This is a retelling of the first ball (chapters 12 and 13) from the perspective of Wryn. Readers expressed interest in Wryn and Bastien as a couple, which inspired me to write this whole section from a different perspective. It ended up being a little long, so I'm publishing this as a two-part short story. I hope you enjoy- Eliana

Wryn

The dress hung off her frame awkwardly. The royal blue fabric swallowed her chest and pooled at her feet. She understood stealing was wrong, but she had little choice. The dress, however, would suffice until she could locate a better option.

Her long, tangled hair fell down her back to her waist in uneven waves. She didn't know how ladies made their hair so ornate. Wryn was certain that she had incorrectly pinned the peacock feather in her hair, causing it to hang limply like a flightless bird. She had no face paint or beauty products, so she was sure that the moment she walked into the ball, the assembly would realize she didn't belong.

Bash said she looked beautiful, but she thought he was lying. Wryn had no experience at balls or with parties. Never once had she attended one in the party-prone manor she'd lived in for years. She could only watch the fine men and women in their best clothes come to and from the house.

Despite being the countess's daughter, Wryn didn't belong in her world. After all, she was sickly and tired. At least that's how she used to feel before she met Bash. He'd changed things for her, and for the first time in Wryn's life, she experienced all the things that women talked about in the books Elowen gave her.

Prince Bastien de Sahar was the first person to understand her. Every day he visited, she grew more and more whole. He had his own magic and curse. She didn't mind that. In fact, she admired how he handled it.

Now he'd promised to take her away and break both their curses. At first, she'd been hesitant. Then she realized that this chance was more than the countess ever gave her. Bash wasn't even convinced that the countess was helping her at all, and the more she'd talked to him, the more she realized it was true.

"Calm down, Wryn," Bash set his frog hand in hers. "You look beautiful, darling."

His words didn't quell her speeding heart. "What if they know I am a fraud?"

"Darling," he said. "You'll be by my side. Don't you trust me? We'll talk to my sisters and I guarantee we can find a place for you while I learn to break your curse. I won't rest until it is done, just like when I broke the spell on your room."

Bash watched the countess for weeks to learn how. Wryn was anxious the entire time that the countess might figure out the prince was watching her every move. Still, Bash had found all the right ingredients, and he'd released her from her attic prison. Then today she'd stolen Elowen's dress and met Bash behind the house to ride all the way to Primi Cyra for the ball.

Wryn watched the trees disappear out of the carriage window and break into plains of snowy grass. It should have been impossible to travel such a distance in an afternoon, but Bash had one of the fairy empress's special horses that she'd gifted the queen of Sahar years ago. The horses were long-lived and impossibly fast. She didn't know why Bash had it, but she was grateful. It would ensure they arrived at the ball on time.

Bash was certain that they needed to tell the other royals about the countess and her misdeeds. He claimed his sisters would help them and that he could convince the Marquis de Ryne to send his rangers to arrest the countess. Wryn wasn't entirely sure why that had to be done at the ball, but Bash still struggled to keep his form human during daylight, so she supposed it would be easier for him like this.

The sun faded, and they slowed as they fell in line with dozens of carriages. Bastien transformed from a frog into his human form. It didn't startle Wryn anymore. Heat filled her cheeks as she averted her eyes from his naked form. He washed the slime from his body and put on his royal robes. He gripped her wrist, and she looked back at him.

There was no doubt that he was a handsome prince, like in one of her books. His bronze skin practically glowed in the torchlight. His dark hair had a slight curl and the gold circlet on his head gleamed. Even his beard looked immaculate. Glancing out the carriage window, he cursed.

"We should get out and walk," he said. "My sister Ava wrote me of a back entrance and I have no desire to stand in line half the evening."

He hopped out of the carriage and held out his hand to her. She shivered from the cool air and took his hand to dismount. She nearly tripped on the long skirt, but his strong arms caught her. Her stomach lurched forward from the carriage ride, but she tried to keep her composure together for Bash. She didn't want him to realize how afraid she was. Her whole life was being turned upside down and she half-wanted to crawl back into her attic and hide forever.

"Are you sure you don't want to find Elowen at the ball?" Bash asked her.

Wryn looked down at her stolen dress and guilt gnawed at her heart. "No. Let's find your sisters and get this over with."

