim of my supposed malice.

Shit

I almost forgot about palace drama like this. Life was so peaceful in the cafe, away from this bullshit.

I wanted to defend myself, to explain that the wine spill had been an accident, but the atmosphere was so charged against me that any words I might say would likely fall on deaf ears. The princess already denied sending the dress, so I can't even say anything back in that matter.

I pursed my lips in anger and embarrassment.

The damage was done, and the Princess's performance had sealed my fate for the evening.