Waltz were a recurring tradition in the kingdom, a way of keeping the social life active and, in many cases, of establishing alliances. For Priscilla, however, these evenings represented a constant reminder of her position and the expectations placed upon her. As a princess and future queen, her attendance was mandatory, and standing out was more of a responsibility than a choice.

  But what made her most uncomfortable was not the attention she received, but the reason behind it. She knew she was not admired for her intelligence, her skill in sports or her wit, but simply because she wore the crown. The suitors who approached her did so in the hope of securing a place on the throne, not out of a genuine interest in her as a person. That idea repulsed her deeply.

  In this social context, any family with sufficient resources could organize a ball. The financing, the invitations, and the success of the event were the responsibility of the hosts. This year, the Akvis, known for their eccentric choice of themes, sent out an invitation for their next celebration.

  The Akvis family always left a distinctive mark on their events, and this time was no exception. The “Dagger Ball” was their proposal for the year, a name that caused surprise and curiosity, although not entirely unexpected. In previous years, they had presented the “Martyrdom Ball” and the “Desolation Ball”. Their predilection for dark and dramatic themes was well known.

  In addition to their thematic peculiarity, the Akvis had a style that set them apart. Their outfits were a mixture of dark tones: deep blacks, intense reds or somber shades of green. Their hairstyles were extravagant, as if every detail was carefully designed to make an impact and not go unnoticed.

  The invitation, decorated with illustrations of daggers and silver filigree, arrived at the royal palace. The unique name of the event came as no surprise to Priscilla or her grandmother. What caught their attention was the accompanying requirement: each guest was to wear a dagger that represented their inner self. An unusual condition, even by Akvis standards.

  The invitation also arrived at the Valois mansion, causing the same reaction in Maximo. He was already used to the extravagant names the Akvis chose for their balls, but that didn't stop him from being a little surprised every year. Maximo preferred the more classical themes, such as those evoking flowers or seasons, but he knew that the Akvis were unique in their style.

  —The dagger dance? — Maximo muttered as he read the invitation. —What will be next? The poison dance? — His mother, always patient with the social eccentricities of the kingdom, simply laughed as she arranged the details of her own attire.

  Although he did not share the Akvis' enthusiasm for the dramatic, Maximo knew that he would attend, as would Princess Priscilla and many other important families. These events were more than just social gatherings; they were spaces for observing, conversing and, sometimes, discovering unexpected things about others.

  And although Maximo was not someone who enjoyed excess or pretension, there was a part of him that silently began to look forward to these encounters.

  The following day, the queen had requested that a wide selection of daggers be brought to the palace, so that she and Priscilla could choose at their leisure. The Akvis had the particular ability to impose extravagant requirements at their balls, something that did not go unnoticed by anyone.

  —The Akvis always force us to acquire such unusual objects. — said the queen as she watched the servants open the boxes and display the daggers on long tables covered with black velvet.

  Priscilla, standing next to her, rolled her eyes. — I wouldn't be surprised if next year they call it “the dance of lust” or something equally strange.

  The queen let out a little laugh. —With them, anything is possible.

  The boxes opened one after the other, and soon the room was filled with metallic sparkles and brilliant gems. The daggers were arranged as if they were part of a luxurious exhibition, each one more elaborate than the last. The queen and Priscilla walked calmly, carefully observing each one.

  —Take your time, dear. Don't choose just for appearance; it should be something that really represents you. — the queen advised her.

  Priscilla nodded, but nothing seemed to catch her attention. She passed by the tables without stopping too long, until she reached the end of the room. There, in an open suitcase, something caught her eye. She stopped, leaning forward slightly to get a better look.

  A man who appeared to be in charge of the selection approached her with a professional smile.

  — Princess, this is a collection of obsidian combined with pure steel. Some have ruby details, others emeralds, and there are also some with rose quartz. — he explained as he pointed to each dagger he mentioned.

  —Obsidian… — Priscilla murmured to herself, her thoughts beginning to wander.

  The depth of the obsidian captivated her, as if that intense blackness hid stories and secrets. Her eyes went back and forth between a dagger with ruby details and another adorned with rose quartz. Both had an elegant and powerful design, but she couldn't decide.

