"How do I look?" Rid pivoted on himself. He donned a knee-length, loose-fitting, beige tunic. It was similar to the tunic they wore before, albeit without the stains. They wore their own boots and cinching belt.

"The same," Lach responded curtly, and Rid's enthusiasm fell to the ground. "Come on. This our chance!" Rid gripped a shoulder, shaking him softly, certainly hoping to get rid of his sour mood.

But Lach couldn't help it. Being here with these people was like a knife scraping his skin. "Our chance for what?" He spat at last.

"For a better life." A serious tone had settled in the atmosphere. He understood. Really, he did. Rid had always hoped for more than this life at the stable. He was gripped with that soaring ideal that something better would await them. Lach couldn't blame him, for he had that light inside that would flicker at the same ideal but was too often blown by the hard punch of reality, and tonight was no exception. Being in the same room as a noble wouldn't make you a noble. That was what Lach tried to drill into his mind.

Lach shook himself away from his grip. "Serving those people? This is what you call a better life?" Rid would see an opportunity to be equal, while Lach was reminded of their inequality.

Rid's pursed his lips. "You can't stay in that stables if you want to get ahead."

A knot in Lach's throat kept tightening at the thought. "I would rather have my tongue cut." He knew what people with titles or money could do. He had seen it firsthand ten years ago.

Rid crossed his arms. "You are being dramatic.

A dull gaze. "You are being delusional."

Rid sighed before his signature grin overpowered Lach's ability to spoil the mood. "Like it or not, by the end of this night, our purse will be heavier than ever." And that's probably while Lach was donning the same tunic at that moment. "You might even see that girl and finally get her name."

Lach frowned. "I don't believe she would attend the ceremony. She said to be a chambermaid." Well, that was what he understood from their conversation.

Before Rid could try to lift Lach's mood, the stablemaster cut their conversation short. " Stablemen!" Both men stood up straight. He was accompanied by a tall, lanky man with deep wrinkles. He wore a brown velvet jacket with a matching headdress in a cone shape and an austere air that paled the gloomy grey of the castled stone. "This is the Steward of the castle. Lord Clemence."

The Lord stepped in, and his austere air spread like a mist. A close set of marble grey eyes pierced through the stablemen. "As you know, tonight is the Princess' ceremony. This ball will determine the future of Ornuv. Our future. Your future and the one of your family." Lach repressed the envy to shrink his nose. He settled for a tight jaw. "I count on you to represent Ornuv in the best light. Or..." He narrowed his eyes. "You might forget your coins."

They both nodded tightly before the Steward led them through a parade of long hallways to the ceremonial room. The walk was so long it seemed like he went through a whole city.

Upon entering, Lach's eyes were struck by beauty, elegance, and above all, abundance. The walls were painted a bold violet, symbolizing Ornuv's colors. Massive pearly chandeliers hung from the soaring high ceilings carved with intricate gold designs so meticulously that Lach could believe the Sun God itself had modeled it with his own hands. Large paintings retracing the royal family history hung on every wall next to Ornuv's emblematic coat of arms: A yellow sun posing over two crossed swords.

Lach's mouth hung. His eyes stung from the shiny gold on every piece of art, wall, or structure. "Oh, Sun God..." Rid trailed off, eyes sparkling. "Is it even real?" he breathed, turning around, pulled in by every corner. He didn't know where to look or go, and Lach felt the same. His eyes finally posed on a portrait. It was of the current King with the late Queen. Lach's eyes narrowed as he observed the little girl sitting graciously between them. Large doe eyes on a heart-shaped face. Lach stepped closer, head tilting to the side, immersed in a feeling of deja-vu. Flowers, sunny days, and chuckles flashed his mind in a haze, but before he could dive into his mind long enough to wipe that fogginess away, the Steward commanded them in line with the other servants.

The two young men inserted themselves in the line, erecting their spines and tying their hands behind their backs, imitating the stance of the others donning the same garb. "Wait for the signal," the Steward directed.

"Yes, sir!"

The ballroom was soon swarmed with many nobles donning air as haughty as their extravagant attire. Women's skirts got more significant as they arrived, paralleling men's chests, which got puffier after each entry. Lach's eyed them, his contempt miraculously hidden behind an inscrutable face. One night. He could keep his repugnance away from one night.

His eyes traveled to the back of the room. A gold chair with an oval back and a halo of spikes loomed over the guests as it sat on the top of a platform accessible by stairs.

The Sun Throne.

