The dancing girl across the party slipped on a puddle of champagne and fell face-first into the table of empty glass flutes. She didn't scream as she fell. Instead, she got up with the grace of a tightrope artist, completely unscathed except for a gash on her arm.

The blood slowly dripped crimson from her light bronze skin. She searched for something to stanch the bleeding, and I found myself setting aside my wine and moving toward her.

She pulled at the comb holding her coiffed midnight hair, releasing a gauzy veil. Her dark curls spilled down her shoulders gracefully. She wrapped the diaphanous material around her arm, but it did little to hide the blood.

I approached her slowly as if not to scare her. I'd heard that a diplomat from Estavan had arrived this morning, but I hadn't seen her. Usually, anyone pretending to be anyone showed up for my parties anyhow.

My eyes caught on the puddle of amber champagne, and my heart tightened. I'd told the servants to stop serving it weeks ago, but they must have run out of other liquor in their attempt to keep the endless party going.

Stepping over the sticky pool, I moved closer to the girl. She adjusted her tunic and wiped at the champagne staining her loose silk pants. Her caramel eyes met mine, and her rosy lips pursed.

"Are you all right, Miss?" I asked.

She looked me up and down. "Why would you care?"

"You took a tumble," I said, pulling my handkerchief from the pocket of my fine waistcoat. "Here, this should help stop the bleeding better than your veil."

She begrudgingly took the handkerchief from my hand and wrapped it around her arm. The bloody veil fell to the ground, both forgotten and utterly ruined.

"Thank you," she said.

"I'd be a bad party host if I refused aid," I said.

Her eyes grew wide. "So, you're the elusive Prince Jacques Estrella, host of the ceaseless party I've heard so much about. I didn't peg you for the party's illustrious host when I saw you sulking into a glass of wine in the corner earlier."

So, she had seen me. "Most here know me. Every night the party continues, though, I've considered ending it."

"Ending the party that's gone on so long its legends reached the shores of Estavan?" The girl laughed. "Your people would not like that. They come here each night to enjoy this rabble of music and spirits. You might cause a riot."

"These people can riot for all I care," I said as I gazed at the girl. "I throw the parties because I bore of our slothful court."

Ever since Xiera had taken over after my grandfather died six years ago, something noxious had slithered into the court. The nobles filled their pockets. The poor grew destitute, and yet no aid came from the palace.

The very thought of Xiera was chilling. I refused to think of her as my grandmother. She wasn't the maternal type. She was more like a manipulative toddler giving orders.

The court nauseated me. The never-ending party at my apartment wasn't even a distraction anymore. It just made my own quarters feel less like home every night until I barely recognized it.

"You could leave," the girl said.

"I was planning on it," I said. "I've been trying to work up the courage to talk to Xiera for weeks now, but I keep being blinded by the party and the wine."

"Well, I destroyed the table of drinks," the girl said. "That solves half your problems. And you could come with me and leave the party."

The invitation was there and open. She was a beautiful girl. Most women I'd met from Estavan were. They carried them with a sense of pride and strength she imbued.

"What is your name?" I asked the distraction in front of me.

"Azalea Malick," she said. "Princess of the Isle of Estavan."

She wasn't just any diplomat then. Estavan had sent their princess into our land of horrors. I knew little of Princess Azalea Malick. Her brother had courted Princess Casandrina of Kylea, but the proposal had fallen through.

Azalea watched me with scrutiny. I had a feeling she knew all about my attempt to marry Princess Casandrina myself under the misguided influence of my aunt. One of my great shames that led me here to wine and endless dancing.

"You're a long way from home," I said. "I hear it's like torture for your people to leave your country."

Azalea's perfect smile cracked just a little. "It is true our connection with the land is sacred. Being away is rather like losing feeling in one's hand and being unable to get it back until you return."

I'd always secretly wanted to visit the jungled island, craving to know what made its people so fiercely loyal to the land.

Maybe it was just because I was missing a connection in my own life. Nothing I'd done since I was seventeen had any real meaning.

"What do you miss?" She asked. "You have that same ache in your eyes I do when I think of home."

My gaze dropped to avoid her seeing that ache she'd seen so clearly until it locked on the amber champagne on the floor.

I moved my foot to cover the champagne, not caring that the sticky liquid would ruin the fine leather. Pushing all the memories flooding my mind when I saw that shade of amber, I chose instead to look Azalea in the eye once again.

