The Ashworth Palace ballroom had hosted countless royal galas over the decades, but none of them had ever ended quite like this one. Beneath the glittering chandeliers, surrounded by nobility dressed in their finest gowns and decorated uniforms, Duchess Constance Ashworth stood pointing an accusing finger across the room, her voice sharp enough to cut through the string quartet's gentle melody. "There's no way she has Royal blood," she announced loudly, her tiara catching the light as she glared toward a young woman lying motionless on the marble floor near the ballroom's edge.
Nobody had rushed to help the unconscious girl yet, guests instead whispering nervously among themselves, uncertain whether to intervene in what was clearly becoming a tense confrontation between the Duchess and the girl's unclear claims to royal heritage. It took the arrival of Prince Alexander, striding purposefully through the crowded ballroom in full military regalia, to finally shift the room's attention away from gossip and toward genuine concern.
Alexander walked directly past the unconscious young woman, his jaw tight with barely controlled fury, before stopping squarely in front of Duchess Constance. Without hesitation, without a single word of warning, his hand moved swiftly, delivering a sharp, resounding slap across her face that echoed through the stunned ballroom. Guests gasped audibly, several stepping backward in shock, unable to process what they had just witnessed from a member of the royal family.
Constance staggered backward, her hand flying instinctively to her stinging cheek, her earlier confidence replaced instantly by stunned disbelief. Alexander's eyes, a striking shade of blue now filled with unshed tears of rage, remained locked onto her with an intensity that silenced whatever protest she had been preparing to voice. "Watch your mouth, woman," he said, his voice low and unmistakably threatening, carrying easily across the frozen ballroom despite its quiet delivery.
King Frederick, watching the confrontation unfold from a few steps away, straightened his decorated uniform and stepped forward with the calm, unwavering authority of a man accustomed to commanding respect in even the most volatile situations. "This is Royal business," he said firmly, his tone leaving absolutely no room for further debate. "It's not up for discussion." Nobody in that ballroom yet understood just how deeply this single, unconscious young woman on the floor was about to upend generations of carefully guarded royal secrets.