Ugh. This goddamn ball. If I hear one more waltz, I swear I'm going to yeet myself into the nearest flower arrangement. My dress itches like a swarm of pissed-off fire ants decided to nest under the lace. And this hairstyle? Let's just say if birds decided to build a nest in it, I wouldn't even be surprised. I swear, they sculpted this monstrosity with the intent of making me look like a poodle that just lost a fight with a weed whacker. Honestly, the whole thing is just ugly as fuck.

 I swirled the lukewarm tea in my cup, the sickly sweet aroma doing nothing to soothe my simmering boredom.

 "Right," I muttered to myself, rising from the gilded chair. "Operation: Escape and Find Abigail commences."

 Clutching my teacup for dear life, I navigated the throng of glittering gowns and pompous pricks. Honestly, sometimes I think my older sister, Ivy, enjoys these things so much because it gives her an excuse to flaunt her latest ridiculously expensive dress. As if anyone actually cares. That's when disaster struck. One minute I was plotting my escape to a quiet corner, the next I was sprawled against a rock-hard chest, the contents of my teacup splattering across… Oh, shit.

  I looked up into the face of Prince Kail Jasekot, and honestly, the man looked ready to explode. His eyes, usually a fierce shade of red, were currently narrowed into slits of pure fury, focused entirely on the tea stain blossoming on his ridiculously tailored suit. 

"Oh my god, I am so, so sorry!" I stammered, mortified. "I didn't see you –"

 "Obviously," he snapped, his voice dripping with venom. "Do you have any idea how much this cost? This isn't some peasant rag, princess."

 I winced. God, he really was pissed. “I… I truly am sorry. I’ll have my ladies tend to it. Or… I can pay for the cleaning. Anything.”

 His anger seemed to…shift. A smirk crept onto his face, his eyes raking over me from head to toe in a way that made my skin crawl. "Well now," he purred, his voice suddenly smooth as silk, "Perhaps we can forget this little…accident ever happened. If you were willing to do something for me."

 Before I could even formulate a response, a blur of crimson fabric slammed into Kail, sending him stumbling backwards. 

"Hands off, Pretty Boy," a familiar voice snarled. Abigail. 

Thank the gods. She enveloped me in a hug so tight, I could barely breathe.

 "Are you okay, Destiny? He didn't hurt you, did he?"

 "I'm fine, Abi," I reassured her, patting her back. "Just a little tea spillage." 

"Honestly, this ball is a total snooze-fest. I'm surprised you haven't fallen asleep in your tea."

Her fiery orange hair seemed to crackle with the energy of her pronouncements. Bless her heart, Abi knew me better than I knew myself, which was probably why she could always spot the simmering loathing I felt for these events. Predictably, that was when *she* arrived.

 "Destiny, darling," Ivy purred, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness that could curdle milk. 

My older sister, future queen – or so she desperately hoped. Her dark brown skin was flawless beneath layers of makeup, expertly applied to accentuate her cherry-red lips and downplay the severe cut of her ice-blue hair. “If you paid more attention to these handsome men, you'd be married by now, too, you know. You wouldn’t be wearing suits." 

Abigail snorted. "Yeah, because trapping herself in a gilded cage with some stuffy old duke is *totally* Destiny's dream." 

Ivy’s dark blue eyes narrowed. “At least *my* future doesn’t involve chasing after dusty old legends and ogres that exist only in fairytales. Unlike you, Abigail, my time would be spent bettering the kingdom, not… whatever *this* is supposed to be.” 

My patience, already wearing thin, snapped. “Hey! Don’t you dare insult my best friend." I stepped between them, a familiar ache blooming in my chest. Why couldn't they just get along? 

“Or what, Destiny?” Ivy sneered, her voice rising. “Going to run off to the forest again? Leave the actual *ruling* to those of us who are responsible?” 

Just when I thought she was going to physically attack Abigail, a large hand gripped Ivy's arm. "Enough, Ivy," King Lurchester boomed, his voice carrying the weight of command.

 His strong figure towered over us, the dark brown skin of his face etched with weariness. His locs, usually neatly tied back, were starting to come undone. “This is hardly the behaviour of a future queen. You're making a scene again. I apologize, Abigail. I don’t want to cause any problems between our royal families. Especially after they offered to help us in the war against Kalyeyor..."

Ivy’s lip trembled. "But Father…"

 The King's gaze softened slightly. "Come, let us not ruin this event. It is not your sister's fault you are unhappy," he said, his voice a low rumble, before leading her away. "She has a heart I wish you'd take after, Ivy."

 As they walked off, Abigail and I exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated eyeroll.