"I was in love once," I admitted. "It was taken from me."

Azalea glanced down at her polished nails stained with a dark red dye. "I'm sorry. That is regrettable."

"Xiera slaughtered the only woman I ever loved on our wedding night," I said.

The blood dripped through my handkerchief, blooming on the floor beside the bubbling amber. That brought me back to Azalea.

"Come with me," I said before I could get caught up in the horrors of the happiest and worst day of my life. "Let's clean up your arm for real this time."

I led her into the back of the apartment towards the kitchen, where a dozen servants kept the party going by baking tarts and pouring more glasses of liquor. Waving off the servant approaching me, I grabbed a bottle of alcohol and the kit from under the sink the servants used for knife cuts.

We walked into the very back of the apartment. I took a key from around my neck to unlock a door. Azalea followed me into the room, and the silence slammed over us as the door shut behind us.

"It's soundproofed," she said.

My bedroom was unimpressive, and I preferred to avoid sleeping there. There were too many memories, even with the distance of time.

Her gaze fell on the single bed that was pushed against one wall. Her expression was crestfallen as she sat on the edge of it, and she removed the saturated handkerchief from her arm.

The cut was deeper than I initially thought. I opened the aid kit and poured alcohol on a cotton pad. She hissed as I sponged at the wound.

"Sorry," I murmured. "You'll need stitches."

She nodded and gripped her knuckles until they turned white. I threaded a needle from the aid kit with shaking hands.

"Do you know what you're doing?" She asked.

I could hear the gods laughing as the ghost of my former love whispered. "Aren't you glad I taught you to sew just a little, Jacques?"

Shaking off the haunting apparition, I held Azalea's arm in place with a tender but firm grip so I wouldn't hurt her, but she couldn't squirm. "Stay still."

"Tell me," Azalea's breathing was uneven as the needle pierced her flesh. "What was it like to be in love?"

Considering my answer, I pulled the first stitch through. "Donika lit up a room when she entered. You could always spot her hair in a crowd."

Pausing, I remembered all the times I'd rung my fingers through that amber hair in dark corners of parties so our sweet kisses wouldn't be caught by the other nobles.

"Donika," Azalea tested the name on her lips. "I don't remember that name when I was studying your court."

I pulled the needle through her skin again. She didn't watch my hands or the needle piercing her flesh but instead looked into my eyes.

"Donika was a peasant contracted to the palace," I said. "From the Plou Province. We were about the same age, and she was the only sweet thing after my grandfather was poisoned."

Donika knew exactly what I needed. In the depths of darkness, she shone like the north star on a pitch night. I knew being a part of the royal family meant being better, but somehow, Donika was my superior in spirit and attitude.

"You fell in love with her," Azalea said.

There were only two stitches left to go. My needle plunged down, and I nodded. Except it was more than that.

"I married her before her village elder," I said. "I don't know how Xiera found out. I told no one of my plans. Still there she was in our wedding chamber after the ceremony with a serrated knife."

The last stitch stared me in the face as Azalea's arm tensed. My fingers stroked her arm to soothe her, and I continued the final stitch and my story.

"Her guards held me in place, and she slit Donika's throat herself," I said. "I begged her to kill me. She killed the guards because they were witnesses and then laughed at my request."

Trying off the stitches, I let go of Azalea's arm. There were tears in her eyes. She reached up to wipe them away.

"I am so sorry," she said, looking down at her cleanly stitched arm. "And thank you."

"Slow down, princess," I said, pulling a roll of cotton from the aid kit. "We still need to bandage it."

"Xiera should take a permanent vacation," Azalea said. "I came to assess her thoughts towards diplomacy. You might say it didn't go well. She practically threw me out of her throne room this morning when I arrived and asked for an audience."

That sounded like the audacity of Xiera. Wrapping her arm snuggly in the white cotton, I secured the bandage. She flexed her arm and inspected my work.

"Not bad for a grandson of Xiera," she smiled. "How long until the party dies down?"

"Most people go home in a few hours," I said. "Those that are too inebriated to go home are always welcome to stay. I never stop the party. That's why they say it's ceaseless."

I found myself staring at her lips. It had been a long time since I'd even been remotely enamored by any girl and yet tonight, I was spending all my attention on this broken little princess who wrecked my liquor table instead of nursing a glass of fermented grapes in my favorite corner.