  Finally, she looked up and spoke with determination. — I want both: the quartz one and the ruby one. I need them to make me a double belt so I can wear them both.

  The manager nodded respectfully. — Of course, princess. An excellent choice. I'll make sure the belt is ready in time.

  —Thank you very much, sir. — Priscilla replied with a slight bow.

  At that moment, the queen approached, observing her granddaughter's choice with interest. — Have you chosen yet?

  Priscilla nodded with a smile. — Of course. Which one is yours?

  The queen pointed to a more discreet but equally elegant dagger, made of white quartz with blue diamond accents. — I chose this one. It has a serene but strong energy. I see you decided on the obsidian one. It reminds me of your mother.

  The comment caused them both to fall silent for a moment. Priscilla looked down at the daggers she had picked, feeling a pang of emotion.

  —Really? — she asked softly, looking up at her grandmother.

  The queen nodded, and a nostalgic smile spread across her face. — Your mother loved obsidian. She said it was a symbol of inner strength.

  Priscilla couldn't help but smile, although her heart was filled with a warm melancholy. — Then I made the right choice.

  The remaining daggers were sent to the Valois family, who received the sample with enthusiasm and spent the morning selecting theirs. The tables in the main hall were covered with maroon velvet, on which the daggers rested, each radiating an aura of mystery and elegance.

  Maximo, however, was in a quandary. He had walked around the display several times, looking at each piece carefully, but none seemed to capture his attention. His brothers and mother had already made their choices, leaving Maximo as the only one who had not chosen his dagger.

  —Maximo, dear, these gentlemen don't have all day. — Mrs. Valois reminded him with an impatient smile as her fingers played with the hilt of her own choice, a classically designed dagger inlaid with amethysts.

  —I know, mother. Apologies. I will take my last turn and choose one. — replied Maximo, bowing his head slightly towards the vendors as a sign of respect.

  With renewed determination, he once again walked around the room, stopping at each table. However, when he reached the end, his gaze was drawn to a closed suitcase next to the vendor. Something about it caught his attention.

  —Excuse me, sir. Are those daggers not available? — he asked, pointing to the suitcase.

  The salesman looked up, somewhat surprised by the question.

  —Two of those daggers have already been selected by the princess, sir. The third one, with emerald details, has been with me for years. No one has shown any interest in it.—

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Max felt a spark of curiosity at the explanation. — Take it out and show it to me.

  The salesman obeyed, carefully opening the suitcase and taking out an obsidian dagger adorned with a vibrant emerald in the center. Max reached out to take it, and as soon as his fingers touched the handle, he felt a strange connection.

  The dagger seemed designed for him. The contrast between the deep black of the obsidian and the intense green of the emerald had a unique elegance that resonated with his own style and taste for gems. He had always had a predilection for green stones: emeralds, green sapphires and tourmalines.

  —It's perfect. — he murmured to himself, but the salesman heard him.

  —Will you take it, sir?

  Maximo nodded with a slight smile. — Without a doubt.

  As he examined the dagger more closely, another idea crossed his mind. — Do you have a similar version, but with sapphires?

  The salesman nodded quickly. — Of course, sir. I have the same one, but with blue sapphire details. I can bring it to you tomorrow.

  —Do it. I want it too.

  —Of course, sir. It will be a pleasure.

  Maximo looked again at the dagger in his hands and felt satisfied. He had finally found something that not only fulfilled the requirement of the ball, but also seemed to reflect a part of his personality. Even if he didn't openly admit it, he knew that dagger would be special.

  The day finally arrived, and the atmosphere at the dagger dance was charged with excitement and expectation. Priscilla had chosen a dress that, although simple in design, reflected the soft, delicate colors of her rose quartz dagger. The dress was made of pale pink chiffon and satin, with a fitted corset that accentuated her figure, while the skirt fell in light layers to the floor, giving an ethereal air. The black lace details on the edge of the corset and the short sleeves provided a contrast that echoed the dark shades of obsidian. To complete her outfit, she wore black necklaces and earrings that enhanced her look.

