Their walk to the ballroom was uneventful. It was when they reached the hallway before the magnificent, double doors, that Iliana's heart caught in her throat.

"You'll enter separately."

The words skewered her chest with unreasonable anxiety. If she entered on her own, she knew what everyone present would see.

A siren--beautiful, and drawing in their eyes--with the mark of Zuher on her chest. She would become a belonging in their eyes before she'd said a word.

It was selfish of her, but she'd hoped that entering with Del would detract from that. Del was a prince. Who would care about Zuher's toy, when the crown prince of Cieon was present? But, that wouldn't be possible.

Seeming to sense Iliana's fear, Del held her arm a moment longer, eyes catching hers. "Don't worry. I'll only be a moment behind."

Drawing in a deep breath to steady herself, Iliana nodded. Del smiled, before releasing her and stepping away. Aria waved at the guards outside the double doors, and both were drawn back, baring the ballroom for her study.

In any other situation, she would have been awestruck.

It was richer than any hall she had ever seen. Twinkling gemlights dangled from a gold painted ceiling, illuminating a giant, two-story room. The balcony level was visible from where she stood--stretching out either side of the giant staircase her position overlooked. Tassels of bright crimson dangled from each rail, brushing the floor of the lower level and creating an illusion of privacy to whatever laid beyond.

The far wall was dominated by yet another, giant staircase that led up to a magnificent, gold-crested, onyx throne. A level below it sat several, simpler chairs, no doubt readied for visiting dignitaries, as there were no other royals that Iliana knew of.

As Iliana's attention shifted to the people--gods, how hard they stared in return--she realized they were just as enchanting as the room itself. Magnificent gowns of varying styles, and colors, lit the room as bright as any light. There were the heavy, bulky dresses of Letia, the scandalous, thigh-height skirts of Eol, even the simple, thin, ankle-length gowns of Aeolis packed between noblemen covered in dull two-piece or flashy three piece suits.

"Lady Iliana of Zuher."

She shuddered as her arrival sent whispers sweeping through the crowd.

"That's the one, isn't it?"

"--eye-catching enough. Still, I expected something ethereal."

"His Imperial Majesty must be pleased--"

Unwilling to give into their gazes, Iliana held her head high as she grasped her skirts, and descended into the ballroom. Her hands trembled into the fabric, but at least her steps were graceful. Gossip continued to reach her ears, but she refused to let it hold her attention. She would not lose so easily.

At the base of the stairs, she stilled. Emerging from the crowd, a pleased smirk on his lips, was Zuher. As always, he seemed to be a perfectly styled mess. His black hair fell in a chaotic manner, as if he'd just been running his fingers through it, and the deep crimson dress-shirt beneath his black tailcoat lacked two of the top buttons. But, it suited him.

She hated it. And she hated how he walked towards her, and offered his arm with an expectant smile.

"Shall we, Pet?"

Everything in her screamed to stay away. To ask to walk without touching him. But, they were in front of a crowd. Iliana held no illusions about being punished if she refused to take his arm. Memory of Lykos' state in the tower forced her into action, and she laid her hand lightly on his elbow, ignoring how even that indirect touch seemed to pull something from the tips of her fingers.

It hurt.

Zuher laughed.

"Isn't she lovely?" he asked the room.

Murmurs of agreement echoed his words. A few brave souls voiced words of praise that buzzed meaninglessly through Iliana's hazy mind. Zuher pulled her across the floor, and somehow, miraculously, Iliana managed the walk without falling. Then, at the base of the stairs, he released her arm and strode up to his throne. Her legs trembled as he turned to face her, then settled into it. He crossed his legs, before his dark gaze dropped to where Iliana still stood, waiting.

She stiffened, drawing to her full height beneath his musing smile.

"Why don't you sit, pet?" he questioned.

She hesitated, eyeing the less elevated seating. Would he be content with her taking one of those positions? Had she been wrong in guessing their owners? Iliana took a few hesitant steps, before stilling as Zuher clicked his tongue. She glanced up, reading the reproach in the noise.