They slipped through the shadows and darkness around all the people, impatiently waiting to be let in the castle. Bastien led her around the back of the stables and they slipped into the barn together. Then he counted stones inside the wall before pressing one to release a secret door.

"It's like a story," she said.

"Royalty is always full of secrets," Bash said. "Come on."

He led her down the passage, which dropped off behind a tapestry right below the ballroom. Bash took her arm and led her to the massive party. A herald blanched when he saw Bash and blew his trumpet.

"His Royal Highness Prince Bastien de Sahar," another man announced.

That brought every eye in the ballroom on the prince and the girl on his arm. Wryn could hear the snickers and the whispers. Nervous goosebumps pricked her skin, and she hoped Bash was right and she really wasn't contiguous, because she thought she might be sick right here and now. Bash led her into the room and she met his eyes and a feeling of ease settled into her veins.

The big room seemed to swallow them up. The crowds of people were all dressed in their best, and Wryn gripped her too-long skirt, hoping she wouldn't trip. Her footsteps seemed to echo on the marble floor, making her feel more and more like an impostor on the arm of a prince. Helplessness gripped her heart, and she turned her gaze to Bash so she wouldn't gawk at the crowd trying not to stare daggers at her.

"Breathe," he said. "Once we start dancing, they'll forget about us."

Once they were on the dance floor, she realized he was right and most of the stares faded. Bash had taught her the steps of a waltz on a rainy afternoon in the attic. She'd thought it was terribly romantic, and she'd pictured them in her mind in a ball similar to this. Now that she was doing it, though, she wondered if it really was everything she wanted.

"I thought we needed to find your sisters," she said.

He twirled her to the beat of the music and she rose her hand to meet his. "I'm looking to see where they are. Relax and enjoy the party for a moment. Don't you trust me?"

She did. Her world didn't always make sense, but Bash had never lied to her. He was always completely honest with her the moment they met about who he was and his own curse. She trusted Bash with her life.

Wryn looked around and she realized she was wrong. They were still the center of attention. She even spotted one young man who looked younger than Bash blatantly staring at them. With his rich, militaristic uniform and fine features, she guessed he was someone important. He kept his eyes fixed on them and Wryn felt small in his gaze.

"Bash," she said. "Who is that?"

He twirled her around and looked in the direction she pointed her head. A frown quickly creased his face and then he smiled as they watched a couple approach the young man. It was clear the young men were brothers from their similar golden hair and sculpted faces. A woman with coppery skin accompanied him, dressed in a pink and gold robe. Her long, loose hair was like the finest strokes of midnight.

"Prince Lorenzo is speaking with the Marquis de Ryne, and my sister Steffie."

"They're looking at us," Wryn tried to keep her voice from shaking. "Why are they looking at us?"

"Probably because I've never brought a girl around," Bash said. "We'll finish this dance and then we can go talk to Steffie."

He seemed so relaxed. Wryn tried to at least radiate the same level of security and confidence as Bash. Her face heated, and she felt like anyone who looked at her might see right through her. Who was she, after all, to dance with a prince?

Bash turned her around as the final notes of the dance brought their hands together and then apart. She took a deep breath and walked off the dance floor with Bash. He led them across the ballroom, over to where his sister and the prince stood.

The princess smiled at Bash but gave Wryn a quizzical look. "Bash, it's good to see you. Who is your friend?"

Her darling Bash didn't hold back with his charming smile that made Wryn's cheeks heat. "Steffie, This is my friend Wryn from Nene."

Princess Estefania de Sahar gave the Cyran prince a strange look. Lorenzo simply raised an eyebrow. Wryn wondered what they had been talking about before they came over. Had they been discussing her?

"Pleased to meet you, Wryn," Estefania turned to her brother. "How did you meet Wryn?"

"I was walking around and when I saw her, I just knew I had to meet her," Bash squeezed her hand. "I wanted to bring her to the ball."

"Welcome to Cyra," Lorenzo's gaze narrowed. "Do I know your family, Wryn?"

She swallowed her fear and decided to lie. "I'm not sure. I'm not close with my family."

The prince didn't seem satisfied with that answer. He looked like he was about to say something when the marquis returned to their group with another golden-haired young man who looked older and his companion made her body stiffen. Her heart skipped a beat. She was caught.

Elowen was here.