The morning of the debutante ball began bright and early for the ladies of the house.

Sara was dragged from her bed by an anxious gaggle of maids, including June, before dawn. They bathed her more gently than she had expected. The warm, oil-scented water soothed her as it washed away the cold sweat from her night terrors.

Recently, bad dreams were tormenting Sara. She was twisting and turning throughout the night and deep circles had already formed under her eyes. Since she had returned to Lily’s normal routine, she had woken up the servants twice with her screams. Even Nanny was grumpier than usual as she directed Lily’s dress, hair, and makeup team.

The gown’s high collar had been replaced by a tall pearl choker strung on gold. Nanny presented it to her saying, “Another present from the prince.” Though it hid her bruises, the heavy choker also pressed against her throat painfully.

Hours later, Sara maneuvered her massive gown into the carriage and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass window. The maids had worked hard from dawn to dusk preparing her for this evening affair.

Lily’s beautiful yet wild curls had been tamed into a tightly braided and wound bun at the nape of her neck. Every blemish had been painted away with a light touch of makeup, including her under-eye circles. Her healing forearm was hidden by white silk gloves.

Her body was now a work of art in a way that was new to Sara. She hadn’t hated the experience, though being literally sewn into her dress was incredibly stifling. She felt like she was going to split at the seams as she sat in the rocking carriage across from Lily’s brother Philip, her temporary escort.

They were fast-tracked to the front of the line once they arrived at the palace. Philip took her hand and they made an unremarkable entrance. On a night like this, the Harrington siblings were only of moderate interest to the mass of nobles gathered in the ballroom.

Without a word, Philip dropped his sister’s hand and walked toward the drinks table. He joined a chattering group of men his age, leaving Sara to fend for herself.

Why is that bastard single, if it’s so important to marry off a teenager? grumbled Sara as she stood abandoned near the door. She took a moment to take in the atmosphere. The massive hall was blinding - gilded edges everywhere, with chandeliers and gas lamps casting a warm glow across the attendees.

A young boy cried from the top of a grand staircase at the far end of the ballroom, “Now presenting - !”

The main event had begun. Sara ignored the announcement and looked around, hoping this was her chance to disappear. Just as she was about to escape to a waiting room and sit down, an iron grip took her elbow and pulled.

Sara was forced to spin in her heavy gown and almost lost her balance.

“My word, you are clumsy these days.” It was Prince Henry. They were indeed a magnificent pair in their coordinated outfits. His blue-and-gold suit was more decorated than before, and she saw that his buttons were pearl in an effort to match the choker.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” said Sara. She gave a shoddy curtsy. When Henry frowned, she begged him internally to let it go.

He slid his arm around her waist and began walking her toward the center of the dance floor.

“Let us begin, shall we?” asked Henry. He began to swing her around, lifting her from the floor as an orchestra’s tune began to swell in the distance. Her stomach dropped as the prince began to dance with her in tow.

I don’t know how to dance! thought Sara. Unfortunately, Henry wasn’t skilled enough to lead an inexperienced partner, and they stumbled several times as the song started in earnest.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” hissed the prince into her ear. Sara clung to his shoulder and hand in a death grip, hoping her feet would magically figure out their next step.

Henry stepped on her toe and they tripped together, missing the next beat. The crowd was whispering and even Sara could hear it over the music and the rush of blood in her own ears.

The prince stopped dancing and led Sara to the side of the room. He placed her hand gently into the hand of an older man who wore a crown - presumably King Gerald - and walked off.

Sara was confused until she saw him choose the hand of a young girl who had entered when the herald announced the debutantes. The crowd gasped in delight as the young girl blushed and agreed to the prince’s dance request.

The king held her hand in a death grip as he watched his son.

“That was uncharacteristic of you, Lady Liliana.” His deep voice was soothing, but Sara could hear the accusation beneath his words.

“I have not been well lately, Your Majesty,” she said with her head bowed. “I must have forgotten to practice the steps.”

The king’s hand tightened painfully around her own.

“I do not appreciate your sarcasm, Lily,” he said. Sara had no idea how to respond. “Your father assured me of your compliance, but I see that he failed to bring you into line.”

The first dance ended and the prince took a bow while the debutante curtsied. Her flushed face shone with pleasure at being chosen. As the rest of the young ladies and their partners stepped onto the dance floor, the prince made a beeline for Sara and the king.

“Father,” said the prince, bending at the waist. “May I speak with my fiancée in private?”

Sara saw King Gerald nod in the corner of her vision. She shivered involuntarily.

“Be mindful of your surroundings,” warned the king as the prince grabbed Sara’s elbow once more and began to pull her away.

Sara’s blood ran cold at the thought of being alone with Prince Henry. She scanned the ball room, but she had no allies.

She saw Katrina next to an adolescent who looked like a young relative. Her brother Philip was engaged in a loud conversation with several noblemen. There was no one who could or would save her.

Just as Henry was shoving her past a curtain and through a balcony door, Sara’s eyes met those of Lady Isabella. Before the line of sight was broken, Sara saw Isabella’s round and cheery face crumple into a concerned frown.

As the buzzing warmth of the ballroom gave way to chilly silence, Sara sent a silent prayer to her absent deity.