Eliott paced in his room, running today's event in his head for the millionth time. From the door, he could feel Sir Geoffer's agitation bleeding off his shoulders, feeding off Eliott's own. Today marked the start of the monarchy officially announcing that he was looking for a wife and the future queen of the kingdom.

As much as it was a lot of pressure to the young, unwed ladies who's going to show up today and in the succeeding galas in the following years, Eliott was under a greater force bearing down on him. Unlike the girls who only had to impress him, the court, and the King, Eliott was supposed to gauge a woman based on her wit, her intelligence, and her capacity to rule. And he's supposed to do it while dressed in stiff uniforms inside a ballroom filled with people vying for his attention.

But they had a plan. At least, Eliott and Geoffer had. This time, he thought it wiser to consult the affairs manager for this risky plan he's going to execute. Yes, they're going to proceed with today's gala but it would be the last one. Provided she showed up. Provided a number of things would go well.

He glanced at the clock slotted on the wall. The hands told him it was somewhere inside Four Pondiem. Just a few more minutes and he would be called to the ballroom, the doors to it would open, and the gala would start.

"Try to calm down, Your Grace," Geoffer advised from the door.

Eliott resisted to roll his eyes at the man. Of course, he could calm down at this rate. Only his future and the kingdom's were at risk here.

The door swung open and a black-coated soldier burst inside. He was red all over the face, like he ran all the way from the walls or the front gates. "She's here, Your Grace," he reported, straightening his spine and placing his fingers next to his eyebrow in a salute. "Shall I send her up?"

Eliott screeched to a stop before changing directions and striding towards the door. Sir Geoffer had already slipped behind the soldier. "There's no need for that, Officer," he said. "I'll go and meet with the ladies. Good work as always."

As they tore down the ornate corridors of the east wing where his rooms were, Eliott's heart thundered against his chest and pounded against his temples. This was it. If she showed up, then, already half of their plan had gone well. Now, it was up to Eliott to execute the rest.

Eliott swung into the stairs leading to the largest ballroom in the castle. His soles tapped lightly against the marble steps. By the time he reached the tall but thin doors leading to the ballroom, his chest felt like it was about to explode. His breathing was quite wrong.

"Okay," he heaved a breath in. And out. A shadow fell into step beside him. Must be Sir Geoffer. He was forever grateful for the man's quiet presence even though he could be stern and uptight most of the time. "I can do this. I can do this."

He glanced at the attendants flanking the door and gave them a brief nod. The sound of hinges cranking and creaking filled the room. Soon, he was staring down the spacious room filled with arrays of carts and long tables covered with pristine tablecloths, exquisite dishes and pastries from the best restaurants of the empire, and the smell of freshly-scrubbed marble floor.

Bejeweled chandeliers hung from the ceiling like suspended teardrops, casting a warm amber glow over the whole room. Velvet curtains were drawn back, revealing the ornate glass paintings of birds, flowers, and natural landscapes in each arched window lining the western and the eastern wall. Bright murals of clouds and of conquests of old towered over him from the domed ceiling.

Music from a string ensemble playing at the corner closest to him from the left floated around in lazy tones, the acoustics picking them up and flinging them into the vast expanse in haunting waves.

Eliott tackled the short stairs leading to the flat ground. A strip of red carpet paved his way from the landing towards another set of doors. This one led straight to the western yard, the place where the ladies were told to wait before they were admitted into the gala. With another nod to the black-coated soldiers tasked to man the doors, they began pulling them back. Light from the outside filtered past the widening gaps, bathing the room in a brighter shine than what the chandeliers could provide.

Styled heads turned to him at the groan of the doors swinging inside. Eliott swallowed the growing lump in his throat and stepped forward. A voice belonging to the herald rang across the foyer. "Presenting the Crown Prince of the Lezeris Empire, enter Eliott je Clair."

Excited chatter exploded into a chaotic chorus. A swirl of bodies and voices wrapped around Eliott like a steel grip. He stepped back and welcomed the swarm of bodies and a mixture of fragrances splashed over each one of them. When he reached the base of the stairs on the opposite side of the ballroom, Sir Geoffer was waiting for him with his hands clasped behind him.

"Anything on her yet?" Eliott asked, scanning the blaze of glitter, silk, and faces bombarding his immediate periphery.

Sir Geoffer's eyebrows were creased. "I'm trying, Your Highness," he said. "First galas are always packed. There are a lot of hopefuls, especially this season."

Was Eliott supposed to feel better about that? If anything, all he felt was guilt. It seemed like he would just waste the ladies' time today. But hey, let him hope the food was something they'd enjoy more than a lifetime stuck with him.

Then, a sliver of menacing whispers reached his ear. He turned to a small circle of girls dressed in almost a similar manner of bell-shaped sleeves and tight corsets. Their dresses were hewed from the same type of fabric with just the dyes different. He also had never seen such voluminous skirts in all his life. Did they think clothes would increase their chances? Wow.