The King would probably be there soon, and Lach shifted his weight on his other leg. This man was the reason for many if not all, ailments plaguing Ornuv today. But above all, he was the reason why his family was left broken. His hands tightened behind his back, repressing the anger, the burning pain still coursing through his veins. It was his damn fault as the head of the justice. Lach's jaw clenched so hard his teeth hurt. He was the one. The pain, the tears, the sorrow, the aching screams. He was the-

"Hey," Rid's voice brought Lach's back, and he found concerning green eyes. "Are you well? You look like a boiling cauldron."

His jaw slackened, but it still hurt. "I am fine."

"You need to simmer down before the old man catches you throwing daggers at the guests." Lach inhaled deeply. He knew Rid was right and settled his anger in a safe, keeping it away but warm. 

Lach's eyes fell back on the growing crowd, and he grinned. The Lord, with short legs that almost fell down face-first on the snow earlier, was waggling around like a duckling in search of his mama. He nudged Rid. "Here is your way to a better life." he jutted his chin towards the man, and Rid stifled a burst of explosive laughter.

"You know my tastes so well," he replied before his eyes beamed. "I think I found a more interesting target." Lach followed his gaze and found a young Lady with pale skin and curly blond hair falling down her back. Her thin neck carried the thickest diamond necklace Lach had ever seen, and Lach understood why he made her his target. She looked their way, and Rid's gaze narrowed into a primal suave look that Lach wished to erase from his memory.

While Rid wiggled his eyebrows, hoping the Lady understood his signals, Lach scrutinized the crowd, jumping from head to head. Rid may have been right, and the girl will be here tonight. His quest stopped as he fell upon the man in the red uniform he had seen earlier at the gate too. He hadn't lost any of his grace or charisma between that moment and now. His movements still exuded them, commanding the crowd of fawning ladies around him. Ezri, Prince of Mias. Lach only knew a little about Mias, if at all. He only knew that the sun was always shining brightly there and that they had been against the war. For that sole reason, his presence was surprising.

A few more guests entered before two strokes of staff echoed in the room, cutting conversations off and attracting gazes to a man with deep lines and dropping eyes dressed in an oversized tunic. "The King is arriving." The guests straightened up, and Lach's face tensed. A few seconds passed, where the pulse of Lach's veins echoed inside in his ears. "Lords and Ladies, here I present you, his Majesty, Bantu the King of Ornuv!" The crowd exploded into cheers, and the large oak doors opened up to let the ruler in. 

The man entered. His rich melanin was decorated with an embellished byzantine tunic and intricated goldwork thread under a fur coat that emphasized his large shoulders. He stood tall, taller than most. His face was the most intimidating feature of all, prominent nose and complex features carved in like a stone. Despite the folding skin under his heavy eyes - eyes that seemed like they had seen too much -, it didn't take away from his commanding presence. All gold and magnificence. The depiction of a sun sitting on two crossed swords was carved on the crown. A symbol utterly complicated to ignore as it clothed the castle's every wall.

Everyone bowed down as he passed on the red carpet leading towards the throne. As he sat, the guest stood straight again in a silent understanding.

"Friends of the continent. Welcome to the ceremony of the eighteen birthday of Amaya Princess of Ornuv," the old man with the staff said as he stood now before the King. "The Princess is now at the age of adulthood." Down the platform before the first step stood a panoply of men. Lach believed it to be the royal council. Among them, Commander Zakrus's eyes darted toward the crowd with his icy stare. An uneasy feeling went through Lach's spine. The old man's staff stroked two times again. "Now let's welcome Amaya, Princess of Ornuv!"

Rid's lips stretched in a gleeful smile. "I have been waiting for this moment my whole life. The Sun of Ornuv, our diamond."

Though he never really thought about the Princess, he was still curious about her appearance since none had seen her. He had heard a ton. Rumors had said she was the most beautiful Princess of the continent. That none would equal her beauty, for she was blessed by the Sun God itself. Lach had quite a difficult time believing it as he had already seen what the blessing of the Sun God looked like in human form. Still, he pivoted his head to the door as it creaked open again.

A deafening silence settled into the large room as everyone held their breath in anticipation, Lach included.

Light poured down on the Princess, like a celestial introduction, revealing the face that thousands had imagined but never come close to picturing. But Lach had more than imagined it. He had seen it up close. Dread dragged him to the floor. His face paled while the guests' ones bloomed with awe and enchantment as she passed by.

It couldn't be.

It couldn't be her.

He couldn't keep his eyes away from her, searching for an error, something to prove that it wasn't her, but those doe eyes, those plump lips, that dark skin like the starry night there was not mistaken.

The girl from the stables was standing in the most beautiful piece of fabric Lach had ever seen, and he wanted to throw up.

He was screwed. So utterly and definitely screwed.