"Not there," he scolded. "You've a much higher seat. You understand, don't you?"

Irritation bubbled within her chest, and she beat back the sharp question that graced the tip of her tongue. It took all of Iliana's fraying control to shake her head. He grinned, drawing Iliana's gaze to his sharp, pointed canines.

"Pets sit at their owners feet."

Iliana's heart stopped as her skirts slipped from her trembling fingers.

It was a line in the sand.

Like with his arm, she could choose to ignore his instruction. That would mean, however, she was refusing her role. Refusing him.

Over the last few weeks, Zuher had made his intentions clear. He planned on breaking her spirit, and it seemed he intended on starting with her pride. Accepting the rather clear instruction to settle at his feet like a hound would be admitting defeat. He was testing how far that had gone. She had refused, before, at dinner. And it had been a small crowd, then.

If she accepted now, she was giving up that little control, in front of what was no doubt a crowd of the most powerful people in Reotak.

But, refusing something like this, it was ingrained into her. Iliana was proud. She didn't balk at a challenge. She argued, she fought, and then she faced it. It was how she'd lived since escaping Kyril's thumb. She'd sworn to herself, then, that she would never fail that side of herself ever again.

The alternative to breaking, however, sent a chill to her very core.

He would have no qualms sending her back to her cell, sans Del, be it now, or when the party died. Darkness would coat the cold stone like a blanket. And, perhaps he would decide that her skin didn't matter all that much. He had a witch. He could string her up like Lykos, leaving her struggling to breathe as her feet scrambled for even the faintest grip against smooth stone.

Iliana's palms broke out in a sweat at the mere thought of sitting through another night in the pitch black. Her head swum with the idea of the collar.

She feared that tower with every part of her being.

She couldn't go back.

But she couldn't give in.

A throat cleared behind her. Irritation flashed in Zehur's eyes, but it was quickly wiped away as he studied the individual that'd managed to sneak up during Iliana's inner panic. She spun around, and was relieved to discover Del.

His usual concern was missing from his expression. Instead, his lips were twisted into a cheeky, challenging smile as his eyes slipped past her to Zuher. She shuddered at the idea of what he might be earning himself with that look alone.

"Would you care to dance?"

Iliana could only stare as Del extended his hand and slipped into the shallow bow of a gentleman.

He was offering her an escape. A compromise, of sorts.

Zuher wished Del to grow attached to her, and Iliana to him. He planned on using his two prizes to control the other. It was the only reason she could think of that he continued to throw them together. Del's action played into the emperor's wishes, and therefore conflicted with the stark rebellion that came with accepting his hand. She likely wouldn't get punished for it.

But, what would happen to him?

Was it worth rejecting her pride, if it meant protecting his neck? Obviously. But, at this point, would he receive the punishment whether she took it or not?

"It's rude to leave a prince waiting," Zuher announced. "Mind your manners, Pet."

Iliana sucked in a breath. He sounded annoyed. She could imagine the body language that came with it. Zuher would be tapping his fingers along the arm of his throne, he had a habit of doing that in his office whenever his paperwork irritated him. His eyes would dig into the back of her head, lips pursed.

He was already mad.

"I would love nothing more."

Del's face lit up in a brilliant smile, one that seemed at odds with their current situation. Still, as she laid her hand in his, she couldn't regret the choice. If they were going to be punished whether she took this chance with him, or whether she lowered herself to Zuher's side, she would take Del. Always Del.

As he led her out to the dancefloor, a space cleared just for them. Iliana was under no illusions that it was in her imagination. She could feel Zuher's eyes burning into her back, no one would want to get in his way while she was on the floor. They likely valued their lives more than that.

The previous song fell away, and after a moment's pause, the musicians shifted into the next. The soft rise of the familiar notes eased anxiety from Iliana's shoulders. The waltz. A dance she knew well, even if the steps Del had walked her through for Reotak were a bit different.