  For his part, Maximo wore his typical black suit, but this time modified to give him more mobility. The trousers had strategic cuts that facilitated movement, and the fitted vest was designed with hidden compartments for the daggers. Both daggers were in their respective places: the obsidian one with an emerald on his belt and the blue sapphire one in a compartment on his back.

  Selene, true to her extravagance, wore an imposing dress in intense black and orange tones, decorated with embroidery that simulated flames. Her dagger was short and pointed, with burnished steel details and orange garnets that glowed like fire. She wore elbow-length mesh gloves, and her bare shoulders conveyed an air of defiance.

  The ballroom quickly filled with guests parading in impressive attire, carrying their daggers like pieces of art. However, Selene paid little attention; all that mattered was Maximo' absence.

  Meanwhile, outside the hall, Priscilla gracefully descended from her carriage. She had barely set foot on the ground when another carriage arrived behind hers. It was the Valois carriage.

  Maximo was the first to get out, impeccable and elegant, making immediate eye contact with Priscilla. Beside him got out his brothers, Bastian and Oliver, followed by their mother. Seeing the queen waiting, the three young Valois bowed in synchronized reverence.

  —Maxim, Bastian, Oliver. Splendid and presentable as always. — said the queen with a smile of approval.

  —Good evening, your majesty. — the three replied in unison with courtesy.

  The queen turned to Maximo with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. —Maximo, would you do me the great favor of going in with Priscilla and keeping her company? I know she doesn't enjoy these events, but I also know that she enjoys your company more than mine.

  —Grandma! — protested Priscilla, blushing instantly. However, she could not deny that his words were, as always, absolutely true.

  Maximo, with a calm smile, nodded. — Of course I would accompany her tonight, your majesty. — He extended his arm towards Priscilla. — Shall we go, princess?

  Priscilla took his arm with some misgiving, but couldn't help feeling a comforting warmth as she did so. As they walked towards the entrance, she murmured:

  —You didn't have to accept. — A sigh of resignation escaped her lips.

  —But I wanted to. — Maximo replied with a slight laugh.

  From a distance, the queen watched the scene with Bastian and Oliver.

  —They're not hiding it at all. — said Bastian with a mischievous smile.

  —Not at all. — the queen repeated with amusement. — Will you escort me, young men?

  —Of course, your majesty! — Oliver replied excitedly.

  The three walked behind Maximo and Priscilla, laughing among themselves, while the dance of the daggers promised a night full of memorable moments.

  All eyes were on Priscilla and Maximo, who were still chatting quietly in a corner, away from the bustle of the dance. The conversation flowed naturally between them, discussing books, which were bad and which were good, interrupting themselves at times to humorously debate whether an author deserved praise or criticism.

  —You can't judge him so harshly. — Priscilla said with a laugh.

  —Of course I can… — Maximo was about to continue when he felt a touch on his shoulder. He turned his head and found Selene, who was looking at him with a mixture of anger and a forced smile.

  —Maxi, it's my family's dance, and you didn't come to greet me? — Selene said, trying to keep her tone light.

  —Selene, I didn't see you. Your dress looks like it's on fire. —Maximo looked at her with some surprise, referring to the intense colors of Selene's outfit.

  —Do you like it, Maxi? Look at my dagger, look, look. — She insisted like a little girl, quickly changing the subject back to herself.

  Priscilla watched in silence, but for some reason this time she wasn't bothered by Selene's attitude. Instead, she felt a slight regret, an uneasiness at seeing how Selene was claiming Maximo's attention. It was a feeling she couldn't explain.

  —It’s pretty, Selene. — Maximo replied quickly. — But I'm having a conversation.

  —Oh, my mother wants to talk to you, and… — Selene took his arm as she spoke, gradually leading him away from Priscilla. She was now unable to hear what Selene was saying, and was left alone again.

  The rest of the night passed in a similar way. Selene seemed determined to monopolize Maximo, leaving Priscilla isolated. Although she tried to enjoy the evening, she couldn't help feeling uncomfortable. Meanwhile, Selene remained furious, her jealousy feeding an idea in her mind that she would soon act on.

  Selene approached her group of friends, Grissalda and Marina, who shared her resentment towards Priscilla.

  —That little princess approached my Max again. — Selene said with a tone laden with contained anger.

