“Tiffany, I can explain,” Eugene insisted while he hid James, his servant, behind him and pretended there wasn’t anything going on; as if his fiancée hadn’t just caught him kissing someone else.

“Just what exactly do you think you’re doing, ‘Gene?!” the princess shouted.

“Should I go?” James asked quietly.

“Nonsense, you stay right here. Tiffany, please calm down.”

“Calm down?! That’s rich! I thought we would keep up this bit of theatre for our subjects, that we would be solidary with one another, but instead I catch you making out with your servant during the ball that was meant to honour our engagement?”

Eugene’s gaze fell to the floor. “I do think I can see the irony of that,” he admitted. “But I thought you knew. About James and I, at least. It’s not as if we were actively trying to hide it. And then there’s that with you and, what’s her name, Noé?”

Tiffany closed her eyes, took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Her name is Noah and we’re just friends,” she lied. “For how long has this been going on?”

The prince sighed. “I think... about a year?”

“A year?!”

“Tiffany, I—”

“No, never mind, I’ve heard enough!” Tiffany cried and stormed back to the ballroom.

*

Noah leaned her back against the wall, holding the plate she was eating from. This was her fourth shrimp cocktail; dancing really made a girl hungrier than she had expected. With eyes full of wonder, she watched the dancefloor, where a duke danced with a countess whose red, ruby decorated dress, seemed to make her thrice as large as she actually was. Noah was surprised she could still move in that costume, let alone with such flair and freedom.

Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she noticed Tiffany striding up to her. “Ah, your highness. You were right, that was quicker than I expected,” she noted, but the princess said nothing. She grabbed Noah by the wrist and dragged her to the other door out of the ballroom. “Your highness?”

No reaction.

“Princess?”

Nothing.

Finally they were out of the ballroom. Heavy doors fell closed behind them. Noah took a deep breath and asked: “Tiffany?”

The princess turned around. In her eyes, tears started to form, threatening to flow down her cheeks.

Noah almost recoiled. Tiffany, who always smiled with the radiance of a thousand suns, stood sobbing before her. The squire held out her arms in front of her to pull Tiffany into a close embrace, but she stopped herself. What if someone saw them?

But Tiffany was a step ahead of her. With a force Noah hadn’t known from the princess yet, Tiffany wrapped her arms around the squire’s waist and squeezed. She buried her face in Noah’s tunic, smearing it with tears and make up.

Noah took a deep breath, with newfound courage she finally embraced Tiffany and gently stroked her hair. “What’s wrong, Tiffany?”

“Eugene. He,” she sobbed, “was making out with his servant!”

“What?” Noah asked. “But I thought you two made a deal.”

“Yeah, that’s,” she sobbed again, “what I thought!”

Noah pulled away from Tiffany to get a better look at her. Her mascara had run to her cheekbones and her eyeshadow was smeared all over her forehead. In some spots, she could see her actual skin through the layers of powder.

Tiffany rubbed the tears from her eyes with her gloves. “They’ve been at this for a year,” she growled. “It’s just not fair. Can you imagine how long they would have gone on if I hadn’t caught them now?”

Noah frowned, doubting, sunken away in thought. She soon looked up with a warlike fire in her eyes and grabbed the handle of her sword. “Shall I confront him?”

Tiffany looked at her questioningly, but shook her head. “It’s better if you don’t. I’ll give him an earful on another occasion,” she sighed and leaned her head against Noah’s shoulder.

“If you say so.”

The music from the ballroom still vaguely sounded through the hallway. Noah gently swayed them to the rhythm of the music.

“See, you’re pretty good at this.”

“It’s easier when no one’s looking,” the squire whispered.

Slowly, a smile returned to Tiffany’s face and she laughed through her tears as Tiffany spun her around like she had Noah not even an hour ago. The music in the hallway swelled; the door to the ballroom opened.

“Tiffany, I have a confession to make,” Noah said carefully.

Tiffany looked up at her. “You’re not having an affair as well, are you?”

Noah nervously looked down at her. “No. No, not really.” She leaned her forehead against Tiffany’s. “No… What I want to say is… The reason Sir Lance asked me to replace him is…” she hesitated. But she started it. She had to get this out.

“Yes?” Tiffany pushed.

“Because I’m head over heels in love with you,” she said quickly, ripping off the bandaid.

Without another word, Tiffany’s arms flew around Noah’s shoulders. She pulled the squire down to her height and kissed her as if her life depended on it.