The Emerald-Opal Heir - 10

The Prince

Beckett was looking forward to his dance with Alys. It was possibly the only good thing that could happen at this stupid, useless ball. 

“You look handsome,” Alys commented when Beckett arrived at her door to escort her to the dance. He blushed, not quite getting what Alys was saying. His jacket was specially made to glimmer silver in some lighting and emerald in the others. 

“You look stunning,” he replied, truly meaning his words. In her pink and gold dress, she could be a goddess. And those flowers in her hair? Beautiful. 

He extended an arm and Alys took it gently. Despite the warmth that the party would likely have, Alys still wore her gloves, although they were a golden color this time. Beckett made no comment, adding only polite chatter on their walk to the ballroom. 

Baelle’s staff had certainly outdone themselves this time. The windows that stretched from the floor to the ceiling were so clear that if the panes weren’t there, it would’ve looked as though the room was open to the air. Strands of ivy were draped across nearly every vertical surface to give the illusion of a garden and the tables around the outside of the room were decked with bouquets of flowers. 

“Are you sitting with your family for the meal?” he asked. 

Alys nodded. “But as soon as we’re done eating, I’ll find you and we can dance. Enjoy your meal.” 

There was something thick in her voice when she spoke, and her fingers trembled when she slipped out of Beckett’s hand. Probably just nerves. After all, shouldn’t she be worried about dancing with a prince? 

Beckett made his way to Baelle’s table at the front of the room. The goddess herself wasn’t here yet, but the lords and ladies from the various patron regions milled around aimlessly, waiting for the gala to begin. The villagers from Argenti and Viridi wouldn’t be allowed in until later, when all the food was consumed - a way to enforce social standings. 

Sitting at Beckett’s table were a handful of soldiers, one of Baelle’s advisors, and two boys who looked to be about Beckett’s age. 

Beckett took a seat next to the one with dark skin and wide eyes. The boy didn’t look familiar, and his outfit was surprisingly dull. Beckett noted the pale scars on his hands and face and wondered if they had anything to do with the boy’s hunched shoulders and fearful gaze. 

The other boy, however, looked almost exactly like Beckett. His skin was pale and his hair was so blonde it was nearly white. The faces weren’t a complete match, and the other boy’s skin contained just a bit more color, like life had yet to be leached from him. His steely gaze reminded Beckett of what he saw every day when he looked in the mirror. 

“Hi, I’m Prince Beckett,” he began, extending a hand to shake to the first boy. “Who are you?” 

It was the pale boy who responded instead. “Don’t you dare talk to him, Your Highness.” He scoffed the title in a way that twisted Beckett’s stomach into knots. “You don’t address either of us.” 

“Sorry?” Beckett was so taken aback that he was unsure of what exactly to say in response. What could he possibly reply with? “I, uh, hope you enjoy the party then.” 

He turned away, searching for Alys to try and make eye contact or something when the boy with the scars made a noise. The two boys engaged in a quiet conversation and Beckett turned back to watch them, surprised to find that neither were entirely speaking. 

“I know, I know,” the blonde one whispered. “C’mon, Glass, seriously?”

The first boy - Glass - made a noise that sounded like a strangled animal. The second one sighed at last and finally looked up to meet Beckett’s eyes again. “My brother says I shouldn’t scorn you for something you never wanted.” 

“Brother?” Beckett asked before he could help himself. Embarrassment tinted the edges of his ears pink, but neither boy seemed to notice. 

The blonde one nodded. “I’m … Steel. And this is Glass. We’re twins.” 

Beckett almost laughed from the combination of the names and the idea that these two boys who looked nothing alike were brothers. 

Steel noticed his confusion and clarified, “I’m under a potion. It’s part of the Baelle’s plan. Glass and I have been cooped up in the Viridi with Seron, the Goddess of Elixirs. I’m your body double, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Won’t it be weird if there are two of us tonight, though?” Beckett asked, mind reeling about the fact that this boy was basically his replacement. If he had to guess, Steel was the name given by Seron - who was probably Baelle’s counterpart - to remind the boy that his life was forfeit. 

“Assassination attempts,” Steel grumbled. “Hopefully they will try to take me out instead of you.”

Beckett thought for a moment. “Tonight will be busy. I would cover for you guys if you, y’know, tried to make a run for it.” He made sure his voice was low so the soldiers sitting with them wouldn’t hear. It was the least he could do. 

Steel and Glass shared a look. “We can’t,” Steel mumbled. “The last time I tried to run away, Seron cut out Glass’s tongue.” 

Dread churned in Beckett’s gut like a story sea. Goddesses. These boys were constantly being punished because of him. They were probably taken from their parents for this sliver of a life. It explained the scars and strange noises that Glass possessed. 

“I’m sorry,” Beckett choked out, his voice hoarse. 

Steel shrugged nonchalantly, though there was a certain stiffness to his movement. “You can’t change anything now. At least we’re not in the slums.” 

Palace life is almost worse, Beckett wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut because just then Baelle and another woman - Seron, if Beckett had to guess - strutted into the ballroom with an air of arrogance around them. 

Both wore gowns of pure white, but it was obvious that the two were in any way innocent. Baelle’s dark waves were tied back in an eloquent braid that draped over one shoulder of her dress. Her eyes glittered with a dark malevolence as she glanced at every person in the room. At her side was Seron, whose graying hair was red at the tips, the same color as blood. Her face was emotionless and Beckett could tell that even the Goddess of Elixirs had yet to find a potion for feelings. 

