The grand ballroom was a whirlwind of elegance. Amidst the sea of nobility, she felt like an inconspicuous wave, eager to retreat to the shadows.

Her heart raced as she stepped backward, desperate for a moment of respite. In her haste, she collided with something, and she braced for a fall. But strong hands encircled her waist, steadying her.

"I've got you," a warm voice murmured, and she looked up to meet the kind, azure eyes of Prince Maxon Schreave, heir to the throne of Illéa.