She leaned in ever so slightly, and her lips parted ever so slightly. I could smell the sweet champagne on her breath mixed with strawberry. Then she abruptly pulled away and stood.

"I shouldn't monopolize your time," she said. "Thank you for your assistance."

"You don't have to go," I found myself begging for her to stay.

"This is your renowned extravaganza, and I've stolen you from your host duties," she almost looked as if she was blushing. "And for that, you have my apologies and my gratitude."

I stood, and my body stood between her and the door. She crossed her bandaged arm over her good one and raised an eyebrow.

"I won't stay in this room all night with you," she said. "That is highly improper and likely would irritate Xiera."

She was likely picturing herself under the mercy of Xiera's knife since I'd only just told her the story of my slaughtered lover. Feeling foolish, I scratched the back of my neck as if it might find another way to get her to stay.

Then it came to me. "Have you seen the balcony?"

"The balcony?" She frowned.

"Best view in the city," I reached for her arm. "I promise you won't regret it."

She allowed me to take her hand as I led her out of my room. The explosion of sound from the party after the deafening silence of my room made my ears ache. Azalea said something, but I could only make out her lips moving over the pounding music.

I led her off to the side of the main room and out a sliding glass door onto a metal balcony that looked like a basket grafted on the side of the building.

Donika loved the view of the stars from the balcony. Based on Azalea's gasp, she was realizing how beautiful the smattering of bright stars were thrown across the dark void above like paint on a canvas.

"It's like glorious fairy dust," she said. "Twinkling down on us."

"I come out here often," I admitted. "Whenever I consider ending the party. Somehow though, I always go back inside, and it continues."

"Are you considering shutting it down again?" Azalea asked. "What's stopping you?"

I laughed. Xiera said I was avoiding my duty to Slavinth. I had a feeling she only let my party carry on out of guilt for the murder of my wife. It was a perfect cover for my grief. I could drink as much as I wanted, and no one was the wiser.

"Once it ends, I never get her back," I said. "Even if I feel alone at my party, I know she's there in spirit. We always hid our relationship in dark corners of parties."

"And now you wallow in those corners," Azalea nodded. "I'll ask you again. What's really stopping you?"

"I don't know what my future holds," I said.

The other nights I'd stood on this terrace and considered finishing the party, I'd thought it was because I'd visit Xiera and ask for a diplomatic marriage arranged and far away. Maybe then, with distance, I could forget.

"Well," Azalea said. "Neither do I. My brother always says to go after your own destiny and build it with what you have."

I frowned. "So, what do you have?"

Azalea smiled again. "Right now, an airship and the seal of approval to be Estavan's official ambassador. We will see where that takes me. Thus far, it brought me here to your party. Personally, I think it was the right place to be tonight."

What did I have? There was my title. I had an apartment that was trashed from a perpetual party and access to the royal treasury. It didn't seem like much to build my future, but maybe Azalea was right.

"I also have an extra bed on the airship," Azalea said. "If you're interested. My brother says the best friends are the ones you make on the way."

And I had an invitation from a princess. Perhaps I could build a future with the pieces left behind from Donika's death. A future without Xiera looming over my shoulder and a feisty friend by my side. The possibilities were working through my head so fast that I almost missed the servant approaching me.

"Master Jacques," Claude said. "We've had to open a new keg of wine for the evening."

I smiled at Claude for the first time in a long time. "Claude, I've decided to shut down the party."

"Are you certain that is your desire, master?" Claude looked alarmed. "Have you had too much to drink tonight? Should I call for the healer?"

"No," I said. "I am quite certain in my decision. Have the rabble out by dawn if you please."

Claude bobbled his head and walked back into the apartment, stunned. He whispered the news to another servant, and I saw the servant shake his head.

I turned back to Azalea. She was still looking at the stars beaming. I moved back next to her and looked out at the glistening lights wondering if my future was just as bright as Azalea's smile.

Hey Friends!! I wrote this after I did an exercise where I had to write a compelling first line. This was a challenging short story because I love having lots and lots of characters, and the majority of this short was devoted to two people in a small space. I like Azalea as a character, and there's more to do with her and Jaques, but first, I'm going to spend a little bit more time with Leith and her family in the next story. Let me know what you think!

---- Eliana