He watched them, noting their frowns and their eyes flicking towards a certain direction every now and then. What were they talking about? Rather, who? He followed their gaze and his eyes landed on a familiar figure striding around the ballroom. His heart stopped.

There she was.

All the other faces paled in comparison to hers. Her dress, despite being simple and in monotonic gray, stole his attention from all the sparkle around him. Her bright red hair was piled atop her head in an intricate weaving of braids and flowers. She looked like one of the goddesses depicted from the old fae myths. Her emerald eyes, despite being quite a distance away from him, had never been so bright.

And her wings...gods. They were a real showstopper. Instead of being hidden under a cloak or something, they were folded behind her, making her a head taller than everyone despite the high-heeled slippers. Her horns appeared to also be dusted with a light layer of shimmer.

Something shuffled in his periphery, causing a hushed silence falling over the crowd. That must have been the King. Minutes passed, with his father probably addressing the trapped audience about the purpose of this ceremony and tonight's goal. Eliott didn't know what else was happening around him, just that Edge stood beside one of the food tables, happily nibbling against a pastry with pink jam slathered all over it.

Then, the silence spell broke and the crowd turned lively once more. The music resumed playing, marking the end of the King's speech and the start of Eliott's gala. He was supposed to take his time choosing a dance partner in opening the first dance of the night but he only ever had his eyes on one person in this vast place filled to the brim.

He felt eyes follow his wake, stabbing him in the back and roving all over his body. Voices rose to a crescendo when they slowly came to a conclusion about his destination. The last bit of pastry didn't quite reach Edge's mouth when Eliott offered his hand to her.

"Care to dance, my lady?" Eliott winked at her. This was just like all the secret nights he spent with her. This time, instead of the bright moon and the witness of a million stars, their audience were nothing but hateful eyes and questioning looks.

Edge smiled and set her unfinished pastry on the table. "With pleasure, Your Highness," she answered.

Then, as she slid her hand over his and as he led her to the center of the room with the crowd parting like errant waves, everything faded. Within seconds, his hand rested on her waist and hers clasped his arm as softly as a brush of the wind. Just like how they practiced in the small room with a bell in the middle, he began swaying. And like how it went on during those cold, windy nights, he led and she followed. Sometimes, she pulled against his hold to tease him.

Nothing else mattered. There wasn't anyone in this room other than the two of them, dancing with the music of their own hearts. A soft buzz rang in Eliott's ears but he couldn't tell what they're saying. It was just him and Edge. Just them.

He lost sense of time. Edge didn't look like she was bored even after he had twirled and dipped her countless moments. The music kept on playing. They kept dancing. If the heaven the Palendral preached existed, maybe this was it. It was bright and hazy at the same time. Glorious with no hint of sadness or terror. Everything was as it should be.

This was heaven. And Eliott couldn't wait to never drop away from it.

After quite some time, he paused mid-swing, stopping Edge with a careful grip on her shoulders.

"What's wrong?" Edge raised her eyes at him. They were so full of questions, ones he wasn't sure if he could answer with his tongue in knots inside his mouth.

He was supposed to wait until the guests had mellowed down or had drunk enough wine. Then, he would sneak with Edge into the center garden. And under the watchful gaze of the moon and the stars and behind the veil of the darkness, he would ask her.

But he wouldn't bear to wait. Not anymore. He had been waiting for all his life for the chance to do this. What's being early for a few hours going to do?

"Edge, you have no idea how much you mean to me," Eliott whispered. The music continued playing even though the main dancers in the middle of the cacophony of synchronous movements have stopped. "You have found me and I couldn't have been more thankful than that. You brought me joy—more than I could ever ask for or deserve. You're my everything, Edge. So, now I ask you this question."

Slowly, he dug for the ring inside his pockets and sank to one knee. All around them, everything lurched into a stop. He was suddenly aware of the thousand eyes trained on him. Unspoken questions and exasperated gasps filled the pockets of silence arising from the crowd. Still, Eliott gazed up at Edge who must have gotten what was going to happen next because mist started clouding her green eyes.

"Edge, I'm building a paradise," Eliott said. "Will you join me in it?"

Tears slipped from her eyes. She cupped her mouth with her hand, muffling her sobs. "Eliott, what..." she swiped against her eyes and sniffed. "Yes."

Eliottt blinked. Did he...did he do it?

She bobbed her head even as her face was contorted by her sobs. "Yes," she said again. "I'll help you complete that paradise."

Eliott never practiced any of this before but until the moment he slipped the ring in Edge's finger, he felt like he had a whole lifetime running it over in his head. Because it was perfect. All of this was too perfect

As a summary, the plan worked. Even though Eliott took a massive detour, the plan worked. Should he thank fate or any of the gods? As he straightened and embraced Edge, he smiled against the crook of her neck. That didn't matter now, did it? It took a damn long time for him to wrap his arms around the woman he had been looking for all his life.

And now, not even fate nor the gods could take her away from him. This time, he'd be sure to not let go.