Del pulled their hands between them. He slipped into a shallow bow once again, lips lightly brushing the back of her hand, before he shifted their grip, pulling their hands next to their shoulder. She drew in a deep breath, fighting to keep heat from her face as she placed her free hand on his shoulder, and Del laid his at the small of her back. Fates. The waltz. Why had she been grateful for it again?

The proper note touched the air, and they began to move. The steps felt like second nature, even if she had only learned half of them the day before. It left her mind with too much room to think.

Del's hand on her waist. His attention on her. The brush of her skirts against his suit. The eyes of the public. The gentle tightening of their fingers as he shifted them through a turn, before releasing her so they could open their dance. Each detail sunk into her mind, burning into her memory with a thrilling, unfamiliar heat.

One dance bled into another, one that pushed them closer. Her heart rose with the beat of the music as Del's hand shifted lower, settling on the curve of her hip.

"They're watching us," Iliana murmured when she could take it no longer. If she stayed silent, with nothing but their bodies to focus on, she would go mad. Or her heart would burst. Whichever came first.

Del's smile grew. "Of course."

He led her through a spin beneath his arm, that hand leaving her hip for but a moment, before his body pressed close to hers once again.

"The people love beautiful things, Iliana."

She had nothing to say to that.

That dance, too, eventually drew to an end. It left her breathless, and heated, but somehow sane. The music picked up once again, and it looked like Del would lead her into another, but the touch of a hand to her shoulder stalled their steps. Tension wrinkled Del's expression as he stepped away, hand still grasping hers. A touch of fear flicked into her heart at the look in his eyes.

She wasn't sure whether to be relieved, or worried, when she looked over her shoulder and spied Nicolet offering them the faintest, polite smile.

"It would be in poor taste to keep the lady all to yourself at her first ball, Your Highness."

Iliana wanted nothing but to tell Nicolet where to shove his consideration. But, that seemed unwise, so she gave Del the faintest shake of her head when it looked like he might argue. He pursed his lips, but gave a shallow incline of his head, before releasing her hand.

"I suppose you make a point, Duke," Del replied. "I sometimes forget to tame my impulses. Selfishness is in the blood for royalty, you understand."

If Nicolet caught the hidden barb, he didn't show it. Instead, he held his hand for Iliana to take. She forced herself to lay her fingers in his, ignoring the chill of the touch as he pulled her a step away, his free hand falling to the small of her back.

"I'm afraid the song has already started, dear prince. If you want my attention, we can dance after. I'll give you my sole attention, then."

Was Nicolet flirting? With Del?

Iliana's expression must have shown her bafflement, because the duke laughed as he swept her through a series of somewhat familiar steps.

"Sorry, was I stepping on unwelcome territory?" he questioned.

"I just--He's a prince. Of Cieon," Iliana pointed out.

"And?" Nicolet questioned in turn. "I'm a duke. Our stations can't be the issue."

"He's a prisoner."

"Not mine."

"Aren't you supposed to be with Zuher on all of this?" she demanded after a minute of silence. "Courting the enemy seems to go against that."

He didn't respond right away, instead simply leading her through several, intricate steps, with an unsurprising amount of grace. Then, finally, when they moved in the slow, last steps of the dance, he seemed to come to a decision, a light smile brushing his lips.

"Iliana, dear," he began, the pet name sounding nothing but patronizing on his lips. "There are many things you're going to need to learn to survive here. Not every passing remark is an attempt at courting, nor would further, more intimate steps be an attempt at treason. Sometimes, things are just for fun. Or intrigue."

The music drifted to an end, and Nicolet's lips dipped close to her ear.

"And you would be right that he wouldn't approve. But, something you seem to forget is that I am not his subject. Letia has nothing to lose, but everything to gain from a thriving prince."

Before Iliana could fully behold the treason in his words, Nicolet had released her hands, patted her cheek, and bid her farewell with a wave over his shoulder.

"Until next time."

A/N: Oh gosh, we've one chapter left before I lead into the first climax. Are you guys ready? I'm not.