TO&FQ: Book 2 - Chapter 28 (RAW)

Chapter 28 - Entrance

“Never be the first to arrive at a part or the last to go home and never, never be both.”

- David Brown.

Hughes perched himself on the edge of a plush seat, his back painfully straight as he tried, and failed, to appear at ease. A steaming cup of chamomile tea rattled softly in its saucer beneath his trembling fingertips. He could scarcely believe his fortune. To be in Lady Seraphina’s sitting room, enjoying tea at her invitation, felt like the stuff of impossible dreams. Of course, it wasn’t precisely the Lady herself who poured the tea—her maid, Miriam, did the honors with an expert’s grace and skill—but Hughes allowed his mind to gloss over such trivial details. He had seized upon the certainty that life rewards those who take a bold chance, and here he was, living proof.

He cleared his throat, attempting to control the quiver in his voice. “You look… very lovely, Seraphina,” he managed, feeling the words stumble from his mouth. The moment he spoke her name so plainly, the two attendants, her lady-in-waiting and Miriam, visibly bristled at the bold informality. In contrast, Seraphina’s expression remained as flawlessly serene as a becalmed lake lake. Of late, she had grown accustomed to Hughes addressing her in that casual manner, and it had grown into a practiced indulgence.

In the back of his mind, Hughes knew that any complimentary remarks on her beauty was probably futile. He could only imagine how many times she had been praised, courted, and lauded for her exquisite looks. He needed something fresh, something that would stand out.

Gathering his courage, he tried to quickly follow up. “I mean, well you are too, but that dress you’re wearing—it’s quite beautiful. Did you… did you make it yourself?” Even before the words fully emerged, he cringed internally at his poor delivery. In addition, he knew how absurd it was to ask a highborn noble if she had personally tailored her gown. Still, the words had fled his mouth now, and there was no taking them back.

To his surprise, Seraphina’s face lit up, a small but radiant smile curving her lips. “You think so?” she said lightly, reflecting on how, at the very least, Hughes had a keen eye and good taste. “I designed the cut myself for less formal occasions—something simple, easy to move in, yet still rather striking.” She flicked her gaze appraisingly over him, then added, “Which leads me to my next point… what do you intend to wear to the Ball tonight?”

“The Ball?” His brows knitted together in confusion, heart pounding as it dawned on him that he had given no thought to the evening’s festivities. “I… I wasn’t planning on going at all.”

Seraphina shook her head, an indulgent yet faintly impatient sigh escaping her. “That will not do, Hughes, because I expect you to escort me this evening.”

She was quickly coming to the conclusion that she had been given very poor clay to work with—the type of clay that was likely to crack or bend out of shape in the fire of the kiln.

“Escort… you?” The words stuck in his throat, and he forced them out with a croak. His mind whirled, eyes widening.

She arched a delicate brow. “Yes. You do remember asking me about a week ago, don’t you?” she teased, pouting her lips in mock disappointment. “You were so gallant, so earnest in your request… I simply could not say no, but it seems you’ve forgotten all about it.”

A bolt of cold sweat formed at Hughes’s temple as he realized his memory had betrayed him. How could he have possibly failed to recall such a monumental occasion? He both cursed and praised his fickle mind. In any other situation, discovering such a lapse in memory would be horrifying, but in this instance, it was as if fate had graciously rewritten the story of his life to grant him the chance many would die for. He had apparently asked Lady Seraphina de Sariens, the most dazzling, most sought-after girl in the kingdom, to accompany him to the Ball, and she had said yes.

“Yes, of course,” he blurted, striving for a polished tone that he could not quite master. Even as he spoke, his imagination roamed far ahead. He pictured an entire future with her—managing her sprawling estates, raising two or three bright-eyed children who would surely inherit her poise and beauty. It was so easy to get swept away in the fantasy that he nearly forgot Seraphina was still talking.

“Which brings us back to the matter at hand,” she said, tapping a manicured finger against her saucer. “You must find something suitable to wear. I can’t very well have you on my arm if you show up dressed like a pauper.”

Her words stirred him from his reverie. “Of course,” he responded, his voice awkwardly stiff as he attempted to disguise his mounting excitement. Hughes felt as if he was floating in a dream.

Seraphina gestured toward the door with a languid wave. “Milly will escort you into town. You simply must find proper attire—and quickly. Milly, do take Ibn with you as well; you’ll likely need someone to carry your purchases. It will be good for him.”

Her maid Miriam narrowed her eyes, as though silently questioning Seraphina’s judgment. Nevertheless, she dipped her head in a shallow display of obedience, then stepped forward, her posture rigid. Before Hughes could utter a word of thanks or confusion, Miriam seized him firmly by the arm. The contrast between her polite smile and the iron grip on his elbow was startling.

“This way, Master Hughes,” she said through gritted teeth, giving him a not-so-gentle tug. “Time works against us.”

As he allowed himself to be guided, almost dragged, across the threshold, Hughes could not help but cast one last, longing glance back at Lady Seraphina. She sipped her tea, a faint smile playing on her lips, and offered him a graceful, encouraging nod that made his heart flutter. He felt as if he were walking on clouds, convinced that fate had spun a fantastic tapestry, and he had somehow waltzed into the center of it.

***

It was far from a perfect solution, but for something pieced together at the last minute, it would have to suffice. At least Seraphina had the small benefit of having been seen with Hughes a few times already, making the whole thing slightly more believable.

