The room vibrated with the energy of the music and the murmur of conversation. The synchronized steps of the couples on the dance floor echoed off the high ceilings, while the eyes of those present wandered between the twirling figures and the elegant details of the decoration. Priscilla, still holding Maximo's hand, felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted for an instant. Her heart was beating fast, but not with the usual uneasiness she felt at social events, but with something completely different: a mixture of emotion and nervousness that she couldn't quite decipher.

  — You look beautiful as always, Princess. — Maximo said in a voice that was softer than his usual demeanor.

  Priscilla looked up and smiled at him, trying to ignore the blush creeping up her cheeks.

  — I could say the same of you, Maximo. Thank you for asking me to dance.

  He looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, leading her with confident movements.

  — I couldn't let you go without a dance. I always find you in less… social places.

  The princess let out a small laugh, shrugging her shoulders in a carefree gesture.

  — These things don't suit me. — She turned elegantly before looking at him with narrowed eyes, as if analyzing his words. — Does it bother you that we meet in less crowded places?

  Maximo seemed to pause for a moment, searching for the right words. Finally, he replied, looking down as if doubting his own sincerity.

  — It would bother me if they thought I was courting you, Princess.

  Priscilla raised an eyebrow, amused by his answer. — Wouldn't it? — she replied in a playful tone, accompanying her words with a light laugh that seemed to lighten the atmosphere.

  But Maximo did not answer. Instead, he seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, his movements barely hesitating in the waltz. But before he could formulate an answer, the music suddenly stopped and a loud murmur swept through the room like a wave. Priscilla, like the others, turned her head towards the entrance and saw it.

  The great doors of the hall suddenly opened and Selene Akvis appeared. Her bright red dress, glistening under the chandeliers, caught everyone's attention. It was a bold choice, completely outside the dress code for the evening, but effective for that very reason. Selene didn't just want attention, she demanded it. With a plunging neckline and a tight cut that accentuated every curve, she walked with the confidence of someone who knew the world should revolve around her.

  The whispers multiplied quickly. Some leaned towards admiration, others towards reproach. But Selene didn't seem to notice or care. Her eyes were fixed on one person: Maximo.

  With determined steps and a calculated smile, she headed straight for him, not stopping to exchange greetings with other guests. The speed of her movements caused her to bump into Priscilla, who lost her balance for a moment. Maximo tried to say something, but Selene had already taken the seat next to him, completely ignoring the princess.

  Priscilla felt a lump in her throat. Her hands, which had trembled slightly with the excitement of the dance minutes before, were now cold and clenched. She couldn't bear to stand there and watch Selene rob her of this moment. Without saying a word, she took a step back, then another, and finally turned and quickly left the dance floor.

  As she crossed the room, she could feel the eyes of those present on her, some of them concerned, others curious. But she didn't stop until she reached the main corridor. There, she took a deep breath and placed her trembling hands on one of the walls for support.

  The echoes of laughter and music still echoed from the hall, but Priscilla could hear nothing but her own labored breathing.

  Priscilla stayed hidden behind a tangle of ferns and vines as she tried to calm her breathing. The coolness of the greenhouse, filled with the scent of flowers and plants, was her only comfort. She had escaped there to seek a moment of peace, but hearing Selene and Maximo's voices had shattered any possibility of rest.

  He stood motionless, almost holding his breath, his eyes following every movement of the newcomers. Selene was so close to Maximo that she seemed to be an extension of his shadow. Her shrill laughter echoed in the closed room, mingling with the light breeze that crept in through the windows.

  — Did you dance with Priscilla, Maxii? Selene asked, dragging out her words in an exaggerated manner, charging them with a tone that irritated even Priscilla, who was hiding.

  Maximo paused for a moment before answering, his tone firm.

  — I danced with the princess, Selene. Show some respect, you're not her friend.

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  Selene snorted and made a dramatic gesture as if the idea of being Priscilla's friend deeply offended her. — I wouldn't want to be her friend either, yuck! she exclaimed, feigning nausea. Then she turned to show her red dress, the fabric billowing around her like flames. — But tell me, do you like my dress?

  Maximo looked at her with an expression that mixed disbelief and curiosity.

  — Don't you think that for a tea of flowers, you look like the fire that would burn them? — he replied sincerely, his words laced with irony.

  Selene did not seem affected; on the contrary, she laughed softly, trying to soften the moment.

  — I am a red poppy, silly. — she said, winking at him in an attempt to be flirtatious. But her tone quickly changed, becoming colder. — Don't hang out with that little princess, she gives me the creeps.

