Winter has ended. The last glimmers of hope melted away with the snow. March heralded the arrival of spring with the scent of fragrant trees and vibrant colors. Whispers began to spread through the palace corridors, small halls, and gardens, rumors that roared louder than the first thunderstorm.

The Spring Festival is approaching. On this day, the whole country blossoms, finally shedding its warm clothes. And along with them, the unnecessary past. This is the time when nature itself celebrates its awakening, and people’s destinies finally become clear.

Young people loved this holiday. Because it was a holiday of renewal. But, most importantly, almost all marriage proposals were made on this very day. And the royal family was no exception. By a strange tradition, all proposals involving this family were made specifically on the Spring Festival.

 Azalea knew. This would be her last festival within these walls. The first letter from her father had arrived just last week. It was full of undisguised anger at her uselessness. The demand that she returns home immediately after the festivities slipped into it every other line.

The queen had also received a letter, but it was more formal. It began with insincere thanks and only gave her a headache. For that reason, the queen didn’t even finish reading it. She simply ordered that Azalea’s belongings be packed.

Gerhard spoke animatedly about his visit to the Verdun’s reception. Azalea listened in silence. He noticed. Of course he did. He had known her since childhood.

“You absolutely must tell me what’s troubling you,” he said before leaving to try on his formal suit one last time.

 Azalea stood in the hallway, watching Gerhard leave. Through the huge window, she could see the servants decorating everything with garlands of flowers.

“Let this be over quickly,” Azalea whispered. “Please, let this just be over.”

The Spring Festival in Aden had always been dazzling. The palace was filled with the scent of fresh flowers of various varieties and species. The aromas of fine wines and wax blended harmoniously with the sweet fragrance. Everyone was preparing for this celebration of life. But not Azalea von Berge.

She stood apart, trying not to draw attention to herself. Her pale pink dress fit her perfectly. It was the queen’s latest gift. But against the backdrop of the silks and brocades worn by the guests who had arrived from all corners of the country and beyond, it seemed foreign to Azalea.

The Queen sat on the throne, to the King’s right. Her gaze, usually cold and piercing, kept lingering on Azalea today. When the girl approached to pay her respects, the Queen held her hand in hers for a moment.

“You look pale today, Azalea,” Her Majesty said quietly. A strange note slipped into her voice, which was usually devoid of emotion. However, she tried to push the sadness away. “Are your things ready? Your father… has written again. Are you leaving tomorrow?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. The journey to the Berge estate is a long one,” Azalea tried to keep her voice from trembling.

The Queen squeezed her fingers for a moment. It was almost imperceptible, but Azalea noticed it. “That’s a pity. I had hoped you would stay with me a little longer. Your mother…” She stopped short, and her gaze hardened again. “Take care of yourself, child.”

“Thank you for everything, Your Majesty.”

The queen nodded, releasing her, and Azalea felt that she would most likely never see her again. 

The music changed. The orchestra began to play a solemn waltz. This was the moment the entire hall had been waiting for. The whispers gave way to enthusiastic cheers and an excited buzz.

Gerhard stepped into the center. He looked impeccable. The gold embroidery on his uniform shone in the light of hundreds of candles. He did not look for anyone with his eyes. His path had been determined in advance. He approached Ingrid, who stood beside her father, shining like the morning star.

“Lady Ingrid,” his voice, amplified by the silence of the still hall, echoed beneath the arches. “Will you do me the honor?”

Ingrid curtsied perfectly, her golden hair cascading over her shoulders. When she placed her hand in his, a sigh of admiration swept through the hall. They were the perfect couple. Everyone knew it.

Azalea watched them, and it felt as if a shard of ice had lodged in her chest. She remembered how Gerhard had once promised that their first dance at the Spring festival would be together. But those promises had been made by a childhood friend, not the Crown Prince in a glittering hall.

They began to dance. Gerhard led Ingrid so gently, as if she were made of the finest porcelain. He whispered something in her ear, and Ingrid smiled that very smile, in which there was not a trace of pretense, only pure, genuine happiness.

Azalea didn’t envy her. No. Nor did she hate her. She couldn’t. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe. The lavish decor of the hall, the laughter, the music. Everything around her suddenly became unbearably loud and oppressive. She took a step back, then another, seeking refuge in the shadows of the columns.

“A beautiful sight, isn’t it?” Berthold von Berge, who had appeared out of nowhere, gave a venomous smirk.

He stood beside his daughter, reeking of wine and defeat. His eyes, once clear, were now clouded with greed and malice.

“Look closely, Azalea. This is reality. The sweet illusion is over.  You didn’t think it would last forever, did you? You didn’t think they’d truly accept you into the family, did you?”

She hadn’t thought about it. Not once.

“We’re leaving. Now!” —Berthold yanked her arm sharply. —And believe me, a completely different life awaits you at the estate. The fairy tales are over. It’s time to pay back the debts.

Azalea closed her eyes. In that moment of weakness, she admitted to herself what she’d been afraid to think. Azalea von Berge was in love with her only friend. The heart she’d tried so long to protect was finally broken. In the farthest corner of the glittering hall, amid the music and flowers, she was utterly, hopelessly alone…

While Azalea struggled to keep up with her father, who was dragging her toward the carriage, a solemn silence fell over the main hall.

The King’s voice, amplified by magic, echoed beneath the arches, announcing the engagement of Crown Prince Gerhard of Aden and Lady Ingrid von Verdun. The hall erupted in applause and jubilation. The prince took his betrothed’s hand in his. He was smiling. In the vast hall, he searched for his friend, wanting to share his joy with her. But Azalea was nowhere to be found.

She didn’t see it. The girl was sitting in an old cart that was rumbling along the cobblestone pavement away from the palace.