His expression was hard as stone, carved and unyielding. "Do you not have eyes?" he said coldly. "Or have they failed you when you needed them most?"
I froze.
How dare he speak to me in such a manner? Had he no respect for a woman? I was well aware that it was partially my fault, I had not been watching where I was going. But neither had he, else we would not have collided as we did, and I would not be sitting upon the cold stone like some careless child.
The least he could have done was offer his hand.
Heat rushed to my cheeks, not from embarrassment this time, but indignation. "Have you no brain," I retorted sharply, "or does it fail you as easily as your courtesy?"
His eyes darkened at once.
For a fleeting moment, I wondered if I had overstepped. But the thought passed as quickly as it came. I would not be spoken to like some careless servant.
He took a slow step toward me. "Careful," he said quietly, though the softness in his tone carried more warning than a shout ever could.
My chin lifted despite the fact that I was still seated most ungracefully upon the ground. "Careful?" I repeated. "You insult me, yet I must be careful?"
A muscle ticked in his jaw. The night air felt heavier between us, charged with something I could not name.
"You walked into me," he replied evenly.
"And you stood like a wall in the middle of a path," I shot back. "Walls are usually built at the side, not in one's way."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between us. The distant music from the hall drifted faintly into the air, a mockery of the tension coiling here in the quiet courtyard.
His gaze dropped briefly to where I still sat upon the stone.
Then, at last, he extended his hand toward me.
I stared at it for a moment, stunned. Why was he offering it now? Did guilt finally prick his pride? Or was this some silent attempt to mend the insult he had so carelessly thrown at me?
After a breath's hesitation, I forced myself to place my hand in his.
His grip was firm. His fingers wrapped around mine with a strength that startled me, and in one swift motion he pulled me halfway to my feet.
For a fleeting second, I thought he meant to steady me.
But just as I found my balance, he let go. Abruptly.
I fell harder than before, landing squarely upon my poor, already wounded backside. A sharper sting shot through me, and I gasped, both from the pain and the humiliation of it.
For a heartbeat, I could not even speak.
Did he just…
Rage flared hotter than the ache in my bones.
I stared up at him in utter disbelief. "You insolent!" I stopped myself only to draw a sharp breath. "Are you mad?"
I pushed myself up slightly, wincing at the sting. "What manner of upbringing teaches a man to offer his hand only to cast a lady back to the ground?"
My voice rose despite my efforts to restrain it. "If this is your idea of jest, then I assure you, sir, it is a poor one."
He did not move. He simply stood there, looking down at me as though I were a puzzle he had no patience to solve.
"You think yourself amusing?" I continued, heat burning in my cheeks. "Or powerful? Because you are neither. You are merely ill-mannered."
I gathered my gown in my fists, attempting to rise on my own this time. "I would rather remain on this cold stone than accept help from a man who does not understand the meaning of honor."
He tilted his head at me, as if weighing my words. Then a smirk tugged at his lips, exposing the faint glint of fangs.
Without a word, he walked past me, moving with a grace that made him seem untouchable, as though I were nothing more than air, something to be ignored.
I stood up angrily, my fists clutching the folds of my gown. My cheeks burned, not from the cold stone beneath me, but from the sting of his insolence. How dare he treat me as though I were nothing?
My eyes followed him as he disappeared into the hall, his presence lingering like a shadow I could not shake. Every fiber of me wanted to call after him, to demand he recognize the woman he had almost knocked to the ground, but my pride held my tongue.
I pressed my lips together, forcing back the tremor of irritation.
I pressed my lips together, forcing back the tremor of irritation that burned through me.
At least I had given him a piece of my mind.
I dusted my gown carefully, trying not to think of how his sharp, careless smirk had made the air around me feel colder. Slowly, I made my way back toward the ballroom, unwilling to linger any longer in the cold courtyard where his shadow still seemed to linger.
Inside, Mother and Ariel stood together, their conversation paused as they noticed me. I approached them, keeping my shoulders straight despite the flutter of unease in my chest.
"Where were you?" Mother asked, her voice laced with concern. Her eyes searched mine as though she could see every fleeting thought I tried to hide.
"I… I just needed some air," I said softly, forcing calm into my voice. My fingers twitched at the folds of my gown, betraying the steadiness I tried to show.
Mother's gaze softened, but the worry did not leave her face. "You are trembling, my dear. Did something happen?"
I shook my head quickly, unwilling to tell her of the ill-mannered man with the shifting red eyes. "No, nothing of importance, Mama. Just… the night is… overwhelming."
Just then, a man, dressed with the bearing and authority of a seasoned general, stepped deliberately into the center of the room.
The music faltered and died, the dancers froze mid-step, and every eye in the hall turned toward him. His presence alone demanded attention, and the chatter of the crowd fell into a hushed silence.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his voice cutting through the murmurs like steel. "I believe we all know the reason this ball has been held?"
Murmurs rippled through the hall, but none dared speak above him.
"Tonight is the night of the prince's bride selection," he continued, his eyes sweeping over the assembled maidens. "And I must say… every maiden has dressed herself with great care. Though, I trust that beauty alone does not a choice make."
The hall fell quieter, the compliment tasting faintly of insult, and even from where I stood I could feel the subtle sting behind his words.
"That is why, on this precious night," he continued, "you will learn that the bride selection is not as simple as you imagine."