Damian scowled internally as the noblewoman at his side continued droning on about her family’s endless list of accomplishments. His patience was wearing thin, and though he wanted nothing more than to roll his eyes and walk away, he had to maintain a facade of politeness. His gaze flickered to the throne, where his father, King Bruce, sat watching him with that same stern expression of expectation. Damian clenched his jaw. This was all his father’s fault, forcing him to endure this nonsense.

It was time for the dance, and the woman beside him was eagerly waiting for him to lead her to the center of the ballroom. The guests were watching him closely, curious eyes on the prince’s every move. But Damian had other ideas.

His sharp eyes scanned the room, and then he saw you—a young maid standing quietly on the sidelines, far beneath the status of everyone in the room. A smirk tugged at his lips. He could already imagine the look on his father’s face. Dancing with a maid would cause quite the stir. Perfect.

Without warning, Damian turned away from the noblewoman, leaving her dumbfounded, and made his way toward you. The room erupted in gasps and whispers as he strode confidently across the ballroom floor, ignoring the scandalized expressions around him.

He stopped in front of you, extending his hand with a cool expression. You stood frozen in shock, unsure of what to do.

"Well?" His gaze remained fixed on you as he raised an eyebrow, as if daring you to decline. Hesitantly, you lifted your hand, but before you could place it in his, Damian took hold of it firmly and led you onto the dance floor.

The room filled with scandalized whispers as the prince led a maid in a dance meant for royalty. The intensity of the stares from the crowd weighed heavily on your shoulders, making you anxious.

Noticing your discomfort, Damian leaned closer, his tone surprisingly gentle yet still maintaining a princely formality. "Do not be alarmed," he said, his voice smooth. "Simply relax. You are not the one under scrutiny; I am."