The gala had been unfolding smoothly for hours, nobility from across the kingdom gathered beneath Ashworth Palace's magnificent chandeliers to celebrate the upcoming royal anniversary. Duchess Constance had spent the evening moving confidently through the crowd, accepting compliments on her elaborate black gown and pearl-adorned tiara with practiced, aristocratic grace.
Everything shifted the moment a young woman collapsed near the ballroom's edge, her sudden fall drawing immediate attention from nearby guests. Rather than rushing to assist, Constance had approached the unconscious girl with narrowed, suspicious eyes, quickly recognizing something familiar in her features that unsettled her deeply.
"Someone check who this girl is," Constance demanded sharply, her voice carrying easily across the nearby crowd, though her tone carried more accusation than genuine concern. When a nearby guest mentioned rumors that the unconscious girl might be connected to the royal bloodline through an unacknowledged lineage, Constance's expression hardened instantly into open hostility.
"There's no way she has Royal blood," she announced loudly, pointing an accusatory finger toward the motionless young woman, her voice sharp enough to draw the attention of nearly everyone remaining in the ballroom. Guests exchanged uneasy glances, several recognizing the dangerous territory Constance was wading into, though nobody dared challenge her directly.
Nobody yet realized that Prince Alexander, standing near the ballroom's entrance in his formal military uniform, had overheard every word of Constance's cruel dismissal, his expression darkening rapidly as he began making his way purposefully through the crowded room.