Mournfully making my way to the awaiting ballroom, my mind wandered to the realization that I hadn't been given the name of the lady in waiting I was supposed to meet, much less a clear way to find her. I mulled this over as an excuse to cancel on the entire thing, but the wiser voice in my head told me that I would be in trouble if I couldn't prove I at least attempted to complete my given task. I pulled my mask out of my pocket and tied it around my head before moving forward.

I pushed my way through the double oak doors with a sigh, greeted by a room filled with minor nobility who lacked the rank to survive the social outcry should they arrive fashionably late. It was unclear on whether my date would be among them; the family that sent her was a barony, and thus high on the noble totem pole, but most of the population of ladies in waiting were from minor houses. The only power available for them to wield comes from the family they served. It was a precarious position at the best of times.

Casting around the room, my eyes fell on Probably Joseph, placed in the far corner of the room where he could survey the crowd without getting in the way. Those who needed him would be able to find him quickly, and all others would be more likely to talk to one of the footmen on each side of the door for more minor concerns.

I made my way around the milling crowd of chatting nobility, waiting for the string quartet to start playing before the dancing began. Depending on the atmosphere, it could be anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour.

The fanciful masks decorating most of the surrounding faces informed me that this crowd was completely devoid of taste. I saw at least three swans, five peacocks, lions, tigers, and the occasional dragon, complete with a scaley tail stitched to the seat of the wearer's trousers. It was gaudy, overdone, and probably worth as much as what a commoner would pay for a small house.

Doing my best to not bump into anyone with too much glitter, lest the layers of sparkles being shed from some of these women's dresses cling to my suit and turn me from an understated human in a suit into a child's drawing of the night sky.

Finally reaching Probably Joseph, I took a moment to gain composure before opening my mouth to ask him my questions.

The perfect steward he always was, Probably Joseph seems to have anticipated my request, cutting off my attempt to speak with a wave of his arm, beckoning one of the wandering servers marked in their customary black attire, this time with the addition of a plain black mask, to come to his side. I didn't catch what was whispered, but the server turned to me, bowed, and silently gestured for me to follow him.

I was led to one of the four sitting rooms that were strategically placed around the perimeter of the ballroom, one on each side and two in the back. The one I was led to was to the left of the double doors, largely empty at this point in the night. The rooms tended to fill up during the night as dancers tried to catch their breath, nobles arranged negotiations, and the poor souls like me tried to avoid the crowd. The chairs were comfortable, the rooms were quiet, and the air had a scent of lilacs floating from the oils in the candles decoratively placed along the perimeter of the room.

With proper foresight and positioning, one could escape notice for the majority of the night, remaining difficult to track down out of self-preservation. Each had a door that led to a hallway corridor; usually, they were used by servers or other staff, but they could be used as a quick exit for anyone who wanted to escape without having to push through crowds.

The server led me to a corner where a woman was reading in the light of the lamp by her side. I couldn't make out the title, but it was a small brown volume that could be easily stowed away without issues. I had several myself.

Based on her close association with Quinley, it was likely a prop. Quinley has set a trend that most young ladies of rank have picked up on. She always brings along a book as a prop, pretending to read it when someone she's interested in was in the room with her to appear more demure and scholarly. Heaven forbid that she read it. Several times before, I had been given false hope that my partner for the day would have similar interests to talk about, only to realize their interests inevitably fell elsewhere.

The server cleared his throat, catching her attention fairly quickly. She looked up, wearing an understated silver mask that matched the bracelets on her wrist. Her dress was long and silky, probably far more comfortable to wear than my tailored suit. Her hands were smooth and perfectly manicured, and when she stood up her height in her heels was only a few inches shorter than mine. As most women had to crane their necks to meet my gaze, this was a nice change. At least I wouldn't leave this farce with a sore neck on top of everything else.

She appeared to be around my age, early twenties at the most, but I couldn't tell much more than that underneath the mask she was wearing. The volume she was holding was quickly tucked into a discrete pocket, followed by the customary curtsy that I wish I had the power to no longer require.

Straightening her back gracefully, the lady in waiting confidently looked me in the eyes and spoke the first sentence of the night. "Prince Haven, I presume?"