Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The grandeur of the Goldenbloom estate's ballroom, bathed in the warm glow of a hundred candles and the bright sparkle of chandeliers, could not have been more at odds with the turmoil churning within Cerys. She entered the ball, shadowed by her family members, each of whom was a study in the perfection demanded by high society. Elara, draped in silks that captured the light with every movement, gilded beside James, whose suit seemed to have been tailored from the night sky itself, stars included. Their radiance was such that they seemed not to walk, but to float above the marble floor, drawing admiring glances and whispered accolades from the assembled guests.

Cerys, by contrast, felt every bit the shadow she was meant to be. Yet, as she moved through the crowd, there was a certain grace to her step, a quiet dignity that could not be dimmed by the drabness of her attire. It was as though the very act of defiance against her mother's wishes had imbued her with a new strength, a silent assertion that she would not be so easily dismissed or overlooked.

As the evening wore on, the ball unfolded in a dazzling display of wealth and elegance. Laughter rippled through the air, mingling with the strains of a string quartet that played from a balcony. Servants wove through the crowd, offering trays of champagne and delicate morsels that were works of art in their own right. It was a scene straight from a fairy tale, yet for Cerys, it held little of the magic it purported to offer.

Instead, she found herself drawn to the edges of the room, where the light did not reach so insistently, where the shadows offered a semblance of peace. It was there, in the relative quiet, that she encountered a figure who seemed as out of place as she felt. The figure was a man whose presence seemed to command the space around him, despite his quiet demeanour and fitting of his royal title as the Crown Prince. He was tall and lean, with an air of understated elegance that set him apart from the more ostentatious display of wealth around them. His suit was impeccably tailored, fitting him as if it were made of shadows, enhancing the mysterious allure that surrounded him.

Cerys knew her attraction to the crown prince was forbidden, wishing for a connection forged in the brief moment their eyes met but that thought soon diminished as the man's attention shifted, drawn away by a commotion at the far end of the ballroom. The sudden disturbance seemed to ripple through the crowd, a wave of whispered speculation and barely contained excitement. Cerys, curious despite herself, followed his gaze.

It was then she noticed the cause of the stir—a figure making his way through the throng of guests with an air of authority that seemed to part the sea of people. The newcomer was none other than Azrael Blackwood, Duke of Shadowmoor, a man whose reputation preceded him like a dark shadow. Rumours of his merciless nature and the power he wielded within the realm were whispered in hushed tones, painting him as a figure both feared and revered.

As Azrael approached the crown prince beside Cerys, she suddenly seemed less significant, his mysterious allure overshadowed by the tangible aura of danger that emanated from the duke. Azrael's eyes scanned the room, taking in the faces of the assembled guests with an indifferent gaze until his eyes locked with Cerys’. In that moment, a shiver of foreboding ran down her spine. She was caught in the gaze of a predator, and though part of her wanted to look away, to retreat into the safety of the shadows, she found herself rooted to the spot. The crowd around them seemed to sense the shift in the air, a subtle change that marked the duke's interest. Whispers swirled like leaves caught in a storm, speculation about the duke's sudden attention on the seemingly insignificant Cerys Aldridge.

Azrael made his way toward her, each step measured, his focus unwavering but the attention that she assumed was on her had shifted to the person within her company. The crown prince greeted the Duke with a smile as they briefly engaged in conversation and Cerys felt her heart race in her chest at the thought of gaining the cruel duke’s attention.

The conversation between Azrael Blackwood, the Duke of Shadowmoor, and the Crown Prince was a study in contrasts. The Prince, with his easy charm and polite smile, seemed the very embodiment of royal grace. Azrael, on the other hand, exuded a cold, menacing aura that seemed to darken the air around him. His beauty was as undeniable as it was lethal, a seductive combination of danger and allure that held the room in thrall.

Cerys watched, transfixed, as the two men spoke. Their close relationship was well known, a powerful alliance between the crown and one of its most formidable nobles. Yet, despite the civility of their exchange, there was an undercurrent of tension, an electric charge that hinted at the complex dynamics at play beneath the surface.

The Crown Prince glanced her way, his gaze flickering to her with a flicker of recognition before returning to Azrael. It was then that Cerys realised the dangerous game she had inadvertently become a part of. The attention of these two powerful men, even if indirectly, placed her in a spotlight she neither sought nor desired.

"I trust you are enjoying the evening, my lady?" Azrael's voice cut through her thoughts, ice-cold yet smooth as silk. His focus had shifted from the Crown Prince to her, pinning her under a gaze that seemed to see straight through her defences.

Cerys swallowed, struggling to maintain her composure under his scrutiny. "It is a... remarkable event, my lord. The Goldenbloom estate is as splendid as the rumours suggest."

Azrael's lips twitched in what could almost be considered a smile, but there was no warmth in it. "Splendour can often be a mask for decay," he remarked cryptically. "Remember that, my lady."

Before Cerys could ponder the meaning behind his words, the Crown Prince intervened, his tone light, yet carrying an edge of caution. "Duke Blackwood always enjoys his metaphors. Pay him no mind. Tonight is a celebration, after all."

Azrael's gaze lingered on Cerys for a moment longer, a silent challenge in his eyes before he nodded to the Crown Prince and melted back into the crowd, leaving a trail of whispered speculation in his wake.

The Crown Prince turned to her, his expression one of gentle concern. "I hope the Duke did not unsettle you. He can be... intense."

Cerys managed a smile, though her heart was still racing. "I am quite all right, Your Highness. Thank you for your concern."