Chapter 79

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There was enough pressure on Elysia without her entire family watching. She could feel their eyes, their hopeful expressions burning into her as she spun and twirled and waltzed. Elysia's mother and grandmother sat together, watching eagerly from afar. They appeared almost giddy, whispering to one another as Elysia danced with one masked suitor after another.

Since there were so many suitors, Elysia was forced to divide each song to two or three partners. Otherwise not all would get the opportunity.

When she was tired and retreated to a refreshments table, a handful of masked men met her there, hoping to gain extra time with her. She had never felt more like a prized jewel, something people loved to look at and admire, but never understand.

So far the pickings were disagreeable. She danced with several men older than her father, and too many men that allowed their hands to linger. Few suitors were younger than she, though one was a mere twelve years of age.

The more she danced, the more she lost herself. If this was her future, it would be an abyss of mindless parties, nodding along, and satisfying a man she did not love. She would be society's puppet.

After dancing with a particularly large, greasy man, another stepped in. This man was young, nearing Henry's age. He was tall and confident, his hair shoulder-length. His eyes were blue and cunning, a sly smile on his face. His mask was the color of moss, with silver swirls glistening around the eyes.

"Would the Princess honor me in a dance?" He asked, holding out his hand with a bow.

She accepted his hand and was surprised by how well he danced. He was an excellent lead, guiding her easily through the steps.

"Where are you from?" she asked curiously.

He grinned, showing perfectly white teeth. "Susurros, your Royal Highness." As they continued dancing he added, "I know the masks are designed to keep our identities secret, but I find the concept a little mundane. After all, at some point you will have to know who we are."

She laughed a little. "I agree, it was my grandmother's idea."

"Besides," he twirled her once more, "you certainly have a right to judge the man you wish to marry by his appearances. Wouldn't want to be stuck with a hideous old man now would you?"

"No, I'm not sure of anyone who would."

He smiled again, "Good. Then allow me to assure you, underneath this mask I am quite handsome."

"Is that so?" While he was a bit arrogant, he was much easier to talk to than anyone else thus far. Everything about him screamed pretentious highborn, but she would give him the benefit of the doubt.

"Oh yes. You will have nothing to complain about with me."

"Is there a winning personality to match those good looks?"

"Does there need to be?" he questioned, though his tone suggested he was only teasing.

She chose to ignore the obvious answer. "Tell me, what do you do in your kingdom?"

His teeth flashed once more. "An excellent question, dear Princess; one I hoped you might ask. I am the next in line for the throne, default through my dragon bond."

Immediately her eyes darted to his hand. Sure enough, he bore a dragon's mark. His eyes lit up as he caught her staring. Clearly this was intended to impress her.

Then her eyes shifted to the other side of the room, where most of the rulers sat, watching everyone else dance and enjoy themselves. There, beside her mother and father, sat the King and Queen of Susurros. Their eyes seemed hollow, their expressions dim, despite the merriment happening around them.

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