Now that he was fitted in proper attire, Hughes looked passably presentable. His new ensemble featured a lavish doublet of deep lazuli velvet, sleeves puffed with shimmering satin panels, and ornate brass cuffs securing them neatly at the wrists. Beneath that, a slim waistcoat embroidered with delicate golden thread peeked out at the collar, offering a subtle regal flourish. Matching trousers tailored close to the leg and tall, polished leather boots completed the outfit. The overall effect was bold yet refined—an attention-grabbing triumph of high fashion that pleased Seraphina greatly. Hughes, meanwhile, found himself mostly thankful that such a wardrobe, which would cost an ordinary peasant two years of labor, was simply being provided to him.

Yet for all of his fine clothes, it irked Seraphina that Hughes still appeared so… painfully ordinary. She could already imagine the storm of gossip that would inevitably follow. Still, on the one hand, showing up with a boy who was clearly beneath her rank might deter the usual flock of fawning admirers. But, on the other, it most certainly would undermine a lot of her social status, especially in the eyes of the likes of Rashana and that insufferable tubster, Michelié. Seraphina could almost already hear their delighted jibes, and it grated on her nerves.

Still, she reminded herself, this was precisely why she had chosen Hughes rather than attending the ball alone. He posed no threat, and he seemed entirely lacking in guile. Above all, he was comfortably under her thumb. It was still a shame that not a bit taller or wider of shoulders…

At least Eloise understood her predicament and the harrowing choice she’d had to make. However, hopefully, with a little luck and some well-placed counter rumors, the student body would be led to believe that Seraphina had chosen a commoner over the Crown Prince of her own accord. Let the scandal swirl around Velens instead of herself.

She had even excused her Knights from their usual “covert” security detail for the evening, hoping they would enjoy the festivities themselves. At this point it was more or less an open secret that the boys were her protectors. Besides, if there was any danger tonight, it would likely be someone spilling their drink on her gown rather than an actual threat.

Seraphina also remembered, with faint amusement, that there were no age restrictions on alcohol in this world. Drinking was perfectly acceptable, even at a young age. In her past life, one could marry younger than the legal drinking age; an illogical situation that never ceased to baffle her. 

Tonight, she intended to indulge heavily, enough to forget all the vexing details of her new reality, if only for a few hours. And if fortune favored her, enough to wipe out the memories of the evening altogether.

And so the three of them waited. They sat in the common room—Seraphina’s private sitting area, really, since none of the other girls dared intrude there—while Desdemona and Eloise departed to the ball with their respective escorts. Desdemona was on the arm of some lord’s son whose name Seraphina could not recall, though she remembered he had notably trim figure, his hose hugging a remarkable bottom. Eloise, luckier by far, accompanied the dashing Sir Gravens. Seraphina felt a pang of envy at the thought of how blissfully radiant those two must have looked walking away together. She sighed, if only Gravens were a little higher on the social ladder…

She allowed her mind to wander briefly to Sir Gallant, a knight in the King’s service with a truly handsome looks and form. For him, she swooned in her mind, Seraphina would quite easily forgive the large difference in rank between them. As it was in her old world and life, that was the problem with being so high a rank; the pool of suitable partners dwindled rather rapidly. Wasn’t he teacher here now?

A quiet question from Hughes brought her back to the moment. “Why are we waiting, Seraphina?”

“Timing, dear Hughes,” she explained, her gaze lingering on the white fur draped across the settee. Fashioned from the pelt of the formidable Kronir of the north, it was a precious rarity. She unconciously touched the spot at her thigh where a hidden stiletto lay strapped. “One doesn’t simply appear at a ball, and one certainly does not arrive on time. One makes an entrance.”

“I don’t quite understand,” Hughes ventured, his confusion quite apparent.

“You don’t have to,” Seraphina replied, the smile on her face as sweet as spun sugar. “We’ll leave in half a turn of the glass or so.” She noted Miriam’s withering glare at Hughes , but decided to ignore it. Seraphina knew precisely when she wanted to appear, fashionably late.

The three settled back into an uncomfortable silence until Seraphina finally rose with a graceful swirl of skirts. It was time.

***

With her heels, she and Hughes stood at nearly the same height as they made their way to the Great Hall—the same place where Seraphina had once delivered her address to the student body. Tonight, it had been transformed into a splendid banquet and dance hall, illuminated by the glow of Zajasite sconces high on the walls.

Long tables lined the edges of the vast space, bearing an array of lavish dishes that seemed more like miniature works of art than just food. Intricately carved ice sculptures glimmered at intervals, capturing the dancing light and reflecting it in brilliant shards. Clusters of aristocratic students formed small social circles around the room, their embroidered silks and glittering jewels rustling and flashing every time they moved. Toward the far end of the hall, Seraphina spotted Haze Finleigh in a green gown, playing a lively jig with a band of musicians, the music mingling with the hum of genteel laughter.

As Seraphina and Hughes stepped through the great swinging doors and across the threshold, the chatter in the hall subsided, as though the entire gathering paused to watch their entry. Seraphina lifted her chin, offering a regal smile and an elegant adjustment of the fur at her shoulders. A wave of excited whispers swept through the crowd as she held their attention.

She was unaware of the sharp looks Hughes was drawing from several of the young men, who glowered at him with thinly veiled envy. Even those accompanied by charming escorts of their own couldn’t help but glare at the seemingly average young man at Seraphina’s side. Yet Hughes, oblivious to most of the glances, felt only a rush of awe at the sight of it all and the breathtaking young noblewoman leaning ever so slightly against his arm.