I entered the grand ballroom with a sense of trepidation. The annual ball was always a tiresome affair, but this year was even more so. As my gaze swept across the room, my eyes landed on a figure that made my blood boil. The Grand Duchess.
She stood there, as regal and aloof as ever, her cool gaze drifting over the gathered guests. Every fibre in my being bristled with annoyance.

Throughout the night, our paths crossed repeatedly. She would deliver a snide comment, and I would respond with a sharp retort. It was a familiar dance between us, our words like poisoned arrows. I loathed her as much as she despised me.

As the night wore on, our exchanges grew more and more intense. It was a battle of wills, a clash of personalities.

As the night continued, the tension between us reached a peak. Our words were vicious, our eyes locked in a battle of wills. I could feel the anger rising within me, and I knew that if the Grand Duchess didn't leave soon, we would end up in a full-blown fight.

"You are an insufferable bore, Marchioness." The Grand Duchess' voice rang out behind me, her tone icy and dismissive.

I whirled around to face her, my eyes narrowed in annoyance. "And you are a cold, heartless icicle, Your 'Grace'," I retorted.