I never liked the embroidered ball tradition.

My brother, Cassian, adored it. He thought it romantic—symbolic of legacy and fate. But to me, it felt like spectacle, a way to wrap marriage in silk and ritual. Toss a golden-threaded ball and marry whoever catches it. Fate, wrapped in false charm.

As the eldest son of House Nox, I was expected to go along with it, smile through the velvet mask. We were on the estate balcony, the courtyard glimmering with lanterns, music weaving between the pillars. Nobles lined the space in shimmering gowns, each trying to look like they weren’t trying.

Cassian leaned to me and whispered, “I’m aiming for Lady Vaeleen. If I catch her, Father can’t argue.”

I gave a lazy shrug. “So long as you don’t miss.”

I wasn’t paying much attention. Not until I saw her.

A beggar, or so I thought at first. She stood at the very back, half in shadow, her rags too carefully layered to be true scraps. Her hands were stained with dirt, but her posture… it gave her away. She held herself like someone who knew the weight of crowns. Her eyes—sharp, observant, and far too calm—locked with mine for a moment. Something about her didn’t sit right. Not in a bad way—just… different.

Next to her, a flustered servant whispered something, but she only smirked, a flash of rebellion tucked beneath her quiet disguise.

The ball was brought forward. First throw, mine. As custom dictated.

I stepped to the edge of the balcony.

Cassian shifted too close. His elbow nudged mine—not an accident. My foot caught on the hem of the carpet.

I stumbled.

And my ball slipped.

It soared, clean and fast—arcing above the nobles—and dropped right into her arms.

She caught it.

Everyone turned.

Silence.

Cassian grinned triumphantly, launching his own ball straight into Lady Vaeleen’s expectant hands. Cheers erupted. The crowd celebrated.

But I stared downward, locked with her gaze.

She wasn’t smiling. She looked startled, like she’d just stepped into a world she wasn’t meant to see.

My chest tightened.

I should’ve demanded the ball back. Called it a mistake. Re-thrown it.

But I didn’t.

Because she stood there, in dirt and rags, like a fallen star pretending to be dust. Not ashamed. Just wondering what would come next.

Beside her, the servant—who clearly wasn’t just a servant—murmured in panic, “No, no, mistress. You can’t let this happen. The kingdom would go mad.”

She answered quietly, “He won’t marry me. Dressed like this? I’m posing as a beggar. Royals don’t even look at beggars. He wouldn’t marry me.”

But I was still staring. Because I recognized something familiar beneath the soot.

Not just her bearing.

Her eyes.

The same fierce dignity I’d seen in ambassadors from the Kingdom of 忠実な—the second-highest honored realm. The Kingdom of Loyalty.

A princess. Hiding in plain sight. Why?

I didn’t know.

But I wanted to find out.

The court muttered around me. My father’s face tightened in disapproval. Cassian smirked at his rich catch.

But I kept staring at her.

A beggar.

A liar.

A royal.

And maybe—just maybe—mine.