Artemisia had discovered the existence of her chaperone quite unexpectedly, not long before the ball was due to begin.

  She had been in the middle of having her hair done, the two maids from before gushing over the finery of her hairpins, shaped like bird wings. Someone had knocked on the door smartly, causing them to pause.

  “Are you expecting anyone, my lady?” the younger maid asked, who was called Marie.

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “I’ll answer it,” said Lizzy, the older one. She went to the door, opened it, and exchanged a few words with whoever it was on the other side. Meanwhile, Marie quickly finished up Artemisia’s hair, handing her a mirror so she could examine it.

  “My lady, The Right Honourable Countess Plisen is here to see you. She says she is obeying the wishes of your aunt.”

  Which aunt? Aunt Cecilia, perhaps? She’s the only one I know is in the capital.

  Artemisia had been paid a flying visit by Aunt Cecilia, her mother’s sister, the day after she had arrived in Seraph. She had been there for barely more than fifteen minutes, which was little time for anything of note to be said, but she had seemed nice enough.

  There must be a reason for this.

  “Alright, let her in.” Artemisia stood as Countess Plisen entered the room. She was small and mousy, with crows feet at the corner of her eyes. “Greetings, Countess Plisen. Could you explain what my aunt asked of you?”

  “Greetings, Lady Artemisia. Are you well?”

  “I am well, thank you very much. And you?” Come on, do we have to do small talk every time? Just cut to the chase.

  “I am as well as you see,” Countess Plisen said somewhat evasively.

  Well, you look pretty pale to me. I can tell you’ve tried to cover up your eyebags.

  “I see,” Artemisia said, tamping down her annoyance. “Pray tell me, what brings you here?”

  “Your aunt called upon me two days ago, acting on behalf of Duchess von Lindt. She had requested that Cecilia find you a suitable chaperone for tonight, and your aunt asked me if I would fulfil that role. As one of Empress Isabella’s ladies-in-waiting, I am of suitable position and ability to accompany you to the ball tonight.”

  Artemisia nodded. “Why were none of us required to be escorted throughout the afternoon then?” I was able to wander off by myself with no issues during the tour, so why does it matter now?

  “A ball is a completely different event,” Countess Plisen said, as if that was all the explanation needed.

  And it probably would be, if I wasn’t totally unfamiliar with these customs.

  “I am…” Artemisia considered her words. “I have never attended one of the crown princess’ gatherings before, so I am unaware of the proper way to do things.”

  “Oh, my apologies,” Countess Plisen said, covering her mouth. “I forgot that this was all new to you. May I sit?”

  Artemisia gave her approval, and the countess immediately sat on the chaise longe.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “When in the palace, you are aware that one places full trust in the imperial family, correct?”

  “Yes. That is why it’s considered rude to bring your own servants or guards, because it implies that you think that the imperial family cannot care for you properly.”

  “Exactly. And also why, most of the time, young ladies such as yourself do not need to be accompanied. However, the rule is slightly different for evening balls. Hmm, how to say this?” Countess Plisen thought for a moment. “Especially when a young lady has been invited alone, if she is able to procure a chaperone within the palace, it is a sign of her connections and prestige.”

  “Oh. So it’s a symbol of power.”

  “That is… not how I would have worded it, but yes, more or less.”

  Oh, how I love being a noble lady, unable to go anywhere without someone breathing down my neck.

  “I shall be in your care, Countess Plisen.”

  ?

  “Oh! I’m terribly sorry!”

  “Perfectly alright!” said the blond man, wincing. “Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.”

  “But this is the third time I’ve stepped on your foot!” Artemisia exclaimed. “I would rather retire from this dance than cause you any more harm.”

  “Do not worry, my lady.” The blond man winced again as the dance required him put his weight on his injured foot. “Your steps are as light as a feather.”

  I can see you wincing. On the outside, Artemisia’s expression was one of gentle concern, but within she was scowling darkly. And I stomped on the same foot three times with all my strength. Guess I’ve got to hand it to you; you’ve got some stubborn pride, boy.

  She didn’t have the heart to stomp on his foot again, and eventually she returned to Countess Plisen, who gave her a steady look.

  “The only time you ever glanced downwards was right before you stepped on his foot,” she said casually.

  “Was it?” Artemisia said, trying to sound just as casual as the countess, but a wobble in her voice betrayed her. She sighed. “I’ll be less obvious in the future.”

  It was Countess Plisen’s turn to sigh, but she didn’t say anything else.

  “Must I dance with every man who approaches me?” Artemisia asked.

  “If you pick and choose, you will only make yourself unapproachable. I thought you were a great lover of dancing, no matter your partner.”

  Artemisia only hummed in response.

  It wasn’t long before another man came to ask her to dance, but this one she recognised.

  “How are you, Lady Artemisia?” said a dark-haired man several years older than her. When he smiled, dimples appeared in his cheeks, and they were rosy from many days spent out in the sun.

  “I am well,” Artemisia responded, clasping her hands in front of her. “And you, Lord Martin?”

  Martin der Moritz, the heir of his marquisate family. He’s an old acquaintance of mine, as we’ve known each other since I was a teenager and his estate is within the Lindt duchy’s administrative area. He’s also a very eligible bachelor… is he to be a love interest?

  “Oh, terrible as always,” he said, laughing. “My father keeps piling more and more responsibilities upon me. I think he plans on handing over the title soon.”

  “Really? Should you be telling me this?”

  Martin shrugged. “It’s not a secret. Anyway, how is your family? I haven’t seen any of you since the summer solstice.”

  “They’re all in good health,” Artemisia replied.

  Countess Plisen cleared her throat subtly.

  “Ah, this is Countess Plisen. She’s chaperoning me this evening.”

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady…”

  “Susanna.” She held out her hand, which Martin took and kissed. A bashful smile flickered across the her face, and Artemisia realised the countess might be younger than she had originally thought.

  “Well, I hope you won’t mind me spiriting Lady Artemisia away for a dance?”

  “Of course not,” Countess Plisen said, fluttering a fan that she had produced from seemingly nowhere.

  “Gosh, you’re such a lady-killer,” Artemisia found herself saying as the two of them made their way to the dance floor.

  Martin sighed. “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

  “But you don’t deny it?”

  “Cease your teasing, my lady, or I’ll be the one stepping on your feet this time.”

  “Oh, you wouldn’t dare!”