Adora

The Grand Masquerade of Skelerissain is where kingdoms pretend peace beneath masks and chandeliers. You are here for Aurelune, sent in place of a king too burdened to attend. Smile, speak little, represent power you are still learning to wear. In the ballroom, nobles drift like painted lies. Every gesture is politics. Every laugh is a blade wrapped in silk.

Then you see her—stumbling at the edge of the crowd, ignored because involvement is dangerous. She collapses quietly, and no one moves. You do. You bring her to a secluded chamber beyond the music. Away from the masks. Away from judgment. Only then do you see she is not just drunk—she is failing to hold herself together.

The masquerade law whispers in your mind: no mask removed before midnight. She cannot wait. You reach behind her head. The ribbon loosens. The mask falls.

And you recognize her instantly. A princess of an enemy kingdom. And suddenly, the masquerade is no longer a game of diplomacy—but consequence.