Eirene stood beneath the gilded chandelier of her mother’s dressing room, arms held stiffly as seamstresses pulled and pinned at the black silk gown that clung to her like second skin.
“You’ll be walking behind Elara,” her mother said crisply from the velvet chaise, not sparing her a glance. “Do not trip. Do not slouch. And for God’s sake, do not speak to anyone unless spoken to.”
The pins at her back didn’t sting as much as her mother’s voice did.
“Why black?” Eirene asked quietly.
Her mother finally looked up. “Because you blend better in shadows.”
Eirene felt the words like a slap.
Not a color. A command.
Not a daughter. A ghost.
The evening descended in shades of gold and glitter, the Deimos family mansion coming alive with lights, champagne, and the dull buzz of high society.
It was the annual Winter Gala — the social event of the year. A chance for alliances to be forged, reputations built, and daughters auctioned off through polite conversation and a well-timed smile.
Eirene knew the routine.
Walk. Smile. Pretend.
Tonight, however, her limbs felt heavier. Her mask, more fragile. Because for the first time in forever, someone had seen her—and now, returning to invisibility felt like drowning.
She stood near the balcony doors, alone in a sea of silk and crystal laughter, a glass of untouched champagne in her hand.
“Elara looks radiant tonight,” said a passing woman to her husband.
Eirene stiffened.
“Is that her sister?” the man asked, gesturing vaguely.
“I think so. The quiet one. What’s her name again?”
The woman waved it off. “Something soft. Starts with an E.”
They walked away, laughing gently.
Something soft.
Like an afterthought.
Like she wasn’t even real.
“Enjoying the party?”
Eirene turned, already knowing the voice.
Leonidas stood there, dark and unbothered, dressed in a suit that looked stolen from a prince and worn by a criminal. There was something beautifully wrong about him. Like he didn’t belong here—and that was precisely why he fit.
“You weren’t invited,” she said.
“Correct.” He took a sip from his drink. “But no one questioned me.”
“That’s illegal.”
“That’s rich coming from a girl imprisoned in gold.”
She stared at him.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, quieter this time.
“I was curious.”
“About what?”
He leaned in just enough for her heart to skip. “About what kind of girl hides fire behind her silence.”
Her breath caught.
He straightened again, eyes skimming the crowd. “Also, your sister’s date offered me a hundred bucks to keep his secrets. I took it.”
“What kind of secrets?”
He raised a brow. “The kind that make men sweat when the lights go off.”
She laughed. A real laugh. Sharp and sudden. And it startled even her.
Leonidas smiled faintly. “There it is.”
“There what?”
“That sound. Like glass cracking. Beautiful, but dangerous.”
Elara found them ten minutes later, heels tapping like warning shots.
“Eirene,” she said tightly, eyes flicking to Leonidas. “We need to speak. Alone.”
Leonidas gave her a mock bow. “Your highness.”
She ignored him, grabbing Eirene’s arm and dragging her into the hallway.
“What are you doing?” Elara hissed.
“Standing.”
“With him?”
“He didn’t bite me.”
“Elara—” she softened her voice — “He’s just a friend.”
“There is no such thing in our world. Everyone wants something.”
Eirene looked down. “Then what do you want?”
Elara faltered.
“You say you’re helping me survive,” Eirene whispered. “But you never ask me what I want.”
Silence.
Then—Elara’s voice cracked slightly. “Because what you want will get you killed.”
And with that, she turned and walked away.
Eirene didn’t return to the party.
Instead, she found her way to the library, where golden candlelight kissed the spines of ancient books. She collapsed into the armchair near the fireplace, pulled off her heels, and let the silence wrap around her like a shawl.
Moments later, the door creaked open.
She didn’t even look.
“I’m hiding,” she said.
“Good,” Leonidas said, walking in and sitting on the floor beside the armchair. “I was looking for a place to disappear.”
She glanced down. “You’re not dancing with the elite?”
“Only if they let me stab someone on the floor.”
She snorted. “Charming.”
He tilted his head back to look up at her. “You look tired.”
“I am.”
“Of tonight?”
“Of always.”
Leonidas was quiet for a beat. Then said, “You know… the way they treat you. That isn’t normal.”
“I know.”
“You don’t deserve it.”
“I know.”
“So why don’t you scream?”
She looked at him.
“I’ve screamed in silence for so long,” she said softly, “that I don’t think my voice knows how to be loud anymore.”
He stared at her, as if memorizing every word.
And then he said something she didn’t expect.
“I used to scream,” he whispered. “Until someone told me the only way to win was to let them think they broke me.”
Her heart tightened. “Did they?”
“No.” He looked her dead in the eyes. “And neither did yours.”
That night, Eirene lay in bed and couldn’t sleep.
Not because of the whispers in the house.
Not because of the echo of her mother’s cold glance.
But because of a boy who saw past the velvet mask she wore.
And made her wonder if maybe—just maybe—she could take it off.
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