Exhausted from the unrelenting gaiety and glitter of the grand ball, Princess Esmeralda stepped onto the stone terrace, seeking solace in the cool night air. The breeze was a balm against her flushed cheeks, the distant scent of blooming roses mingling with the salt of the nearby sea. The glow of lanterns illuminated the terrace, casting delicate shadows over her crimson gown as she leaned against the marble balustrade.

“It is rather suffocating in there, is it not?” a voice murmured from the darkness, startling her. Esmeralda whirled around, her heart skipping a beat. A man emerged from the shadows, his striking visage catching the moonlight. His sharp features and luminous green eyes held an enigmatic allure, framed by dark auburn hair that fell in soft waves. His expression carried an air of bemused confidence.

“You startled me,” she said, clutching the edge of the balustrade to steady herself. “And how would you know my thoughts, sir?”

“They are written plainly in your manners and body language,” he replied smoothly, his voice rich and velvety. “Your weariness, your longing for escape—all of it is evident.” He inclined his head slightly, his gaze sharp yet playful. “And by that same intuition, I can safely assume you are Princess Esmeralda.”

Her brows knit together in surprise. “You presume much for someone who has not offered his name.”

“Forgive me,” he said with a faint smile that spoke of anything but contrition. “I am Silas of Silvinus.”

Recognition flickered in her mind. “The Count of Silvinus’ second son?”

“Precisely.” His smile widened, revealing a glint of amusement. “It seems my reputation precedes me.”

Esmeralda folded her hands in front of her, regarding him warily. “You must be exceptionally skilled at reading people if you’ve pieced together so much from so little.”

Silas chuckled, a low and melodic sound. “It is a habit, not a skill. I’ve long been cursed with an overly intuitive mind. My brother despises it when I finish his sentences.”

Her lips quirked into a reluctant smile. “I imagine it can be... unsettling, knowing others’ thoughts without them voicing them aloud.”

“Indeed,” he admitted, his tone softening. “Especially in high society, where every thought is buried beneath layers of artifice. The things people think and never say...” He shuddered slightly, as if brushing off an unpleasant memory. “It is no wonder I sought refuge out here.”

Her curiosity piqued, Esmeralda tilted her head. “Is that why you came outside? To escape the pretense?”

“Precisely. Though I assure you, Your Highness, I did not come to disrupt your reprieve or—heaven forbid—to stalk you.” His grin was mischievous, but there was an undercurrent of sincerity in his voice.

She regarded him for a moment longer before nodding. “Very well. I shall take your word for it.”

“And might I congratulate you on your engagement?” he said, dipping into a mockingly formal bow. “Duke Ryan is a fortunate man.”

Her smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of discomfort that she quickly masked. “Thank you,” she said politely, though her tone carried a hint of detachment.

Silas noticed the change but said nothing. Instead, he gestured towards the ballroom doors. “I imagine the Duke must be searching for you. Shall I escort you back inside?”

Esmeralda shook her head. “No need. I can find my way.” She curtsied lightly, her movements graceful. “Good evening, Lord Silas.”

“Good evening, Your Highness,” he replied, watching as she turned and made her way towards the grand doors. Her figure was illuminated by the lantern light, the rubies in her hair glinting like stars. As she reached the threshold, she glanced back and offered him a smile—a fleeting yet genuine expression that lingered in his mind long after she disappeared.

Silas remained on the terrace, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “What a peculiar woman,” he mused aloud, the moonlight catching the glint of admiration in his eyes.