It did not take long for the duke to escort Artemisia to more familiar surroundings, and she was able to glean the location of her personal dressing room from a passing servant.

  “Thank you for guiding me, Your Grace.”

  “It was a pleasure.” Duke von Loambarn placed his hand on his chest and bowed slightly. “I will see you this evening, my lady.”

  “Yes. Farewell.” Artemisia stepped inside her dressing room and closed the door securely behind her. Then, not even waiting for the sound of receding footsteps, she sank to the floor and groaned into her hands.

  What even happened there?! That was a disaster! I made a fool of myself, in front of the male lead no less! Aaaaaagh!

  “Um, excuse me, Lady Artemisia?”

  Artemisia’s head jerked up. A pair of maids watched her anxiously from one side of the room. Oh, for crying out loud.

  She stood up as nonchalantly as she could and attempted to feign serenity. “Yes?” She winced as her voice came out unusually high.

  “Pardon me, but are you well?” the other maid asked, this one a little older than the other. She was tall and thin, whereas the younger was shorter and rounder, with big glasses.

  “I’m a little tired,” Artemisia said. That’s a lie – I’m exhausted. “Would it be alright if I rested for a little while? Alone?”

  “Of course, my lady!” the tall maid said, dipping her head. “Would you like some tea?”

  “I would, thank you.”

  “We’ll have it prepared at once.” The two maids ushered themselves out of the room, leaving Artemisia in blessed silence.

  She just about made it to the chaise longe before collapsing, her mind racing. It was difficult to collect her thoughts, trying to run through everything that had already happened that day.

  The most stressful tea party ever, getting lost, and then wandering into the first prince’s private art collection and getting caught by Duke von Loambarn. Of all people! Oh why oh why did I have to freeze and panic instead of coming up with a plan that didn’t make me look suspicious, or worse, like an idiot!

  I can’t believe I just stumbled onto that hidden passageway either. Something about that painting of a door had seemed strange anyway, but for it actually to be hiding a secret one! Well, this is a story. Those kind of things happen.

  And he was so nice! Surprisingly nice. A little intimidating, but perfectly polite and genial. I suppose he is a dashing male lead. But still… oh my god that was so embarrassing!

  Artemisia covered her face and rolled to and fro, cringing. Then the door opened and she sat up abruptly.

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  “I’ve brought you tea, my lady.” It was just the shorter maid this time, holding a tray with a tea set. There was even a plate with a few biscuits.

  “Woah, that was quick! Thank you!”

  The maid put it on a small table beside the chaise longe. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, that’s all, thank you.” Wait, I already said thank you once. Ack! “Actually, how long do I have until I need to prepare for this evening?”

  “Nearly an hour, my lady.”

  Good, I don’t think she noticed. “Alright. Can you leave me in private until then? I want to recover my energy for tonight.”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  ?

  The ballroom glimmered, illuminated by what seemed like a thousand lights. Artemisia craned her head to look towards the ceiling, which was covered in beautiful artworks depicting scenes from myth and legend. She even recognised the myth of Peripherata that had been recited at Countess Selwyn’s soireé. And to think that was once terrifying to me – this makes it look like a picnic with my best friends!

  Sure, it was a small ball by the capital’s standards, with only a few extra people added to the thirty or so from the afternoon gathering, but it was a veritable horde to the reclusive character Artemisia had become.

  “Presenting Her Imperial Highness Crown Princess Elisabeth Jorumata von Seraph Drakmoniceros, and His Imperial Highness, Prince Consort Theodore Fiorello von Drakmoniceros!”

  The crowd bowed and curtseyed as the star of the ball entered into the room, clad in a silver dress shot through with metallic embroidery. Large puff sleeves covered her shoulders, with long streamers of diaphanous silk attached to them that rippled like water as she moved. She was escorted by her husband, who wore a dark grey tailcoat to compliment her. They surveyed the room together with a perfectly royal attitude.

  “Thank you all for attending tonight,” announced Princess Sissi. “It warms our hearts to see you all here, standing here on this magnificent evening…” She continued to speak, but Artemisia’s attention was drawn away as she spotted Duke von Loambarn in the crowd.

  He’d changed clothes for the evening, sporting a dark blue tailcoat and burgundy waistcoat. His boots from earlier had been changed to evening shoes, and even his hair had been attempted to be brought into order, although a stray curl was already hanging over his forehead. He watched the prince and princess with polite indifference, unaware of Artemisia’s gaze.

  I wonder if I’ll end up dancing with him tonight… not that I particularly want to dance with a stranger, but it would be a crying shame to waste all that practice Emile put me through.

  “...and now I say, let us dance! Orchestra!”

  Music flooded the room, and the crowd buzzed as if a hive of bees had emerged from stupor. Couples headed to the centre of the room, and those without a partner aimed to catch one.

  Artemisia was not exempt from this, and two men descended on her almost immediately.

  “Lady Artemisia!” they said in unison.

  Two blond pretty boys… the only real difference between them is the colour of their clothes.

  They scowled at each other, before one retreated. Oho, this guy must be more powerful than the other. Is he of higher status, perhaps, or just better at throwing his weight around?

  “Lady Artemisia,” the remaining one repeated. “Might I have the honour of accompanying you for this first dance?”

  Artemisia glanced sideways towards a middle-aged woman with greying light brown hair. She nodded her head minutely. Artemisia sent her a not-so-subtle pleading look, but the woman’s expression didn’t change save for a slight crease in her brow.

  “Very well,” she replied, holding back a sigh. If I’m going to have a chaperone forced upon me, could she not at least stop me from having to dance with randos?