The room fell silent around them as they made their way to the table Beckett, Glass, and Steel were sitting at. Seron took a seat on the other side of Steel, her fingers immediately drifting to the knife laid beside her plate. An unspoken threat that sent shivers down Beckett’s spine but didn’t seem to faze Steel. 

Baelle, on the other hand, stood at her spot, plastering on that fake smile of hers. When she spoke, her voice bounced off the walls naturally so that everyone in the room could hear her. “Welcome, everyone, to our very own Solar Spring Ball. As you all know, Solar Spring is the time of year when winter passes into spring and our moon is obscured for one night as the darkness that wipes the year clean and hands us a fresh beginning. This year, I would like to celebrate this beautiful tradition with a ball and a proposition for all of you. However, because this is a holiday and not just a political meeting, we’ll keep the boring stuff for later. Tonight we will dance to our hearts content. Don’t be alarmed when the room continually darkens - it will be impossible to see by midnight. However, at midnight, the sun will brighten the room and give us a fresh start. But for now, let us enjoy the food brought before us by my marvelous kitchen staff. Enjoy!” 

The crowd clapped nervously and Baelle curtsied before taking her seat at the table. 

Beckett was too focused on Baelle’s words. The room continually darkens and it will be impossible to see by midnight. 

When no one was looking, he made sure to pocket a knife. 

It was finally time for the dancing, and Beckett’s body was alight with nerves. His fingers prickled as he met eyes with Alys from across the room, silently asking her if she was ready. Alys’s returning glance told him that she was more than prepared. 

With dinner stretching for nearly two hours, Beckett was more than done with the ball. Baelle then stood and talked for a while about the importance of new beginnings and forgetting past grudges. 

Now the doors were open to the public and a small band had taken up residence in a small corner, striking a sweet tune as lords and ladies milled about and chatted. 

Beckett felt a little guilty leaving Steel and Glass at the table with Seron, but whether he was sitting with them wouldn’t make a difference in their treatment. Glass sent him a longing look, but Beckett tried to ignore it. 

He found Alys in the center of the ballroom, her arms wrapped around herself. 

“How was the meal?” he asked, trying to be polite as he caught Baelle watching him from her conversation with two random villagers. 

Alys shrugged, seemingly distracted. “I suppose it was okay.” 

Just okay? The food had been absolutely divine but Beckett didn’t want to talk about it if Alys didn’t care for it. 

“Would you like to dance?” he tried. 

Alys glanced around the room. “No one else is. 

“Would it bother you if we were the center of attention?” 

Alys averted her gaze. “You’re a prince, Beck. I’m the daughter of some random nobles and you’re the heir to both kingdoms.”

Her unspoken words floated between them, an ugly reminder of their duties. 

“Is that what really bothers you?” he asked quietly, not daring to make his voice loud because that meant that this was real. That Alys felt worthless beside him. 

“I’m not feeling the best right now,” Alys admitted. “But that’s not the point. We can’t dance together when everyone is watching. Baelle would kill both of us. I am nothing compared to you, Beckett.”

Funny, he wanted to say. Because that’s how I feel everytime I look at you. 

Instead he said, “If you’re feeling sick, we don’t have to dance-”

Alys cut him off sharply. “We are dancing, Your Highness, whether you want to or not. I just … Can we sit for a little?” 

 Beckett nodded stiffly, escorting Alys back to her table. Both of her parents and her brother were gone, so Beckett took the opportunity to sit beside her. Alys buried her head in her gloved hands, golden hair falling over the edges of the table. 

His gaze drifted to the growing crowds of peasants. The food was gone now so the villagers had no chance at feeling special. 

A girl in a purple dress stumbled into the room and for some reason, her appearance caught Beckett’s attention. She didn’t look familiar with hair so dark it was nearly black, but something about her demeanor reminded him of someone, though he couldn’t put his finger on who it was. 

He watched the girl for a little longer but soon she disappeared into the crowds of people. Beckett turned his attention back to Alys, who was now staring at him intensely. 

“What?” He reached up to touch his face, afraid for a second that he had food or something smeared on his skin. 

“Can we talk?” Her voice was high and light, her fingers trembling inside of her trademark gloves. She glanced around the room nervously. “Somewhere private,” she added. “Please?” 

Beckett nodded, unsure of what else to say. His heart was practically in his throat now. 

He and Alys got to their feet, making their way towards the doors to the room. So what if it was against Baelle’s orders to sneak out, Alys needed to say something and-

Alys stumbled over a chair and Beckett realized that it was becoming really hard to see. 

Baelle’s warning flashed in his mind about the room turning dark near midnight. He checked the clock in the back of the room, almost completely sure it wasn’t midnight yet. He couldn’t see through the quickly falling darkness and the rest of the room was falling too silent to ask Alys anything. 

What was going on? 

The girl in the purple dress slipped by him again, recoiling as she grew closer to him. It was then that Beckett realized where he knew her from. 

Emmeline. 

His friends were here - despite his warning - and they were going to take out Baelle not knowing all of the contingency plans the goddess had in place. 

Beckett grabbed Alys’s wrist, dragging her towards the door only to find it was locked. 

Alys whimpered at his side and Beckett reached for the knife in his pocket. That was when the world went completely dark and a scream erupted from the center of it all.