  Priscilla clenched her fists from her hiding place, feeling the blood boil in her veins. Selene's words stung her pride, but she forced herself to remain silent.

  Maximo, however, did not let the comment go unchallenged. He moved slightly away from Selene, his tone becoming more determined. — Selene.

  — Maxii. — she replied, returning to the honeyed tone with which she had tried to manipulate him.

  Maximo crossed his arms and glared at her.

  — You are not my mother. Just because you don't like the princess doesn't mean I can't meet her.

  Selene snorted, clearly irritated by the answer.

  — I only speak my mind, Maximo. And my instincts are never wrong. This little princess doesn't belong here.

  — That is not for you to decide. — Maximo replied, breaking off the conversation in a tone that brooked no reply.

  Selene looked at him for a long moment, then shook her head as if it were not worth insisting.

  — Men. — she said contemptuously and turned to leave the greenhouse. — Come on! I'm bored here already.

  Maximo sighed deeply as he followed her, despite the obvious distance between them. Their footsteps echoed as they left the place, leaving Priscilla alone again.

  When silence returned, the princess slowly emerged from her hiding place, her heart beating fast. She wasn't sure which emotion was dominating her mind: indignation at Selene's words, curiosity at Maximo' attitude, or the latent sadness that had been with her since the beginning of the day.

  She made her way to the central fountain of the greenhouse and dipped her fingers into the cool water, letting the cold soothe the burning in her chest a little. Selene could try to hurt her pride all she wanted, she thought, but she wasn't going to let her malice make her feel less valuable.

  With carefully rehearsed calm, Priscilla approached her grandmother, who was sitting in a corner of the room, chatting animatedly with a group of older nobles. The princess waited patiently for them to finish one of their anecdotes before she spoke.

  — Grandmother, I think I'll return to the palace early. — she said calmly, though her voice barely hid the restlessness inside her.

  The queen looked up in surprise.

  — Are you leaving already, my dear? She asked with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

  Priscilla nodded, showing a serene smile that did not reach her eyes.

  — Yes, I'm a bit tired. Besides, I think it's best if I rest so that I'm ready for the council tomorrow.

  The queen studied her granddaughter for a moment, as if trying to read beyond her words, but finally nodded.

  — Very well, I hope you rest well, my dear. I will stay a little longer; this conversation is too entertaining to leave halfway through.

  — Of course, Grandmother. Enjoy your evening. — Priscilla replied with a slight bow before turning and leaving the room.

  The cool night air was an immediate relief as she passed through the main doors and descended the marble steps. The moon, high in the sky, bathed the gardens in a silvery glow and the lights of the poppy tea receded as Priscilla made her way to the waiting carriage. On arrival, however, she gestured to the coachman not to follow her.

  — I will walk for a while before returning to the palace. — she said in a gentle but firm tone.

  The coachman nodded respectfully and the princess made her way to a path that crossed the gardens. The lonely path offered her a respite, a space to gather her thoughts. Each step took her further away from the crowd, from the dances, from Selene… and from Maximo.

  Her shoes barely made a sound as they scraped the gravel of the path. The shadows of the tall trees swayed gently in the moonlight, and the scent of night-blooming flowers filled the air. Priscilla felt a mixture of relief and melancholy. There were too many emotions in her chest and none of them seemed to make sense.

  As she walked, the memory of the waltz with Maximo came back to her. How he had looked at her, how they had exchanged words that seemed to contain more than they said. And then Selene's abrupt interruption, as if fate had decided to keep them apart.

  Priscilla pressed her lips together, feeling a lump in her throat. She paused for a moment and looked up at the sky. The stars shone with an intensity that comforted her. “Why do I feel this way?” she asked herself. Was it anger, disappointment, jealousy? She wasn't even sure what she expected from Maximo, but Selene always managed to confuse her.

  Finally, she made her way back to the palace. When she arrived, the staff greeted her with a bow, and she went straight to her quarters without saying much. Once in her room, she sat in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection as if waiting for answers. Her fingers brushed against the necklace she was wearing, a gift from her mother when she was a child. Nostalgia and fatigue enveloped her.

  — Maybe after sleep all this will make more sense, she thought as she got up to change. But deep down she knew that even if her days continued to be filled with obligations and pleasures, that night at the poppy tea would leave a mark that she could not easily ignore. And somewhere between uncertainty and desire, Priscilla felt that something new was beginning to blossom.