  —Oh yeah? She always thinks she's the best. — Grissalda said, rolling her eyes.

  —Did you know that she rejected my brother last week? She's an egomaniac. — Marina added with contempt.

  The three of them laughed, and Selene spoke again with a crooked smile.

  —Let's play a little joke on her, something to get her to leave. I don't want her here in her little pink dress pretending to be so innocent.

  —We could teach her a lesson… — Grissalda murmured suggestively.

  The three of them looked at each other, as if they could read each other's thoughts, and dispersed around the place with clear intentions. Selene and Grissalda went up to the second floor, while Marina stayed close to Priscilla, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

  From the upper floor, Selene took a glass of wine and carefully threw it down, right above where Priscilla was, staining her dress.

  —Ah! What? — Priscilla jumped, looking up, but saw no one.

  —Oh, princess. — Marina approached with an expression of feigned concern.

  —Let me help you clean yourself up.

  —Thank you, Marina. How terrible this is… — Priscilla replied with a resigned sigh.

  Marina led her to one of the nearby libraries. When they arrived, she didn't turn on the lights until they were both in the center of the room. When the light finally illuminated the space, Selene, Grissalda, and Marina were surrounding her with malicious smiles.

  —What are you doing? — asked Priscilla, sensing that something was wrong.

  —Is this yours, princess? — Marina held up Priscilla's rose quartz dagger. —Obsidian… Always so peculiar.

  —Hand that over to me, Marina. — Priscilla reached out firmly.

  Selene approached, her expression full of anger. —What are you doing near Maximo? My Maximo. You don't deserve him. I know him better!

  —My grandmother asked him to accompany me, damn fool. You're obsessed with him. — Priscilla's voice was sharp.

  —What did you call her? — interrupted Grissalda, pushing Priscilla brusquely aside. — You're a hypocrite. You rejected my brother last week. Who do you think you are?

  —Your brother is crazy. He wants the privileges of a king when he's barely a duke. — Priscilla's response was direct, without hesitation.

  —You stupid bitch… — Grissalda took a step forward, but Selene stopped her.

  —Calm down, Grissalda. — Selene smiled coldly before addressing Priscilla. — You think you're the best, don't you?

  —I am, Selene. Much better than you. — Priscilla raised her chin, challenging her.

  Selene's rage reached its limit. With her dagger in hand, she left a thin cut on Priscilla's forearm. — And now?

  Priscilla backed away, holding her arm to stop the bleeding. —You're crazy…

  —I would do anything to claim what is mine. — Selene snapped.

  — You don’t own Maximo. You will always be a friend to him. Priscilla emphasized the last word with contempt.

  Selene gritted her teeth, pushing her hard one last time. Priscilla fell to the ground, and the dagger she was carrying in her thigh grazed Selene's leg, causing a small wound.

  —Consider it a promise. — whispered Selene, her voice full of venom. —Go near him again, and you'll be a dead little princess.

  —Selene… — murmured Grissalda nervously, pointing to the blood falling to the floor.

  Selene's eyes widened in horror at the sight of the wound. Marina and Grissalda screamed in panic and rushed out of the room. Selene, now frightened, looked around before fleeing too, leaving Priscilla alone.

  A few minutes later, some guards arrived and found Priscilla wounded but conscious. They helped her up and called for Maximo, who arrived quickly. Seeing her, his concern was evident.

  —What did they do to you? — he asked in a serious voice, kneeling down beside her.

  Priscilla tried to smile weakly. — Nothing I can't handle.

  Maximo shook his head as he carefully held Priscilla, his eyes full of determination.

  — It does not end here, Cil. —

  Priscilla blinked, surprised by the nickname.

  —Cil? What a good nickname… — she murmured with a slight smile, despite the pain.

  Both laughed softly, although the situation was still serious. There was no time for more, as people were already taking Priscilla out of the room to attend to her. The dance, which until recently had been full of life, ended abruptly.

  Selene and her friends, aware of what they had caused, dispersed among the crowd, their faces tense. They would have to wait until Wednesday, at school, to talk about what had happened. The tension was just beginning to build.

  How much do they hate Selene now? More or less? Hahahah.

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